#<- small hint (sure buddy)

[critterishere]

y’all are not ready for the NIGHTMARE I’m creating 🏝⛱🌺☀️

[hllywdwhre]

Revenge - Tommy Shelby

Summary: Reader takes personal offense over Sabini’s attack on Tommy

Warnings: arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, reader leaves a message written in blood, smut, creampie, light degrading, oral smut (f receiving), overstim, p in v, let me know if I missed any

Notes: I made this text post about protective reader and decided to write it lmfao. I want Tommy with a feral woman. Thank you to @slut4thebroken for proof reading, encouragement, and suggestions💖

MDNI, 18+ only

You weren’t quite sure how it had happened.

Scratch that.

You knew exactly how it had happened.

Your father and Tommy had worked out a deal when Sabini had first started trying to intimidate your father. A bride in exchange for protection and both of them walked away with extra allies when the inevitable war against Sabini broke out. You’d protested the marriage at first, screaming that you were more than just a political pawn for your father to sell when he needed help, but it went through anyway.

You had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Sure, Tommy was distant and seemed obsessed with work, but you knew you could’ve ended up in a much worse situation. He treated you with respect, never let you open a door on your own if he was around, always had a protective hand rested in the small of your back, and… the sex was great.

Perhaps the thing you appreciated the most, was that he didn’t expect you to become the housewife you had feared you would be reduced to. You were your father’s only child, meaning when he died, you would become leader of his gang. You were a gangster the same way Tommy was and he seemed to realize that and respect it. You helped out with the daily runnings of the Peaky Blinders and helped with the daily runnings of your father’s gang at the same time. They both recognized your potential and weren’t afraid to use it.

It wasn’t until you were sitting in a family meeting about a year after your marriage that you realized you had grown to feel more than just okay with the marriage.

Tommy was a closed off individual and through the entire year you had been married, you felt like you were just starting to finally get to know the real him. You never pried because he never pried in your life. If you had general questions, neither of you were afraid to ask them, but anything more was left up for the person to tell. You had more questions than answers still, specifically about the matching scars on his cheeks, but you didn’t dare ask. He hadn’t asked about the scar that ran from your right shoulder blade down to your spine, so you didn’t ask about his scars.

It was a common occurrence for Esme, Ada, and Polly to sit with you at one of the desks in the betting shop, whispering things to you during family meetings to fill in any gaps and answer any questions you may have had.

“Alfie has informed me that the Sicilians are being provided aid by Sabini, in the form of cars and housing,” Tommy started, causing Arthur to let out a loud groan of frustration.

Before you could get dragged into hearing any more of it, you turned your head to Esme who was sitting next to you.

“Sabini’s a prick, I know that, but what has he done to us?” You asked quietly, your eyes still flickering back-and-forth between Tommy and the rest of his family as they spoke about what to do next.

Esme began explaining exactly what Sabini had done. How he and five other men came after Tommy in the dark of night, how he’d ripped out a tooth, sliced his cheeks, and beat him to an inch of his life.

The rage that settled inside of you was your first hint that you had grown to genuinely care for Tommy as more than just a friend and (amazing) fuck buddy. Your jaw remained clenched and set for the rest of the meeting, but as soon as the meeting was called to end, you wiped the look from your face and forced a calm expression to take over.

You stood up and walked over to Tommy, forcing a small smile to your lips,

“I’m not really feeling all that well. You go with your brothers for a drink, I’m just going to head back home, okay?” You said, meeting his eyes so he wouldn’t have a reason to not believe you.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to look for any sign you were lying. You had been fine that morning and fine two hours prior when you sat down for the meeting, but he had no reason to believe you were lying so he simply nodded, placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to him, and kissed your forehead.

“I won’t be out long. Ask Frances for anything you need, okay, love?”

You nodded and the forced smile turned to a genuine one,

“I will, promise,” you told him before stepping away from him and waving goodbye to the rest of the family.

Yes. You had truly gotten lucky when it came to who you had been forced to marry.

The entire ride back to the Arrow House, you were silent and going over your plan in your head. You knew you’d have to earn Tommy’s trust back after this, but you didn’t particularly care. You were a force of nature on your best day. You were lethal when you were angry.

Once you arrived back, you immediately headed upstairs to yours and Tommy’s shared room. The marriage may have started off with the two of you in separate rooms, “I’m called the devil, but that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of monster. You can sleep in your own room until you’re comfortable sharing a bed,” but it didn’t take more than a couple weeks for you to eventually join him in bed.

Damn those blue eyes, full lips, and that jawline.

You grabbed a small bag and threw the first set of clothes you laid hands on into it, then, much more carefully, a dress. You grabbed everything else you needed and headed to Tommy’s office next.

I’ll be back soon. I’m sorry for lying, but I’ll be back.

You signed the note and left it in the center of his desk where you knew he would see it, held down by his ashtray.

As quickly as you had entered the house, you left it, getting right back into the car with the driver Tommy had employed for you. You told him the name of a hotel in London that you knew was just outside of anyone’s territory.

The drive seemed to pass by too quickly and soon you were saying goodbye to the driver and sending him home for the night. It was barely 7 in the evening when you got up to your room.

“If there is a God, please let me get through this. I’ll make it up to you… somehow,” you said quietly.

The beading on the dress swayed loudly around your body as you pulled the dress on. The pins in your hair seemed to be extra noticeable against your scalp. The straps on your shoes pressed into your skin more than usual. The blade held against your thigh and hidden by your dress seemed to refuse to warm up. Your left hand felt entirely too light with your ring missing.

You knew it was only your mind playing tricks on you. You’d worn this outfit before and it had always turned heads, which is exactly what you wanted.

You needed Sabini to notice you.

You greeted the cab driver politely as you stepped in and ignored the way his eyes seemed to follow you a bit too closely.

The doors of the club were held open for you and you made your way to the bar and took a seat, knowing you were just playing a waiting game now.

You could feel eyes on you. The wife of Thomas Shelby in Sabini’s club, hours away from Birmingham, far out of Peaky Blinders territory or her father’s territory. You stuck out like a sore thumb, even if you would have blended in during any other scenario.

It felt like an eternity passed before you finally saw the man that made your blood boil, but one glance at the clock above the bar told you it hadn’t even been an hour.

“You seem lost. I thought we had made it clear that your kind weren’t welcomed here,” Sabini said once he was in front of you.

A charming smile graced your lips and you looked up at him,

“My kind?” You questioned, playing innocent.

“Yes. Your kind. You’re the wife of Thomas Shelby and I don’t appreciate him ignoring the last warning I gave him and sending you-“

“I wasn’t sent here,” you stopped him, lifting your left hand and pushing a piece of hair that hadn’t fallen back behind your ear, “and I’m not really a Shelby or a Blinder, am I?”

His eyes were drawn to your hand and noticed the lack of a ring you wore and he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Is that so? I was under the impression the two of you were lovebirds.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your lips and looked away, trying to come off as shy. When you looked back up to him, you hoped the look on his face meant he was intrigued and believing you.

“Perhaps we could talk about it somewhere else… somewhere private?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes as you did so.

Gods help you. The smirk he gave you made your stomach twist and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face, but patience was something you’d adopted a lot of.

“Allow me to show you to my office then,” he said, offering you a hand which you forced yourself to take.

He guided you through the club and towards the back. Some amount of luck seemed to be on your side as his office was behind the stage and provided some cover for any noise you might make. Even more so as you noticed a window just large enough for you to be able to crawl out of.

Once the door was shut behind you, he sat down behind his desk and motioned for you to take a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side.

“Trouble in paradise, I take it,” Sabini said as he poured you both a drink.

“It was never paradise to begin with,” you replied, thanking him for the drink and taking a sip.

You had grown used to Tommy’s Irish whiskey and the bourbon he gave you wasn’t nearly as smooth going down.

“Was it not? From what I’ve heard, you two have quite the fairytale. Gang leader’s daughter married off to another gang leader, uniting two empires.”

“That’s not the way I see it,” you lied.

“And how do you see it?”

“A desperate father sold off his daughter to a desperate gang leader in an attempt for the both of them to gain more power and disregarded the woman’s wishes,” you replied simply, shrugging your shoulders.

“And so you’ve come to London for what?” Sabini questioned, wanting to hear you say it.

“Because I think we can help each other, Mr. Sabini,” you said, downing the rest of the bourbon and standing up.

His eyes followed your movements, his eyes trailing up your body before resting on your legs again.

“And how do you think we could help each other?” He asked.

You moved to stand in front of him, placing one leg over the side of his and straddled him, placing your arms around his neck.

“They trust me, Mr. Sabini. They don’t suspect me of anything,” you started. The shiver of disgust that rolled up your spine due to his hands trailing up the back of your thighs was one he apparently took as excitement as he gripped slightly at the backs of them, “I can tell you everything and, in return, I get out of my marriage once they’re all gone.”

“They don’t even realize the ticking time bomb they’ve got in their fingertips, do they?” He asked and a chuckle left your lips as a genuine smirk took over.

“They don’t…” you said, trailing your hands down his chest and then up your thigh, trying to make the move appear seductive. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt of your knife, “and neither do you, apparently.”

His eyes widened and he realized the trap he had walked into at the same time as you pressed the blade of the knife to his neck.

“I’d say that if you ever threaten my husband or our family again, you’ll regret it, but you won’t be,” you told him, unable to resist pausing for a touch of dramatic effect before adding on, “Never fuck with a Shelby.”

In the next second, you were quickly slicing the knife across his neck and flinching back as his blood coated you.

You knew your next move was morbid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It had been morbid for him and five other men to attack your husband when he was alone. It was morbid for him to rip out his tooth. It had been morbid for him to slice his cheeks. It was just as morbid for you to quickly and quietly clear off his desk, dip your fingers into his blood, and leave a bloodied message across his desk.

Revenge is a scorned Shelby

As soon as the message was written, you grabbed one of the coats from the coat rack and slipped it on, then crawled out of the window. The coat was long enough to cover all of the bloodied mess that was now your dress.

Sabini is dead.

That seemed to be the only thing you could think of as you were driven back to the Arrow House. It wasn’t the first time you had killed a man and you knew it wouldn’t be last.

But you hadn’t told anyone about this time. You hadn’t told anyone your plan, where you were going, or why you were doing it. You had also just started a war.

You weren’t surprised to see almost every light in the house still on when you arrived, and you made sure to slip the cab driver a little extra for the long drive.

You hadn’t risked staying in London longer than you needed to. You had gone into your hotel room, grabbed your bag, and promptly left, only taking the time to slip your wedding ring back on when you were in the cab.

When you stepped into the house, Tommy was in the hallway. All he saw as you stepped in the door was you, in another man’s coat, your wedding ring still on your finger, but your hair and makeup done much differently than it had been you had left.

You stayed silent as you stared at him with nervousness written on your face.

He put out his cigarette and quirked an eyebrow at you, a silent prompt for you to explain yourself.

Your silent explanation was to undo the tie on the coat and let it fall to the floor, revealing your blood stained dress.

“I need a fucking drink for this one,” Tommy grumbled, motioning for you to follow him. He guided you to his office and poured both of you a drink, handed you your glass, then sat down in his office chair. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Do you want the short version or the long version?” You asked, a smirk on your face as he looked up at where you still stood across the room.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but chuckle and shrug his shoulders,

“Humor me. Short version first,” he told you.

“About a year ago I got married, and tonight I started a war.”

Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and running a hand over his face, “Long version.”

“About a year ago, I got married. Over the past year my husband has been nothing but a respectful gentleman, making it nearly impossible for me not to fall for him when you combine it with his fucking blue eyes that could bring the devil to his knees,” you started, feeling the hint of a blush creep into your cheeks, which you knew he noticed by the way his eyes flicked to your cheeks and then back to your eyes, “then today we had a meeting with his family where he mentioned Sabini. When I asked, his sister-in-law told me about what Sabini had done to him. About how my husband had been beaten to an inch of his life and brutalized, leaving him permanently scarred, and I knew I had to make the bastard pay.

“So, I lied to my husband and said I didn’t feel well. I went home, packed a bag, left him a note saying I’d be back, and went to London. I rented a hotel room where I changed into a fancy dress and did my hair and makeup, then I wrapped a knife to my thigh and slid my wedding ring into my bag and went to The Eden Club. News of a Shelby woman spread quickly and Sabini showed up to question me within an hour. I lied to Sabini, told him that I didn’t want to be a Shelby and that I had never wanted to be one. He took me back to his office and I sat on his lap and made him think I was about to cheat on my husband when I slit his throat and made sure he knew it was because of what he’d done to my husband. I left a message on his desk, went back to the hotel, grabbed my bag, and then headed back to our house.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment as Tommy stared at you. His eyes were unreadable as he watched you.

“What did the message say?” He suddenly asked.

“Revenge is a scorned Shelby.”

“Nothing about the Peaky Blinders?” He asked curiously, tilting his head slightly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t Peaky business,” you answered confidently, watching him just as closely as he watched you as he stood from his chair and came to stand in front of you.

“Was it not?” He questioned, taking the untouched glass of whiskey from your hand and setting it on the desk before turning back to stare you down.

“No. It was Shelby business, but not Peaky business.”

“Explain.”

“He didn’t just harm a Peaky Blinder. He harmed a Shelby, my Shelby.” Your gaze was unwavering as you held eye contact with him. You wanted him to know you meant your words. He was yours, and the protective touches on your back when you were in public and the way he intimidated and glared at any man who tried approaching you was all the proof you needed to know that you were his.

“So I’m your Shelby?” He asked as he took a step towards you and continued to do so until you pressed against the office door.

“Yes.”

“And that means you’re mine?” He questioned, his hands now pressed against the wall on either side of your head.

You could feel that you were walking into some sort of trap, but you didn’t have a way out of it right now. All you could do was be honest.

“Yes.”

“Then you should know something about what it means to be mine.”

“What’s that?” You asked, your breathing getting shorter as he lowered his face so it was level with yours.

In a second his hands were on your waist and he had you picked up against the wall with legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

“My Shelby is to never come home wearing another man’s coat again,” he said, pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.

You don’t know what reaction you had expected from him, but being pinned to his office door and him kissing you hadn’t been one you had thought of. Your shock wore off after half a second and you returned the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.

“You’re not mad?” You asked against his lips.

“At you starting a war?” He questioned, leaning down and beginning to trail kisses hastily down your neck.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning your head back to give him more access.

“Livid,” he said with no hint of joking in his voice.

“This is quite the punishment,” you replied sarcastically. A moan fell from your lips as he nipped at your pulse point.

“Oh, I’m livid,” he said, looking up at you, “but also extremely turned on at the thought of my wife slicing a man’s throat over me and coming home still covered in his blood.”

You weren’t given a chance to respond before he was kissing you again. Your hands came down to his tie, pulling it loose before starting to work at the buttons of his waistcoat.

He didn’t bother setting you down, only turned the two of you around and walked you over to the couch in the office. He laid you down on it and then pulled the waistcoat off before leaning back down between your legs and kissing you again once. His lips started trailing down your neck again while your hands went to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Someone’s impatient tonight,” he teased as nipped at your skin again.

“You’re the one who pinned me to the door after I revealed I killed a man for you,” you replied in the same teasing tone as him. You undid the last button of his shirt and pushed the fabric off his shoulders, his undershirt following a second later.

He reached his hand to the side of your dress and unzipped it, pulling the fabric down your body while his hands grabbed hold of your underwear, stockings, and garters in the same move and pulled them off, leaving you completely naked underneath him.

He stared and looked over your body a moment longer before running his hands up your thighs and giving a gentle tap to your thigh,

“Up,” he said, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

You did as told though and sat up, leaving him enough room to lay on his back and pull you up to straddle him,

“Was killing a man not enough work?” You teased, not actually minding if he was going to have you ride him. At least it meant you wouldn’t be subjected to him teasing you when all you really wanted was for him to fuck you.

“That’s cute,” he said sarcastically, gripping your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his torso, “that’s not where you’re sitting tonight.”

The man was no stranger at using his mouth to make you see stars, but you’d never ridden his face before. You looked at him, the question obvious on your face.

“Seriously?” You asked even though you knew by his face that he was.

“Seriously. You were enough of a leader to go after Sabini, you’re enough of a leader to sit on my face. Up,” he repeated again while his grip on your thighs tried pulling you forward.

You did as you were told this time, shuffling forward until you were straddling his face. You weren’t given a choice of when to sit as his hands came to your hips and pulled you down, forcing your full weight onto his waiting mouth.

If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was Thomas’ ability to use his tongue and lips in more than just outsmarting his enemies.

His tongue trailed through your lips, his hands keeping your hips in place, while his tongue slowly explored you at first.

It had only taken a couple weeks for you to crack and make the first move on Tommy, joining him in bed one night when you’d decided you could trust him, and you’d been insatiable and addicted to him ever since, though he never complained. He’d spent the first couple times figuring out every move that made you tick and every name that made your cheeks flush and used them to his advantage at every turn.

His tongue was a gift with the way he knew exactly how to use it. He dragged it up and down between your folds, drinking in every bit of your arousal before focusing on your clit, alternating between quick flicks and long drags.

Tommy’s hands on your hips began guiding them, silently instructing you to take control. You didn’t hesitate in going along with what he wanted you to do and began rocking your hips. One of your hands trailed to his hair while your other went to lay on top of one his that gripped your hip. You hadn’t realized the volume of your moans until you felt the vibration of his moan against your clit.

Your hips jerked at the added stimulation and he hummed against you purposefully, his eyes never leaving you as your hips sped up, chasing your own high. Within moments you could feel it approaching and your grip on his hair and hand tightened, moans of his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.

“Please, fuck,” you cried, whimpers falling from your lips, “Tommy, Tommy…”

Your high crashed over you a moment later and you felt Tommy’s movements begin to slow down as you rode out your high, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath.

You went to move off of him, but his grip on your hips tightened at the same time that his tongue started speeding up again.

Your moans of pleasure turned to whimpers of over stimulation and you squirmed against him, but he didn’t let up. Your hips jerked as you tried moving away from him, but all it did was add to the stimulation.

You could practically feel him smirking underneath you as he continued on, watching as your eyes clenched shut and you relented yourself to letting him torture you so beautifully.

If it wasn’t for the way your body was on edge from not being given any type of break after your first orgasm, you might have felt slightly ashamed at the way he was able to bring you to your second orgasm so quickly.

And then your third.

Tears were freely falling from your face when he finally slowed his movements to a stop and helped you to lay down on your back.

He trailed soft and slow kisses along your thighs and stomach to help bring you back down to earth. When his lips reconnected with yours, you returned the kiss, letting your eyes fall shut at the surprisingly tender moment.

“Next time you want to start a war, at least let me know your plans,” he said, causing you to open your eyes and be met with a smirk dancing across his lips, “and don’t doubt my punishments.”

You could’ve smacked the smirk off his face if it wasn’t for the fact he had turned your entire body into mush.

“Think you can be a good girl and handle one more?” He asked.

Your cheeks flushed at the praise and his hands moved to his belt and pants, pulling them off after you nodded your confirmation.

Once the rest of his clothes had been removed, he gently lifted your legs and positioned himself between them. He was gentle as he pushed inside you, but the smirk on his face from the way your voice cracked when you moaned was obvious.

The stretch was familiar at this point, but it didn’t mean you didn’t need the moment he gave you to adjust. When you nodded your head, he started moving.

Tommy knew your body like he knew his own after your time together. His hips immediately changed position as he started thrusting, making sure to hit the spot inside you that added to the ways your legs shook underneath him.

He leaned down and placed his elbows on either side of your head, capturing your lips in a kiss right as a moan parted through them. One of his hands came back to cradle the back of your head and his fingers tangled into your hair to keep you close to him.

His other hand went to one of your legs and pulled it up so it rested in the crook of his elbow, causing him to hit even deeper inside you.

The action caused you to let out a high pitched moan and you wrapped your arms around him. Your next moan broke the passionate kiss the two of you had shared while your nails raked down his back.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, beginning to speed up the movements of his hips.

“Y-you,” you moaned out, your back arching underneath him.

“Say my name. Who do you belong to?” He repeated.

“Thomas Shelby,” you answered and dropped your head back.

“Good girl. You’re my fucking wife,” he moaned out. He sat up, using one hand to keep your leg up in the same position while his other hand went to your already over sensitive clit, “all mine. No other man gets to touch you, look at you, or even fucking think of you. It’s my cock that you’re whimpering over right now, and it’s the only cock you’ll ever be whimpering over again.”

“I’m yours, Tommy,” you repeated, your voice breaking as moan after moan fell from your lips.

“Then cum for me. Be a good Shelby wife and make a fucking mess on my cock just like how you made a mess of this war tonight,” he commanded.

You didn’t need any more encouragement from him as your fourth orgasm hit you, causing your back to arch again and your nails to run down his arms.

His moves start to become more sloppy and his pace sped up as he began to chase his own high, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock only driving him closer to the edge.

“Want to feel you Tommy, please,” you moaned underneath him, “please, cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swore out. His hips pushing against yours as his high hit him and his arms came down to either side of your head again while he shoved his face into your neck, completely claiming you as his own while his cum filled you.

His hips slowed as he rode out both of your highs and your arms came to wrap around him, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head you could reach.

Once the two of your breathing had slowed down to a normal pace, he moved to push himself up and your legs around his waist tightened along with your arms.

“Don’t. Not yet,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I’m going to crush you, love.” He placed soft kisses along your shoulders between his words as he tried warning you.

“I’m a grown woman. I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you replied and began running your nails softly along the shaved part of his head, knowing the motion worked on him every time.

“Stubborn,” he falsely chided, but relented and relaxed back into your hold.

“Little late to the party if you’ve just worked that out.” Your reply causing both of you to chuckle. “Remind me to start more wars if it means you fuck me like that every time.”

His hand came down and gently slapped your thigh in response while a burst of quiet giggles left your lips.

“Stubborn and a brat,” he teased, sitting up again and carefully sliding out of you.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me,” you responded with a smirk.

“I don’t think of it that way,” he said as he stood up and wrapped his arms under your waist and legs before pulling you up into his arms.

“How do you think of it?” You asked him as he carried you across the hall and into your shared room.

“I think I’m lucky enough to be married to a woman who killed for me over a years-old attack even though we’d never even said that we loved each other.” He set you down in the middle of the bed before crawling in next to you and pulling you into his chest.

A bright blush rose to your face as he pointed out that you had never even said you loved each other, even though you had admitted to him earlier that you had fallen for him. You didn’t know how to reply immediately and you turned in his arms to look up at him, his arms staying locked around your waist.

He didn’t seem to expect you to reply though, because he leaned in to you, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and sweet, as if he was trying to communicate what your actions had meant to him without having the words to say it.

“I fell for you, too,” he finally admitted, “I don’t know when it happened, but I know that I realized it tonight. The panic I felt to see your note and to see you come home covered in blood. The anger I felt over seeing you another man’s jacket. The way I felt when you revealed what you had done and why…” He trailed off, looking down at you and seeming to try and memorize every part of your face, “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.”

[zyafics]

STAY THE NIGHT | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing — Rafe x FWB!Female Reader

Summary — When Rafe sees you as just a fuck buddy, you embody the role and remind him what that truly means.

Word Count — 5.5K

Content — 18+, Smut, Jealousy (From Rafe), Dominance Play, Oral Receiving (F + M), Fingering, P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cockwarming, Praise Kink, Fluff At The End

Rafe Cameron doesn't get jealous.

You two aren't a couple. You are nothing more than casual fuck buddies that are conveniently located within proximity of one another when one of you need to blow off some steam or get off. The feeling is completely mutual.

However, you've been exclusive.

It's unspoken, of course. No one is willing to admit that they don't want the other to be sleeping with other people and you settled on that ambiguity.

You thought it could mean something more.

You thought wrong.

The other day, after fooling around, you laid in his bed, wearing nothing, and asked if you could stay the night. As part of your undefined relationship, you don't do sleepovers. Rafe doesn't do sleepovers. However, he was the one who was calling you after midnight. He was the one who wanted you to sneak out of your house, where your parents placed a curfew. If you go home now, you would be caught dead in the act and get into trouble. It would be easier to save yourself and stay over.

"No." Rafe declared, not letting the suggestion linger for more than a second. You lifted yourself from the bed by propping your elbows against his mattress, staring at the man who's searching for his throwaway clothes on the floor and redressed himself. "We don't do sleepovers. I don't want to be caught with a Pogue."

"Rafe." You said with a hint of annoyance. He saw you naked, but he was afraid of being seen with you in public? "It's fucking four in the morning. My parents are going to see me."

He scoffed. "Not my problem."

"So what? You don't care if I get in trouble?"

He shrugged, pulling his shirt over his chest. "You're just a fuck."

You said nothing. You just stared at him. He quickly gets dressed and finds your clothes around his floor, throwing them on the bed for you to take. With a huff, you pull yourself from the comforts and put them on.

"I'll call you." He said as you walked out of his bedroom, but you didn't answer him. All you did was flip him off and make your way out.

The next morning, you got in trouble with your parents regarding your absence. But, you said nothing, taking the lecture they gave you and headed to your room.

And you thought, if he sees me as a quick fuck, fine. I'll be just that.

The next Kook party, you were there. You always attended Kook parties, despite being a Pogue, simply because the alcohol is all free and it tasted better. No more cheap beer on The Boneyard, but you had to admit—the music was better.

Kooks can't play for shit.

This party happened to be on Tanneyhill, the mansion where Rafe lived. You haven't seen him since the last time you hooked up, and it's been the longest you've gone without seeing each other. Sure, he called you but you let it go to voicemails and all his texts were left on read. You know, without a doubt, Rafe would be looking for you and attempting to pull you to the nearest bathroom to fuck your brains out.

But you didn't care.

(Maybe just a little).

After dancing for a while, grinding against random strangers and making conversations with some friends of yours, you settled into a seat next to a Kook. He introduced himself as Ethan, and you chat with him as you drink from your cup, making small talk about what you're doing this summer.

He seemed interested enough. His eyes shamelessly glance down at your top, which practically shows off your tits, and floats back to your lips a couple of times. You knew if you wanted to, he would've follow you to a bedroom and fuck you.

But you didn't.

You laughed at his jokes. You told some of your own.

All while having an nagging feeling of a pair of eyes on the back of your head.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. You know exactly who.

And Rafe Cameron is fuming.

He noticed you when you first walked in, in a top that shows off too much and a skirt that covers practically nothing. You walked into Tanneyhill as if you owned the place, despite being a Pogue, and that's one of the things that irritates him about you.

But it also made him attracted to you.

Your confidence. Your demeanor. You never backed down when Rafe tries to put you in your place and you never let him gain control without a fight. He likes that you make him work for it; there's a thrill in the chase. Because he knows, at the end of the day, it's his bed that you ended up in. It's his cock that you're sucking.

But, at this moment, he isn't so sure. Instead of being in his arms, talking to him, you were talking to some random fucking guy who attended Kook Academy and is making you laugh.

You didn't even bother to tell him you were coming.

Rafe thought he could hold it in until he got you alone.

But that was before the guy put his hand on your upper thigh and you let him.

It takes mere seconds for Rafe to cross the yard, and when he comes behind you, it surprises you at how silent he was. "Get your hands off my fucking girl," he snapped at Ethan and before Ethan got the chance to back off, Rafe grabs your arm and pulls you off the chair, taking you inside of Tanneyhill.

You let him drag you for a few moments. The booze in your system is making your reaction sluggish, but when the realization dawns on you, you finally pull away when you reach in front of his bedroom, hidden in a dark hallway.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He scoffs at your words. "What am I doing?" He repeats. You nod. He jabs an accusing finger in your direction. "What the fuck are you doing?"

You lift the cup to your lips. "I'm drinking."

His eyes are livid. "With that guy?" He gestures outside where Ethan is, jealousy pouring from his words and he sounds like he's using every inch of restraint he has to hold everything together. You shouldn't be enjoying it so much, but you are. When you don't answer him, feigning a bored expression, Rafe gets more frustrated. He doesn't like that you aren't reacting. He doesn't like it at all. "What's your fucking problem?"

You lift your shoulders in a casual shrug, pressing the red solo cup against your lips and says, "thought I was just another fuck."

He knows you were throwing his words back at him. He knows that this is some fucking test that you're doing to drive him bad. He also knows it's working, so much so that he knocks the cup out of your hands, causing the content to spill all over his marble floor. "Fuck you."

You scoff, unfazed by his aggression. "You already did." You say, and while Rafe is silently raging underneath, you decide to take it a step further. Closing in the distance until you're right in front of his face, you smirk, "and you fucking loved it."

Rafe is breathing hard, his blue eyes searching your face, his chest raising and falling in rapid beats as frustration rolls off of him, all while you tip your head to the side, raising your brow, challenging him to respond.

He does.

By slamming his lips against yours.

One of his hands catches the back of your neck as he presses a bruising and punishing kiss against your lips, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. Instinctively, you throw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"You're mine." He breathes against your lips when you break apart, trailing kisses down the column of your neck as you tip your head back to give him more access, feeling his mouth working against your skin. "And no fucking asshole from the Academy is going to take you away from me."

Wanting to tease him further, you say. "What if I leave?"

He answers you by sucking on a sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to arch into him and let out an involuntary moan as his free hand descends down to your short skirt and roughly palms your ass. Rafe chuckles against your skin, satisfied by your body's reaction to him. "Then no one is going to make you feel like I do."

His hands move to pull down your top, causing your tits to spill out of the fabric. The cold air pricks at your exposed skin and Rafe takes a beat of a second to admire you before lifting his gaze to meet you in an easy, cocky grin.

"So ready for me," he teases, moving his hand up to play with your hardened nipples between his fingers. You let out a small sigh. "God, you're fucking gorgeous."

"Shut up," you say, not liking how his words are making your cheeks flush with heat and a flutter of butterflies to swarm your stomach. This is just a fuck, you remind yourself. He lifts his blue eyes to meet you for a brief second before descending his mouth down to cover one of your nipples.

You always like playing with yourself there. As his tongue swirls around the sensitive tip, his teeth lightly graze against the bud, causing your moan to echo across the hallway and his hand immediately slaps over your mouth, silencing them.

Rafe's eyes lock with yours. "You don't want anyone to hear what a needy girl you are, do you?"

You clench your jaw underneath his hand, at his dominance, but when you don't answer fast enough, he asks again. "Do you?"

You shake your head and he pulls himself off of you, the cold invades the absence of his heat. But, Rafe doesn't leave you for long. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his bedroom. The moment the door slams close, his lips return on yours and his hands explore over your exposed body.

Your core clenches as Rafe slams you against the back of the door, kissing you hungrily as he lowers his hand to the cutoff of your skirt and pushes the flimsy material up to your hips before cupping your pussy.

"God, you're dripping," he says with a small laugh, looking up to you. "Are you this wet for me, baby?"

You are. Rafe Cameron has a way to make your entire body responsive to him, his touch, his kisses, his everything. But, you don't want to let him know that. You don't know how much you want it, how much you need it.

Instead of answering him, you say with a roughness to your voice, "if you don't fuck me, Cameron, I'll find someone else who will."

Humor leaves his face and his expression hardens. He cups your cunt hard, causing you to involuntary jolt forward into his hand and a small whimper to escape you. "This is mine. No other fucking man is going to touch this but me."

"Big words for someone who hasn't made me come."

His eyes darken and, with your taunting and teasing getting to him, he finally pushes your panties to the side and inserts a rough finger inside of your pussy, causing you to wince at the abrupt motion. "Can you handle it?"

You nod with closed eyes, feeling as he adds a second finger, thrusting in a steady but rough pace, his other hand fondling with your tits.

You lean back against the door with heavy breaths, moaning and clenching as your orgasm builds from his rhythm. Rafe knows your body, he knows you're about to come, and as your moans get more erratic and you grind harder into his hand, he quickens his thrusts. Leaning into you, he says to your ear, "let it out, baby."

You do.

Your walls clench around his fingers tightly as you ride on your high, so much so that you hear his muttered fuck under his breath. When you're slowly coming down from your climax, Rafe removes his hand. The loss of his touch causes you to frown but before you get the chance to open your eyes and complain, he pushes the wet digits against the entrance of your lips. "Suck."

You want to argue back, about him telling you what to do, but you can't seem to help but listen. Your eyes open and find his face, watching you as you suck his fingers clean of your arousal. "Good girl."

When he withdraws his fingers, clarity dawns on you. He's wearing too much while you're practically exposed. You didn't like how uneven the playing field is, and with a gesture to his shirt and pants, you demand. "Take it off."

His smirk is smug. "Eager, aren't we?"

"If I have to be naked, so do you."

"You aren't naked." He gestures back to you and you look down at yourself. While your tits are showing and your panties are soak, he's right, you technically aren't naked. Not afraid of backing down from a challenge, you easily pull your tiny top over your shoulders and push your skirt and panties down to your ankles.

Stepping out of them, you look back to see Rafe admiring your naked body. You can see the outline of his erection straining against his pants, and for a moment, a self-consciousness creeps up on you and you blush. With a hard swallow, you point to him. "Your turn."

The corner of his lips quirks up at how demanding you are and he pulls his shirt over his body, revealing the defined and taunt muscles of his chest underneath. Your mouth waters. You watch as he goes for his belt—knowing you’re watching—that he teases it out slowly. He messes with the buckle, taking his sweet time, that you grow impatient. 

"Goddammit," you mutter under your breath, approaching him and pushing his hands out of the way, sinking to your knees as you unbuckle the belt with ease—practices from all the other times. When you pull it out of his pants, you stop, looking up to Rafe.

"Go on, princess." He gestures, a cocky grin at the sight of you on your knees for him. "Finish what you started."

You hate how much power he has over you this time, how he is telling you what to do, but because of how needy you are, how much you want him between your legs and his cock to be in you, you listen. You unzip and pull down his pants, revealing an impressed bulge underneath his briefs. With one easy tug, you freed his cock and it stood in front of you, hard and leaking with pre-cum.

On your knees, you look up to see Rafe watching you, waiting to see what you do. His eyes are hungry and his arousal is obvious. Tentatively, you wrap your hand around the thick cock, your fingers barely connecting together because of his girth.

And slowly, you rub up and down his shaft.

A hiss leaves the back of Rafe's throat and satisfaction pools in your core at the realization that you are making him feel this way, that you have this much control. "Faster." He commands, his voice thick with desire.

Instead of listening to his orders, you open your mouth and take his cock in your mouth, swallowing the salty taste as you swirl your tongue at his head. Added with the motion of your hand playing with his balls, and rubbing him up and down, Rafe can’t help but rock his hips against your face. 

“Fuck,” he swears, his hand finds your hair and pulls your closer to him, as your grip around him gets firmer and you hollow your cheeks, creating a stronger suction. Rafe groans under your touch, tugging the root of your strands, wanting you to do anything and everything to build him closer to his climax. “Fuck, baby, I’m close.” 

With that pride of information, you slow down, your fingers loosen their pace and you pop the cock out of your mouth. Rafe feels the instant loss of touch and he looks down at you, his expression hard and angry.

"What the fuck?"

"Say please."

He says your name in a command, but you don't budge.

Rafe's blue eyes are hard. He knows you do this. He knows you like to mess with him, take back control whenever you find yourself in a small position of power and remind him of his place. Irritation builds in his chest, this time worse than the others, but so does his delayed climax. He needs it more.

With a reluctant sigh, he says, "please."

You return your motion, moving in slow, torturous strokes as your hand moves up and down his slick length, creating enough pleasure for him to feel but not enough friction to ease into his climax. Your mouth has yet to return on his cock and without the added assistance, his jaw tense and his frustration and horniness builds. 

In a desperate plea, Rafe begs, "baby, please."

His voice didn't sound like his own and his words are so rough, so willing, that you can't help but alleviate him from his misery. You reconnect your lips on his tip and begin to rub his faster, firmer, sucking him harder. With the edge of delay, Rafe comes fast with a guttural groan, spilling in your mouth as you lap over the taste, swallowing all of it.

Rafe lowers himself and guides you back to your feet, pulling you towards the bed and pushing you flat against the mattress, laying on your back.

He lowers himself off the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees as he steps in front of your exposed pussy, and looks up to see the self-satisfied smirk on your face at the little stunt you pulled back there. In a low voice, he says, "you're going to regret that."

A finger drags up your slit, in a slow motion, gathering your wetness on the digit but producing enough pressure that it makes you whine. You try to grind yourself against his hand but he lays his palm on the flat of your stomach, holding you in place. 

When his eyes connect with your needy gaze, he says, “my turn.” 

Dipping his head between your legs, he kisses your inner thighs in slow, agonizing touches. It produces an aching feel to your core as he gives careful attention to both of your thighs, slowly creeping up to your throbbing cunt, but not quite giving you a release. 

Rafe lingers on a particular sensitive spot near your pussy, sucking and kissing the placement until you're writhing in pleasure and frustration, desperate to feel his tongue in you.

"Rafe," you say with a throaty beg and he grins against your skin.

"I said you're going to regret it."

"Yeah, and if you take any longer, I'm going to go downstairs to find Ethan."

Rafe hates it when you mention other men, or even think of other men, especially when he’s fucking you, but it does the trick as he moves between you and his fingers spread your folds. “You are this wet for me, baby, not Ethan,” he reminds you, before lowering himself to your pussy, flattening his tongue against your center before moving up and down in slow strokes. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he finds your sensitive clit and sucks on the nub, the sound of wetness fills the bedroom as the low volume of the music thumps from downstairs. He lets one finger enter your cunt, beginning at a slow pace. “Rafe, ohmygod.”

He moves faster, rougher, lapping out your taste as if he was dying of thirst. With his finger quickening and his tongue working a miracle on you, another orgasm builds. 

“I’m close,” you whisper and he nods. He moves with precision and god, Rafe Cameron is good at eating pussy. When his tongue enters into you and the pad of his thumb rubs circular motions around your clit, you can’t help but arch into his pleasure and come on his face. 

You fall against the mattress with a heavy breath, but Rafe doesn’t stop. He continues to suck and lap and rub, causing you to wrap your thighs tightly around his head. You’re already so exhausted, so sensitive, coming down from your high, but that does nothing to satiate the man between your legs—fingers and tongue buried inside of you, still hungry. 

Your thighs violently shake and your fingers rack through his hair, pulling, “ohmygod, ohmygod,” you moan as he works another orgasm from you, your stomach tightening and the pressure being so unbearable you feel as if you’re going to cave and explode. 

“Come for me, baby, I want another one.” He mumbles against your cunt, the low hum of his voice vibrates through your body in a pleasurable sensation. With a rougher pace and a harder suction around your clit, you come for a second time in a row. 

You’re an absolute wreck when he pulls away and, assessing the damage he caused, Rafe chuckles at the sight before him. You splay out on the mattress, breathing heavily with low lids and the prettiest pussy. He lowers himself, placing both hands on either side of your head to carry his weight, he plants a soft kiss on your lips. 

His eyes set on you, a gentle gaze, and whispers. “Can you take another, baby?” 

Though you are weak from all the orgasms you endured, you still nod, looping your arms around his neck as he descends closer to you, planting kisses against your lips, the corner of your mouth, to the edge of your jawline. You can feel his erection grazing at your entrance, waiting to enter, and the thought itself ignites another round of passion and need within you. 

Rafe pulls back just enough to line his cock against your wet folds. Before he enters, he looks up to you, waiting for a confirmation sign. When you nod, he slowly pushes the length into your aching core and you jerk forward. 

He goes in slow at first, allowing your walls to adjust to his size because, no matter how many times he’s been inside of you, it still takes a moment for your pussy to register that this is him. That this is his pussy. A hiss escapes the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

You, with what little strength you have left, push yourself up as he rocks against your hips, beginning his thrusts. You get closer to him, grabbing his shoulders, while he takes the opportunity to play with your tits. 

This new position allows him to enter deeper inside of you, hitting a new angle, causing you to let out a cry from the explosion of pleasure. In addition to the remnants of the orgasms you had a few moments prior, as Rafe pounds into your very sensitive core, you begin to feel as if you’re seeing stars. 

Rafe leans down, closer to your ear as he asks, "who's fucking you?"

You feel your stomach knot and tighten, knowing he’s getting you close. But, you also can feel his cock twitching inside your walls, alerting you that he’s also getting close. With this dynamic power, you turn your head to face Rafe, connecting your heavy-lid eyes with his. 

“Ethan.” 

Rafe stills. His eyes darken at your words, watching the way your lips curl with an innocent look and he decided he hates it. He hates this little power play you're doing to him, he hates how it's working. He knows that you two are nothing more than fuck buddies, but without the reassurance that you are his—fully, devotedly his—he doesn't know if you haven't fucked another guy before. If you haven't had Ethan's name on your lips.

His hand lowers between the two of you, lightly grazing against your sensitive clit. You jolt into his touch. "Did you fuck him?"

His voice is low, dangerously low, as you watch how serious he turned with the tease of another man's name. You tilt your head to the side, challenging him. "And if I did?"

He pinches your clit and your hips arch forward, but he uses his other hand to grab it still. Your core throbbing while he remains inside of you and does nothing. You realize, in this moment, that you might've gone too far. You feel full and have everything in your possession to make you reach your highest peak but you chose to delay it with a joke that wasn't even that funny.

Especially not now.

Rafe slowly rubs your clit with his fingers, painfully light, teasing and punishing you all in one. You gasp into his touch, but he doesn't let you move. His grip remains firm on your hips, holding you in place as you ache around his cock, as he can feel your walls clench around him, begging to be fucked.

But he needs to hear you say it.

"Rafe," you choke, and his eyes connect with yours. Your eyes are teary, your breathing is erratic, and you are trying desperately to produce some friction between your legs and give you some semblance of pleasure. "Rafe, move."

"No, princess," he says with a deadly calm, shaking his head. "You want to play mind games with me all night, fine. But tonight, I'm going to fucking hear you say my name." He repeats himself with aggression, his fingers skims across your sensitive nub. "Who. Is. Fucking. You?"

You grip his shoulders, your eyes meeting his, and your core aches painfully. You try to grind yourself against him, trying to produce some friction of your own, but he uses both hands to grab your hips, stilling you in place with a deadly grip you are sure is going to leave a mark.

He shakes his head, firm on getting the answer out of you.

With teary eyes, you beg. "Please, Rafe. Please."

He grins with that self-satisfying charm. He loves it when you finally break your dominance. He loves it more when he can break you.

His thrust begins at a slow rate, still on the edge of punishment, but at least you can feel some friction producing between your legs. You look down at his cock entering and leaving your cunt, the image gratifying, but Rafe roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look back up.

"Look at me." He commands, his voice shallow as the slow thrust is killing him, but he needed to teach you a lesson. "I want you to remember this when you're looking at anyone else. Talking to any other fucking guy. Remember how I make you feel."

You nod frantically. Desperate at this point to say anything to get Rafe to move faster, harder, providing you with your climax. He sees it in your eyes, how he finally got you, that it makes him smile. 

"God, look at you," he chuckles. "You want me to fuck you so bad."

"Yes," you beg, "yes, please. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" He asks again, the proposition is too nice to tease out.

You nod, blinking through the tears. "Anything."

He grins at this exchange of power, when he holds all of it, that he finally relents and quickens his pace. You grip harder on his shoulders as Rafe thrusts into you, rocking his hips against yours.

You claw and moan against his skin, using it as an anchor for all the pain and pleasure ripping through you, and he takes it as a mark of honor. When he lowers one hand between the two of you, using the pad of his thumb to rub small circles around your clit, you see stars float in your vision. 

"I'm coming," you pant against his skin. "God, please, I'm coming."

Rafe's hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, and nods. "Come for me, baby."

When you feel your orgasm hit its all-time high, you slump in exhaustion against his shoulders, while he continues to move in and out of you. It takes a few seconds later before Rafe comes, feeling his hot cum leaking out of you.

He doesn’t remove his cock from your pussy and honestly, you don’t want him to. You want to stay like this for a moment, to catch your breath and come to the dawning realization that this is the best sex of your life. You didn’t want it to end. 

Rafe lays his chin on your small shoulder, pushing your wet hair to the side as he recovers. 

“Be my girl.” He whispers, so quiet, that you thought you imagined it. You weakly pull back, connecting your widened eyes with his. 

"What?"

"Be my girl," he repeats once more, his blue eyes vulnerable and tracing your features to see if there's any hint of rejection on the bay. "I can't fucking stand you with other guys. I don't even want you to say their names. I want you. All of you."

You hesitate. "Rafe..."

"You said you'll do anything." He reminds you.

"You said you don't want to be seen with a Pogue."

He growls. "Fuck what I said," he snaps with a shake of his head, raising his hand to wipe the leftover tears from your face. "I want you. I don’t care about anything else. Just say yes."

You look at him and soften your gaze. You have wanted this, you admit, you wanted him to confess to you that he wants you as much as you want him. But, for a moment, in this brief second, you’re afraid that if you agree you would submit to everything you’ve fought against. The control you tried so hard to retain. 

He sees it. He knows you’re having an internal battle. Using his hand, he cups the side of your face, the heat and comfort of his palm makes you instinctively lean into him. “Please.” He begs softly, giving you one last shred of power. 

With a small chuckle of your own, you finally nod. "Okay."

He grins, and without hesitation, presses another kiss against your lips. This time, it lacks the power and control you two have been fighting for all night but rather is sweet, sensitive and patient. He pushes you back against the mattress, using his arms to hold up his weight. 

When he pulls apart, both of you are out of breath and breathing heavily. He offers you a genuine smile, at how proud he is that you’re his, and uses the pad of his thumb to rub across your flushed cheeks. “God, you’re gorgeous.” 

You blush, waiting to pull away from his touch but Rafe knows you. He grabs a hold of your face, holding you in place so you can’t tear your gaze from him. “I’m serious. Since you’re my girlfriend now, you have to get used to that or else people are going to assume I don’t compliment you enough.” 

You scoff. “You don’t. The only times you say nice things to me is when you’re in me.” 

“Yeah?” He challenges, cocking one of his brows. You nod. “That’s going to change. Prepare for me to shower you with compliments every time I see you,” he says, as he lowers himself and plants a soft kiss on your shoulder blade. “Especially when I’m in you.” 

You roll your eyes, pushing him off as your eyes find the clock in the back of the wall. You didn’t realize how late it was. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe turns to you, his brows knit together in confusion. 

"What?"

"It's almost one am. I promised my parents I was going to go home at eleven."

He glances at the clock, before returning his gaze back to you. "Stay the night."

"What?"

"You said it would save you trouble, right?" You hesitantly nod. "Just stay the night."

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You can’t believe how much he’s willing to give in now that you’re finally his. Maybe you should’ve made him jealous a long time ago. Your first instinct is to tease him about it, but you decide that you had enough power play. The both of you deserve some rest and plus, sleeping with Rafe would be a comforting feel after the sex you just had. 

When he comes to approach you, settling between your legs as he waits for an answer, you run your hands through his messy blond locks. “Okay.” 

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[onsomenewsht]

I feel like this is the beginning, though I've loved you for a million years

About when your daughter takes a vow of silence and Alexia takes it better than you

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1.7k

》 babies cry with an accent [fun fact]: studies suggest that newborns cry with a certain "prosody", to imitate the prevailing intonation patterns of the language they heard while still in the womb

“Diana, go wash your hands, dinner is ready”

The little girl doesn’t dignify you with a verbal answer, her small chin set in a familiar, stubborn line – a clear declaration of intent.

The vow of silence stretches into its third day, the longest one so far in her short life.

The quiet atmosphere of the apartment, filled with the child-approved playlist you put on, is interrupted by the unexpected sound of the bell.

You barely see your daughter sprinting toward the bathroom as you go check the door, wondering who could be at this time of day, unannounced.

“Alexia?”, you can’t hide the surprise in your voice.

The footballer, your fuck buddy for the past couple of months, surely the last person you expected to find behind the door.

Her bright smile dims a little at your slightly panicked reaction, effectively blocking her view of your home’s entrance. The blonde’s gaze drops to the vibrant bouquet she’s tightly holding in her hand.

“Hi”

“What are you doing here?”

“I– ehm, I wanted to surprise you”, she admits shyly, her voice strained to reveal the underlying tension of the situation, “And I can see you’re surprised”

“Sorry, I just–”

The attempt to explain is cut short by a running kid crushing the back of your legs with all the force a four-year-old can manage.

A lot, apparently.

Your hand reaches for the head of your daughter, affectionately ruffling her dark hair as she hides her face behind you when she notices the stranger at the door.

The warmth of her small body pressing against you is grounding, familiar weight bringing you back to the present as the scent of a fruit-flavoured soap fills your senses and anchors you in the moment.

When you finally meet Alexia’s eyes again, she’s looking at you like she’s seeing you for the first time.

In a way, it’s true.

Meeting her in a club a couple of months ago was fun and thrilling, one of the best nights you had in a long time.

Not that you will tell your best friend that, since she had to drag you out to take advantage of Diana sleeping at your mom’s house.

One night with Alexia turns into two, and from there, you lose count pretty easily.

It starts without much thinking, for both of you, as a way to de-stress and drop the responsibilities and the weight you felt on your shoulders. A shared escape from the demands of two very different lives.

It starts as a fun time, but it turns a bit more serious as coffee dates and movie marathons added up to the late-night meetings.

Most of the time, you spend the night at her place, having a couple of days by yourself when Diana is with her father and you don’t have to worry about coming up with a new bedtime story.

Sometimes Alexia drops you off right outside of your apartment’s building, wondering, with a hint of doubt and maybe even disappointment, why you never invited her over.

The answer, small and still silent, peeks out from behind your legs with curious eyes.

“Ale–”

“Sorry, this was a bad idea”, she mutters when she notices Diana tugging at your shirt to get your attention.

“Diana, thank Alexia for the flowers”, you prompt hopefully.

The footballer takes a couple of steps away, stopping suddenly and turning around to hand you the bouquet.

The little girl snatches the flowers before you can even react, burying her nose in the blooms dramatically. A scene that makes both you and Alexia genuinely smile.

The silence vow still unbroken, but it gives you time to come up with a decision.

You shake your head, amused, as your daughter goes for a timid and quick hug, her dark curls brushing against the Catalan’s legs as she drops her short arms around them.

She’s retreating behind you just as fast.

Bending down with a smile, you make sure the kid understands what you ask is completely up to her, “Is it okay if Alexia joins us for dinner?”

Your daughter fixes her eyes on the blonde woman for what feels like the longest 10 seconds of your life, studying her with an intensity that makes you slightly nervous.

Under the pointed gaze, the footballer never looked this shy and unsure. As if your daughter can uncover her biggest secrets and deepest fears.

Diana simply nods, her vibrant eyes fixed on Alexia with a hit of curiosity.

“You have her blessing, I guess that’s all we can get from her since she’s on silent strike”

“What?”, the blonde asks, her head snapping up so quickly she almost gets whiplash.

You don’t miss the smile blooming on her face as she meets your eyes.

“Join us for dinner, I made lasagna”

At the reminder, Diana effectively drags you inside the house, one hand firmly holding your shirt and eagerly gesturing for your guest to come in while still clutching the flowers in the other.

You breathe out in relief when you hear the door closing and the blonde woman following you. The little girl is so impatient to eat that she has added a seat on the table even before you two enter the kitchen.

The dinner is filled with your daughter’s stories, told through rushed waves and expressive glances, even without her uttering a single word. Her small fingers move faster and messily, making you and Alexia try to guess what she’s saying, glaring at you both when you fail to understand her seemingly clear gestures.

The kid is usually really talkative, never backing down from an opportunity to fill your ears with her adventures and ideas. The silent vow had been a welcoming change for the first couple of hours, but it turned alarming after a full day.

At this point you’re just going with the flow.

You’re truly amused by Alexia, who quickly overcomes her initial shock and manages to become the girl’s favorite person in a confusing exchange of hand gestures.

She’s going with the flow too.

“It’s obvious, the green lime dog ate the cookies”

“I don’t know Ale, I think she did”

“Trust me, this definitely means the green lime dog stole the cookies”

They even high five right on your face, teaming up way too soon, as you pretend to fall for their lies.

You can’t hold back a laugh as you watch the usually composed Alexia, a two-time Ballon d’Or winner, throw her hands up in the air, exaggerating a dramatic gasp just as Diana had done, perfectly capturing the little girl’s theatrical story.

A compelling explanation to assure you she hadn't been the one to eat the chocolate treats from the jar she knows she’s not supposed to reach on her own.

After dinner, Diana convinces the captain to join her in the living room’s floor to play with her impressive collection of lion-shaped toys – without even that much of a fight from the older woman. Eager eyes constantly seeking Alexia’s, you sit with them a bit aside, to contribute to their playtime without really interfering.

You clearly notice the kid’s struggle to not speak, a visible effort in her tight lips and the way she holds her tongue, resorting to bursts of laughter and exaggerated lion roars.

She’s showcasing an impressive autocontrol, you have to admit.

“Let me just get her in bed and we can talk”

The Catalan simply nods, a soft smile on her lips as you guide a sleepy Diana toward the bathroom, her head already starting to droop on your shoulder. Your daughter insists on saying goodbye to her new friend, and you don’t fight back, watching as they share a warm hug and, you’re quite sure, some secret whispered words.

When you meet Alexia back in the living room, the kid tucked in without too much of a trouble, you notice she has meticulously put away the toys in the box they came from.

“She’s Diana, she’s four and she’s my daughter”, you state as you drop next to her on the couch.

“I could tell, she’s like a mini version of you”

She doesn’t look angry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before”, the words feel wrong, inadequate to really explain your decision.

She looks hurt, and that’s worse.

“It’s okay, I can understand you wanted to protect her”, she reaches for your hand, “It’s not like I can see you tell me about her as we are having casual sex”

“It hasn’t been casual for a while, for me”, you admit, your gaze softening.

“I came here to ask you out on a proper date”

Well, the night had taken an unexpected turn for both of you.

“She’s my priority, Alexia”, you begin, your voice soft but firm, squeezing her hand when her gaze drops, a shadow of uncertainty crossing your face.

“Of course, I–”

“She’s my priority, but I can’t and I don’t want to deny how much I’d like to go on a proper date with you”

“But you wanted to ask me out before you knew about Diana, I understand if you don’t–”

It’s not the first time Alexia’s laugh fills your home, but you’re pretty sure each one has been better than the previous.

Maybe you’re a bit too scared of the possibility of losing this, losing her already.

“Stop right there, I still want to go on a proper date with you”, she looks pretty frustrated, trying to explain herself while being considerate of your feelings and the situation, “I think I like you even more”

“Are you sure?”

“Diana is a wonderful kid, and I met her just a couple of hours ago during her silent strike”, the blonde says, and you both giggle at the little girl’s antics, the tension in the room easing.

“She’s everything for me, Ale”

“You want to protect her, I respect that”

You’re getting quite emotional, overwhelmed by Alexia’s understanding and your selfish desire to keep her in your life without hurting hers or your feelings in the process.

Or worse, your daughter’s.

“I’m willing to see what happens if you are too, no pressure”

“Alexia, I have a daughter you just find out about”

“Don’t worry, I will win her over too when the time comes”

[rcmclachlan]

One of my most persistent headcanons is that the 118 and the 217 work together in secret to try and get Buck and Tommy back together because none of them can take it anymore. They're all sick to death of the moping, the constant checking of phones, the sad, wistful smiles, the baking—oh god, they're so sick of the baking. Hen's ready to throttle Buck because Chimney's A1C levels are through the roof and if he becomes pre-diabetic she won't be responsible for her actions.

Not to mention the sad playlists. Lucy has been forced to listen to "Wasted Time" by the Eagles so often that if she ever sees Don Henley on the street she's gonna beat the ever-loving fuck out of him.

It isn't long before someone from one station reaches out to the other, because enough already, and then the 118 and 217 are meeting every Friday to brainstorm ways to get these idiots in a room together. But, oddly enough, it feels almost like the universe is working against them.

For one thing, their shifts never line up, even though Bobby and Captain Carson coordinate almost daily on making sure Buck's and Tommy's schedules match. They've even roped a few folks over at Dispatch into it to ensure the 217 and the 118 work the same calls. Despite this, there's a slew of emergencies that manage to mess up all their planning, pulling the 118 and the 217 to opposite sides of the city—or, in some cases, keeping one on the ground while the other is called to the sky.

Once it becomes apparent that The Great Reunification™ isn't going to happen on a call, they shift their efforts to group outings. The 217 are regular haunts of The Naughty Pig—they have a designated table and everything, right next to the staircase. So Eddie starts making noise about wanting to check out this one bar in West Hollywood that he hears is really cool and unpretentious, with an excellent selection of beer and cocktails, and after about a week of him dropping the most unsubtle hints in history, they get Buck to leave King Arthur and his flour in peace for a night so they can grab a drink at The Naughty Pig.

Except, when they show up, Tommy's nowhere to be found. While the others distract Buck by trying to get a table, Dana catches Hen's gaze and makes a small, throat-cutting gesture. They meet in the bathroom and Dana says Tommy went home sick earlier with what she suspects is pneumonia. Which means Hen's going to spend the night in this cool bar while Buck gets white girl wasted on Bud Light. By the time he's on his 8th and warbling into the table about Glee for whatever reason, Hen decides to call it a night.

A week or so after that, Eddie goes for broke and disconnects the battery in his car. That same night, Buck comes over to hang out and play video games (and offload a metric fuck ton of muffins), and when they decide to grab pizza, uh oh! Eddie's truck isn't starting.

He makes a big scene of looking under the hood, but he just can't find the problem. Buck's like "That really sucks but we can always take the jeep?" but no, Eddie needs his truck, how can he live and work without his precious Denali? He decides to call a buddy of his to come over and try to fix the issue, so he leaves the room and calls Tommy, who's surprised to hear from Eddie (which makes Eddie feel like a monster, because, yes, he hasn't really been in touch with Tommy since the breakup but he never meant for Tommy to think their friendship was collateral damage).

Tommy agrees to make the drive over, and Eddie walks back into the living, patting himself on the back, only to find Buck putting his shoes on. Maddie had called while Eddie was on the phone: Mrs. Lee was taken to the hospital by ambulance after a bad fall and Chim and Maddie need him to babysit Jee while they go to LA General. So not only does Eddie's plan backfire spectacularly in a way he can't even be mad about, but Tommy gives him shit for a week because Eddie apparently can't plug a loose cable into a battery on his own.

After that, the 118 and the 217 convene at their usual Friday spot and the mood is dour. Nico thinks it might be time to throw in the towel, and despite everyone making noise about it, no one can really argue with him. They'd given it their all, but the house won.

Then Lucy swans in, takes one look at their disappointed faces, and slaps a piece of paper down onto the table. It's a flyer for the Backdraft Ball next month.

Chim looks up at her, expression grave, and asks, "Do you really think this will work?"

"It's either this or I go to jail for murdering every single living member of the Eagles," Lucy says. "Which I might do anyway. I haven't decided."

"Well, we've come this far." Hen lifts her glass and surveys the rest of the table.

"And if it fails," Dana says, the corner of her mouth twitching like she maybe, possibly thinking about smiling within the next decade. "I can't say I haven't enjoyed this. It's been fun hanging out with you weirdos."

Rapping his knuckles on the table top, Eddie cheers, "Hear hear!"

"Your speaking privileges haven't been reinstated," Dana snaps. "Put a sock in it."

"I told you, the mustache was a toxic symbol! You can't still be mad about me shaving it!"

Dana sniffs and takes a dainty sip of her wine. "You look like a mutant four-year old."

"All right," Chim announces, standing. "Operation: Last Ditch Effort is a go."

They clink their glasses to seal the deal. When Dana knocks hers into Eddie's, his stein shatters.

A month passes and everyone's been talking about nothing except the Backdraft Ball, which Buck can't understand. In the eight years he's been a firefighter, they've never once attended.

"Didn't you once call it a pathetic get together for people who had to get their stomachs pumped on prom night?" He asks Hen, who's browsing the Local Eclectic website for earrings to go with her admittedly amazing jumpsuit.

Hen shrugs. "What can I say, Buckaroo? I've grown as a person."

Meanwhile, at the 217, Lucy corners Tommy in the Bell-205 and says, "If you don't go to the Backdraft Ball with me, I'm gonna tell everyone you said Elon Musk is a genius who's going to save the country."

Horrified, he says, "That's a fucking lie! You know I hate him more than my dad!"

Lucy smiles meanly. "I do know that. No one else does, though."

Later, when she's alone, she sends the group chat two emojis: a helicopter and a thumbs up.

Finally, the big night arrives and everyone's dressed to the nines. Even Buck can't help but be a little excited, because he's in a really nicely tailored tux, courtesy of Ravi for some reason, and there's a literal mountain of scallops wrapped in bacon, which he stands next to for most of the night until Maddie, who came as Chimney's date, wanders over and asks why he's not mingling.

"I dunno," he says, shoving his sixty-seventh scallop into his mouth. "I-I always thought... I guess I hoped I'd come to one of these with Tommy, you know? He's such a sucker for the whole all-eyes-on-you thing. He never went to any of his school dances, not even prom, because he wouldn't get to dance with the people he really wanted. I... I wanted to be that for him."

While Buck turns to the scallop mountain—which is more of a foothill now, thanks to his tireless efforts—Maddie looks across the ballroom where Lucy is talking to Tommy. Their gazes lock. Over Tommy's shoulder, Lucy jerks her head toward the dance floor, where they're playing some golden oldies and dozens of ancient captains are dancing with their wives to The Girl From Yesterday.

Maddie nods, then grabs Buck's hand. "C'mon. I want to get at least one dance in before the night's over."

Pulling a scallop off a toothpick, Buck squints. "Where's Chim? Isn't that, like, one of his duties as your husband?"

"Last I saw him, he was trying to convince Chief Simpson to install crazy slides in all the firehouses," Maddie says sunnily. "And honestly? Chief Simpson looked intrigued. So suck it up and take your sister for a spin."

Buck rolls his eyes and pops one more scallop into his mouth for the road, but he goes with her without complaint. Maddie stops at their table and says she's going to text their babysitter. She sends the group chat the green circle emoji. It's go time.

Elsewhere, Lucy slips her phone into her purse, then grabs Tommy's arm and says, "Great news! Dana's gonna make the DJ play something else before I burn the building down, which means we can get a dance in."

Wordlessly, Dana gets out of her seat and heads toward the front of the room.

Lucy drags Tommy into the crowd and makes sure to keep his line of sight away from where Maddie is doing the same to Buck. They've only got one shot at this and the timing has to be perfect.

Her cheek on Buck's chest, Maddie holds Lucy's gaze and gently leads him into a half circle, just as Lucy does the same with Tommy. Lucy gives a sharp nod of her head and, hands on Tommy's arms, spins him around so that when Maddie puts a hand on Buck's chest and shoves him as hard as she can, Tommy's there to break his fall.

"H-Hey, what was th—" Buck looks up with wide, outraged eyes, but the words stick in his throat when he sees who caught him.

Tommy's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Even if he'd been able to find the words, the sweet keys of an old piano would've drowned them out.

Smirking, Lucy shoves Tommy a little closer, just as Nat King Cole croons "Unforgettable... that's what you are."

Lucy makes a note to buy Dana lunch the next time they're on shift, because, damn, good choice.

Almost as if he's helpless to stop himself, Tommy tightens his hold on Buck's waist, wrapping his arm a little tighter around him, and Buck can't prevent a shaky gasp from punching out of him when he gets a whiff of Tommy's cologne. He puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder to steady himself, unerringly stepping closer until they're chest to chest.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't..." He trails off, caught in Tommy's gaze, and he doesn't blink out of fear that this is some mercury-induced hallucination from all the scallops.

Smiling a little, Tommy takes Buck's hand in his. "You're free to say no, but—"

"Yes," Buck says immediately, nodding, tightening his fingers around Tommy's. "Yeah, let's, uh. Yeah."

Catching Maddie's gaze, Lucy jerks her head back toward the refreshment table, where the rest of their group is waiting. Hen's got the biggest shit-eating grin on her face, and Nico is dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a corner of Dana's shawl.

"Nicely done," Lucy says to Maddie, who preens a little.

"If you'd let me in on your little scheme earlier, I could've had them back together in a day."

They accept the back slaps and high-fives they've more than earned, then turn just in time for Buck to rest his cheek against Tommy's as they sway together. Maddie squints a little, but she thinks she sees Tommy murmuring along with Natalie Cole. "No, never before... has someone been more..."

She sniffles a little and happily takes the plate of fruit and cheese that Chimney hands her.

"Save the Studio Ghibli tears for the wedding," he says teasingly, then adopts the weird Brooklyn accent he busts out sometimes. "Ya did good, kid."

"I did good," Dana breaks in. "And if they use this song for their first dance, I take full credit."

She looks over at Nico, who's using a toothpick—with a zucchini and goat cheese rollup still skewered on it—to get something out from beneath his nail, and smacks him upside the head.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I've stopped shaving," Eddie says to her, gesturing toward his face with a can of ginger ale. "Am I allowed to speak again?"

She gives him a deadpan look. "Give it another week, then maybe. Right now you look like you're going through puberty again."

"Better than being four," he says cheerfully.

The group content themselves with watching Buck and Tommy for another minute, but when Buck tilts his head ever so slightly to brush his nose against Tommy's, Lucy makes a face. "I guess this means we don't need to keep meeting up on Fridays, huh?"

"Whoever said that?" Hen grins. "I still haven't managed to beat you at air hockey, Donato. I demand a rematch."

"Plus, my friend Josh has been a little unlucky in love these days and could use a hand," Maddie chimes in, then gestures toward the dance floor. "Our results speak for themselves."

The song has changed, but Buck and Tommy haven't noticed, too busy wrapped up in each other.

Lucy tilts her head and smiles. It looks like Tommy's exhaled for the first time in weeks.

Don Henley gets to live another day.

[violettwrites]

american teenagers — iii.

prev | next

your mind was still reeling from last night.

it wasn’t the first time daryl had stepped in between you and some guy who didn’t know how to take a hint, but this time felt different. it wasn’t just the way he swung at merle’s buddy or how his jaw clenched with every insult the guy threw. it was something in his eyes— sharp and intense, almost angry. but angry at what, you didn’t have a clue.

daryl was like that though. a locked box with no key in sight. sometimes you swore you could almost hear the gears turning in his head, but he never let much out. you’d know him long enough to understand he wasn’t one for words anyway.

still, he hadn’t come back after walking you to your trailer last night. he claimed he needed to check on merle, who half stumbled into the bonfire and was likely causing all kinds of trouble. he left without much more than a gruff get some sleep, and just like that, he was gone.

now unfortunately, you didn’t have time to sit around and piece together what it all meant. life in a small town didn’t stop for a little heartache or confusion, and neither did your job.

the gas station wasn’t exactly where you’d imagine yourself spending your days, but it paid just enough to keep your dad off your back and your cigarettes stocked. that was enough for now.

leaning against the counter, you stared out at the aisles of junk food and faded magazines, listening to the hum of the cooler in the background. a slow day— nothing new. the usual parade of truckers passing through and the town’s regulars had already come and gone, mostl leaving behind a little more than crude remarks or greasy handprints on the counter.

the bell over the door jingled, pulling your from your thoughts. your eyes flickered toward the entrance, ready to size up the next customer— and froze.

daryl.

he walked in like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down the night before, his shoulders hunched slightly, his eyes scanning the shelves before they landed on you.

“hey,” he spoke lowly, his voice rough but still soft, like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.

“hey,” you replied, your tone more even than you felt. you straightened up, wiping your hands on your jeans.

for a moment, he didn’t move, just stood there like he was debating whether to stay or turn around. then he scratched the back of his neck, his signature sign of nervousness, and shuffled over to the counter.

“figured i’d stop by,” he muttered, his gaze flickering between you and the counter top. “see how you were doin’.”

your chest tightened at his words, but you kept your face neutral. “i’m fine,” you said, though the slight crack in your voice betrayed you.

his eyes narrowed slightly, and you could tell he didn’t believe you. “that guy last night… he didn’t—“

“no,” you interrupted quickly. “he didn’t. you made sure of that.”

daryl’s jaw worked, his teeth pressing together for a moment before he nodded. “good.”

the silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded, but not uncomfortable. it was the kind of silence you’d shared a hundred times before, the kind where words weren’t always necessary. still, something about this one felt different and you couldn’t stop your mind from reeling.

“why’d you do it?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. you were aware you had already asked him the same thing last night, but you weren’t exactly convinced.

daryl blinked, caught off guard. “do what?”

“jump in like that,” you clarified, your voice softer now. “i know i already asked, and i know you’ve done it before. but last night felt— i don’t know. different.”

he glanced away, his fingers tapping lightly against the counter. for a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he spoke, his voice low and almost hesitant.

“didn’t really think about it,” he admitted. “just saw him grabbin’ you, and… i don’t know. i just had to.”

your breath caught a little, his words hanging in the air between you. there was something much more raw and honest in his words compared to last night, something that made your heart ache in a way you didn’t entirely understand.

before you could respond, the bell above the door jingled again, breaking the spell. a customer had wandered in, and daryl straightened, his usual guarded expression slipping back into place.

“i’ll see you later,” he said gruffly, already backing towards the door.

you nodded, watching as he disappeared into the sunlight, the door swinging shut behind him.

and just like that, he was gone again. a guarded, closed off, enigma of a being wrapped in the perfect little package of daryl dixon. you weren’t as frusturated anymore, because for once, you felt like you’d seen a glimpse of something deeper in him, something he rarely let anyone see.

but you still needed answers.

when your shift had ended, the sticky heat of the afternoon had finally begun to fade, replaced by the warm, golden glow of the sun setting. you grabbed your things and headed back to the trailer park, your mind still a tangled mess of thoughts about daryl.

the familiar hum of a radio met your ears as you rounded the corner of your trailer. merle was sitting on a lawn chair out the front of his own, a beer in hand and heavy boots kicked up on a cinderblock. hearing your footsteps, he looked up, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

“hey there, darlin’,” he drawled, raising his beer ever so slightly towards you. “thought you’d still be hidin’ out after lasts nights little circus.”

you rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him as you completely ignored his comment. “where’s daryl?”

merle shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. “hell if i know, ain’t seen him since this mornin’. why? you two lovebirds having a spat?”

“cut it out merle,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “i just— i don’t get him sometimes, y’know? one second he’s all protective, and the next, he’s gone.”

merle chuckled, shaking his head. “that’s daryl for ya. thought you woulda known that by now. kid’s got more walls than this whole damn trailer park. don’t take it personal— he don’t even know what the hell’s goin’ on in that head of his half the time.”

you frowned, his words not exactly comforting, but hitting a little too close to the truth. “so what? he’s just like this with everyone?”

“nah,” merle said, his grin fading ever so slightly. “he’s got a soft spot for ya, whether he knows it or not. don’t mean he’s gonna start wearin’ his heart on his sleeve, or whatever.”

you sighed, sinking down onto the lawn chair next to him, forehead pressing against your knees. “figures.”

merle leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “give him time, sweetheart. he’s like a stray dog— gotta let him come to you.”

you huffed a laugh despite yourself, shaking your head as you raised it to look at him. “thanks, merle. real helpful.”

he raised his bear in a mock toast once again, his signature shit eating grin on his features. “anytime, darlin’.”

as the sun dipped lower into the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but wonder if merle was right. maybe daryl just needed time. or maybe you’d have to find a way to break through those walls yourself.

sure, you had known daryl for a big part of your life, and you thought you knew everything there was to know about him— but apparently not. because merle was right. he did have more walls than this damn trailer park.

and the worst part? you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to climb over them.

eeeee here’s chapter 3 !!! i really hope you guys enjoyed it ! not much daryl content unfortunately but we’re getting some merle x reader content (one of my fave friendships tbh)

if you enjoyed, please give this a like or a reblog ! i always appreciate it. and don’t forget to comment below if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

tag list: @rotten-biter @negansbestie @moonbaby6 @sunnykittyzz @twd4life7 @r3zn @besosderuina

[sillygoose067]

Hate to be Lame

Lewis Pullman x Reader

You slid into the backseat of the Uber, your mind already back at the office as you thumbed through a string of unread emails on your phone. You had barely closed the door when the driver glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling with a slightly nervous smile.

“Hey, uh, quick thing,” he said, one hand still loosely gripping the steering wheel. “Mind if I pick up another passenger on the way? It’s just a quick detour, and, you know… gas prices.” He chuckled, a little sheepishly, like he half-expected you to say no.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the glowing screen as your mind flicked to the ticking clock at the top corner. You had exactly twenty-two minutes left on your break before you needed to be back at your desk, but the way the driver’s eyes flicked nervously to the dashboard, you figured he could probably use the extra cash.

“Um… sure, yeah, that’s fine,” you said, forcing a small, polite smile as you set your phone down, trying not to overthink it.

“Thanks, really appreciate it,” he said, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he merged back into traffic.

A few minutes later, the car pulled up outside a small, nondescript café, and the driver gave a quick, sharp honk of the horn. The door beside you opened, and a tall figure ducked in, the rush of cool, coffee-scented air following him into the backseat.

You glanced up, instinctively scooting a little closer to the opposite side, and found yourself staring at a familiar face. His eyes flicked to you, widening slightly in surprise before he quickly looked at the driver, one hand bracing against the edge of the door.

“Uh, this is… this is the right car, right?” he said, his voice a little lower, a little rougher than you’d expected, his brow furrowing as he leaned back out to check the license plate.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re good, man,” the driver assured him, throwing a quick, reassuring wave over his shoulder. “Just a little ride share, you know, nothing crazy.” He winced. “Sorry.”

The man hesitated, his eyes flicking back to you, his lips parting like he wanted to ask if you were okay with this arrangement, but then he caught the faint hint of polite, if slightly awkward, agreement in your expression and slid fully into the seat, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Sorry,” he said, a faint, slightly sheepish smile curving his lips as he settled back, his long legs folding into the limited legroom with practiced ease. “Didn’t mean to, uh, crash your ride.”

You managed a small, tight-lipped smile, your fingers twisting slightly in your lap as you glanced out the window, the awkward, too-close silence settling in almost immediately. You knew his face, of course — his profile had been all over billboards and streaming ads for the past few months, his latest project seemingly everywhere you looked. But the faint, polite nod you offered felt more appropriate than any starstruck gushing, your mind already flinching at the thought of making things even more uncomfortable.

He seemed to catch on to your attempts at maintaining some semblance of normalcy, a small, relieved exhale slipping from his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth as he glanced your way.

“Alright, so… I guess we should introduce ourselves, since we’re, you know… carpool buddies now,” he said, his tone light and faint, a chuckle slipping past his lips. He offered a hand, his palm warm and slightly calloused as your fingers brushed against his. “I’m Lewis.”

You gave your name in return, your voice a little softer, a little more hesitant than you’d intended, and his head tilted slightly, his eyes crinkling in a way that made the space between you feel just a fraction less stifling.

A few seconds ticked by, the soft hum of the engine and the low thrum of a forgotten pop song filtering through the speakers filling the otherwise oppressive silence. You glanced down at your phone, your thumb twitching against the side, a small, nervous habit you hadn’t quite managed to shake.

After another painfully quiet minute, you cleared your throat, your gaze flicking to the side as you forced yourself to break the silence. “Um… I’m not, like… trying to make this awkward or anything,” you said, the words tumbling out a little faster, a little more unevenly than you’d meant, your cheeks warming slightly as you caught the surprised flicker in his eyes. “I’m just… really bad at small talk. And… talking in general, actually. So, um, sorry if this is weird.”

For a split second, Lewis just stared at you, his brows lifting slightly in surprise, and then his lips curved into a small, genuinely amused grin, a soft, relieved chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“No, no, I get it,” he said, his tone a little warmer, a little more relaxed now, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee as he shifted in his seat. “Honestly, same. I mean, for an actor, I’m surprisingly terrible at talking to people outside of, you know… work.”

You felt a small, reluctant smile creep onto your lips, your nerves easing just a little as you leaned back against the cool leather seat, the awkwardness between you shifting into something a little softer, a little more tentative, like the first uncertain steps onto unfamiliar ground.

You tried to focus on your phone, scrolling through a half-dozen unread emails as the car eased back into traffic, the soft hum of the engine and the gentle sway of the ride providing a muted, almost comforting backdrop. But the awareness of the man sitting barely a foot away from you, his presence a warm, steady weight in the otherwise quiet backseat, made it hard to concentrate.

He shifted slightly beside you, his elbow brushing the seat between you as he leaned back, his gaze flicking out the window before settling back on you, his eyes catching the slight tension in your posture.

“So,” he said, his voice a little softer, a little more tentative than before, like he was testing the waters. “Heading home?”

You blinked, startled out of your thoughts, your head snapping up to meet his curious, slightly tilted gaze. “Oh, uh… break,” you stammered, your fingers tightening instinctively around your phone. “Just trying to squeeze in a quick trip before the next round of migraines.”

Lewis chuckled, a warm, slightly rough sound that settled the nerves still prickling at the edges of your mind. “I know the feeling,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned a little closer, his tone taking on a conspiratorial edge. “Long hours, too many meetings, and the constant feeling that you’re forgetting something important.”

You let out a small, slightly breathless laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction as you met his gaze, the corners of your lips curving into a faint, slightly sheepish smile. “Pretty much,” you admitted, your fingers twitching nervously against your phone case. “Though, I’m guessing your ‘meetings’ are a little more glamorous than mine.”

He grinned, a faint, slightly embarrassed flush creeping up his neck as he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering at the nape of his neck like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. “I mean, maybe,” he said, his tone a little self-deprecating, his eyes flicking to the side as if considering his words. “But honestly, half the time it’s just me sitting around in a trailer, trying not to spill coffee on my costume or forget any lines.”

You let out a small, genuine laugh, the sound catching in your throat as his eyes snapped back to yours, a faint, relieved smile spreading across his lips at your reaction. You could feel a small, unsteady warmth blooming in your chest, your heart stuttering slightly as you realized, with a faint jolt, that you were actually starting to relax a little.

You shifted in your seat, your fingers still fidgeting nervously against your phone case as you tried to keep the conversation going, the silence between you no longer quite as suffocating but still tinged with a faint, unspoken tension.

“So, uh… what’s your schedule like?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could second-guess yourself, your cheeks warming slightly as you glanced down at your hands. “I imagine it’s a bit more… chaotic than mine.”

He let out a small, breathless chuckle, his head tilting back slightly as he considered your question. “Yeah, you could say that,” he said, his eyes flicking back to yours, a small, slightly wistful smile tugging at his lips. “A lot of early mornings and late nights, a lot of sitting around and waiting for the right light or the right take. But… I don’t know, it’s worth it, I think.”

You managed a small, understanding nod, your nerves easing a little more as you met his gaze, the soft, unspoken warmth in his eyes settling something in your chest that you hadn’t realized was still tense.

Before you could think of what to say next, the car slowed to a stop, the driver glancing back over his shoulder with a small, polite nod. “Alright, this is you,” he said, his eyes flicking to the building outside as he tapped a few buttons on the dashboard.

You blinked, a small, startled jolt running through you as you realized your stop had come up quicker than you’d expected. You reached for the door handle, your fingers trembling slightly as you offered the man beside you a small, polite smile.

“Well, um… thanks for the company,” you said, your voice a little softer, a little more uncertain than you’d meant, your pulse quickening as you caught the faint, surprised flicker in Lewis' eyes. “It was… nice talking to you.”

You started to step out, one foot already on the curb when his hand reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm, the warmth of his touch startling but not unwelcome.

“Wait,” he said, his tone a little breathless, a faint, uncertain smile curving his lips as his eyes met yours, a hint of something like relief flickering in their dark depths. “It was… really nice talking to you, too. I, uh… don’t get that a lot.”

You felt your cheeks warm, your heart stumbling over itself as you caught the faint, sincere warmth in his expression, the small, slightly self-conscious shift in his posture as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I mean… it’s just nice, you know?” he continued, his words a little more rushed now, like he was afraid you’d slip away before he could finish. “Talking to someone who isn’t, like… making a big deal about it. Just… normal.”

You hesitated, your heart still racing as his eyes flicked back to yours, his hand slipping back to his side as he straightened, his shoulders tense like he was bracing for rejection.

“So… maybe we could do this again sometime?” he said, his tone a little quieter, a little more uncertain now, his gaze dropping to the seat between you before flicking back to your face. “Just, you know… chat. Without all the…,” he gestured around him.

Your breath caught, your fingers tightening instinctively around the strap of your bag as his words sank in, the unexpected warmth in this... honestly, he was still a stranger to you-- his tone catching you off guard. But you didn’t feel unsafe, and despite the nervous flutter in your chest, you found yourself nodding, your lips parting in a small, slightly breathless smile as you met his eyes again.

“Yeah… yeah, I’d like that,” you said, your voice a little steadier now, the small, relieved exhale that slipped past his lips sending a warm, unsteady flutter through your chest.

You fumbled for your phone, your fingers still trembling slightly as you pulled up your contact screen, your heart still racing as you traded numbers, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he handed your phone back, a small, slightly relieved smile curving his lips.

“Alright,” he said, his voice a little rough, a little breathless as he leaned back in his seat, his eyes lingering on your face for a second longer before he nodded, a small, slightly awkward chuckle slipping past his lips. “I’ll… text you. Later.”

You managed a small, shaky nod, your heart still stumbling over itself as you slipped out of the car, the door clicking shut behind you as the engine hummed back to life, the faint, lingering warmth of his touch still tingling against your skin as you watched the car pull away, your phone still clutched tightly in your hand.

---

The days after the Uber ride felt like a strange dream. The brief, awkward encounter in the backseat of the car had turned into something unexpected, and every time your phone buzzed with a new message from him, you found yourself smiling just a little wider. It wasn’t anything monumental—just small exchanges, nothing like the intensity you’d imagined romance would be. But it was enough to make your heart flutter, enough to leave you wondering if there could be more to this thing than you’d first realized.

At first, it was just casual coffee meet-ups, or quick chats in between work schedules, keeping it simple and unhurried. Lewis was an actor, always on the move, juggling scripts and auditions and press events. You, on the other hand, were buried under a mountain of deadlines, client meetings, and late-night project revisions. But somehow, amidst the chaos, the little moments you spent with him felt like an oasis.

It was a Thursday afternoon when the conversation turned more personal, one of those moments when you both found yourselves sitting across from each other at a cozy café, sipping on overpriced lattes and feeling surprisingly at ease despite the awkwardness that clung to the air at times. You had just finished talking about your hectic day, something about a report gone wrong and a team meeting that could have been handled better, when he leaned back in his chair, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup.

“So… are you in a relationship?” he asked, the question slipping out so casually it almost sounded like an afterthought. His eyes were warm but curious, an eyebrow raised as he leaned forward just a little, as though waiting for an answer that would somehow tell him more about you than any previous conversation had.

You nearly snorted, the sound so abrupt that it startled both of you. “A relationship?” you repeated, your mind instantly scrambling for some semblance of dignity. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts but finding only embarrassment. “Uh… no. Never been on a date, much less had a partner.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, you both burst into laughter at the same time, the nervous kind, but real, genuine laughter all the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed like that—completely unrestrained, without worrying about how you sounded, or how you looked, or whether you were being awkward. And for the first time in ages, you didn’t mind the awkwardness; it felt… nice, comforting even.

His smile softened, though there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “You’re serious? Never even been on a date?” His voice was laced with a disbelief that made your face flush even deeper. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d meet someone who hasn’t at least done the whole dinner-and-movie thing.”

“I know,” you said, shaking your head, trying to brush off the discomfort with a small, sheepish grin. “I guess I’ve just been… too focused on work, or… well, I don’t know. It’s just never really happened.”

He leaned back again, clearly processing this new piece of information. You could see his thoughts working behind those dark, thoughtful eyes of his, but there was no judgment, just an understanding that made you feel oddly safe.

“Well,” he said after a pause, his voice warm but teasing, “that just means you’re in for a whole new world of experiences.” There was a playfulness in his tone, but something else too—a sense of wanting to take things slow, to help you discover this new territory at your own pace.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat but found that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to pull away from the conversation. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of that,” you admitted, feeling a touch self-conscious. “I mean… I don’t even know where to start. I’m kinda… out of my depth here.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing glint faded, replaced with something gentler, almost tender. “Hey, no pressure,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’m not in a rush. I just want to get to know you, you know? No big expectations. If you ever want to… I don’t know, go for dinner or a walk or something, I’m here. Just taking it one step at a time.”

You met his gaze, a sense of warmth washing over you at his words, and a tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest. Maybe this didn’t have to be a big, overwhelming thing. Maybe it could just be... slow, easy, something that felt natural and not forced.

Over the next couple of weeks, those casual, easy hangouts continued. More coffee dates, more laughs, more quiet moments where you found yourself stealing glances at him when he wasn’t looking. You began to feel something deeper, a soft fluttering feeling that had no name yet, but it made your stomach twist every time he smiled at you, every time his fingers brushed against yours when handing you a napkin or passing you your drink.

One evening, after a particularly long workday, he invited you to dinner. It was quiet, a simple meal at a little restaurant with flickering candles and soft music playing in the background, just the two of you sitting across from each other. As you talked, your conversation drifting between your childhood memories and his experiences on set, something shifted. It wasn’t the same nervousness, the same awkwardness that had marked the beginning. This was different—more familiar, more comfortable.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned forward just a little, his eyes twinkling. “You’ve got the whole work-life balance thing figured out, huh?”

You chuckled, swirling your drink. “Hardly,” you said, the warmth in your chest spreading as you looked at him. “I’m just getting through the day-to-day.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, his smile widening as he leaned back in his chair, his tone becoming a little more serious. “But, y’know, if you’re ever up for something less work-oriented… maybe a little less routine… I’d be down for that.”

It was the first time he said anything that made your heart race in that way. You could feel the soft warmth of the words wrapping around you, filling you with an uncertain but undeniable anticipation. You were still a little nervous, but for the first time, you felt like you might be ready.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice almost a whisper. “I think… I think I’d like that.”

---

The night had drifted into that comfortable, easy rhythm, the kind where everything feels just right without any effort. The Italian bistro had a warm, inviting vibe—dim lights, the scent of fresh basil wafting in the air, and a soft hum of conversations around you. The perfect place for a relaxed evening that, as far as you could tell, wasn’t going to be anything like the first awkward moments you’d shared.

You’d been talking for what felt like hours, and yet the conversation never seemed to run dry. The moment you both sat down, you fell into a natural ease, exchanging jokes and stories. His smile was disarming, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time, the sound of it seeming to flow effortlessly between you.

“So, tell me something you’ve never told anyone,” Lewis asked, leaning back in his chair with that teasing glint in his eye, as if challenging you to open up in a way that felt lighthearted rather than intimidating.

You raised an eyebrow, wondering how you could answer that one without giving too much away. You glanced down at your plate, searching for something to say, then finally let out a breath and replied, “Alright, here’s one. I’m obsessed with really bad reality TV. The trashier, the better.”

He grinned. “Oh, I knew there was something about you. What’s your guilty pleasure?”

You laughed, a little embarrassed. “Honestly, anything with bad drama. The Bachelor, Real Housewives... you name it. I love watching people’s lives unravel in the most dramatic ways possible.”

His laugh was easy, and for a moment, you forgot about the nerves. “I get it. There’s something kind of comforting about watching people have their messes put out there, right? Meanwhile, my life is a pretty boring series of rehearsals and early mornings.”

“You’d be surprised,” you replied with a smirk. “That sounds pretty glamorous compared to my pile of spreadsheets and meetings.”

“You do have a point,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “But hey, we all need a break from the grind, right?”

The waiter arrived with the main courses, and the conversation shifted to more comfortable ground as you both discussed the food. It was light-hearted, easy, like you were just two people enjoying an evening out rather than focusing on anything too heavy.

But then, as the conversation lulled, you felt the shift. The air between you two felt a little thicker, more charged. And you realized it was because the topics you’d discussed were personal in their own way—sharing things that were a little quirky, a little unpolished. It was a side of each other that hadn’t come out in your earlier, more cautious conversations.

“So,” he said after a few moments, his voice quieter now, as if a bit hesitant, “What’s your go-to karaoke song?”

You blinked, not expecting the question. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said with a mischievous grin, leaning forward a little. “What song would you totally rock at karaoke?”

You laughed, feeling a little shy but also eager to indulge in something fun. “I mean, I don’t do karaoke... but if I did, I’d probably go with something like ‘Rolling in the Deep.’ You know, classic.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! That’s a great choice. I can already picture you owning that stage.”

You blushed, shifting in your seat. “Alright, now you have to tell me. What would you sing?”

He thought about it for a second, then grinned, the playful glint in his eyes returning. “I’m not sure I should admit this, but… ‘Living on a Prayer.’ I know, it’s a little cheesy, but it’s got energy, you know?”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair, genuinely amused. “I’d pay to see that. You and a crowd, belting out Bon Jovi?”

“I think we’d have a pretty good time,” he said with a wink. “Maybe we should try it sometime.”

The banter continued, moving between small, silly things, moments where you each learned just a bit more about each other. A shared appreciation for quirky hobbies, your mutual love for spontaneous dance parties in the living room when nobody’s around, your terrible dancing skills—things that brought out smiles and laughter.

As the evening wore on, the rain outside began to pick up, the soft tapping against the window adding to the cozy, almost intimate atmosphere. When the dessert arrived—tiramisu, of course—he joked that you could fight over the last piece, but neither of you did. Instead, you both enjoyed it quietly, savoring the moment.

By the time the bill was paid, the tension had melted away entirely. You were standing by the door, ready to head out, but the soft glow of the streetlights against the wet pavement made it feel like the night was far from over.

He smiled at you, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “So… I guess that’s the end of our little dinner date? Um, can I walk you home?”

---

The rain whispered against the windows, a soft, steady backdrop to the charged silence in the narrow hallway. He stood just a step away, his jacket draped over one arm, his other hand flexing subtly at his side like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. His shirt was still a little damp from the misty walk over, a faint trace of fresh rain clinging to his hair, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him in the small, enclosed space.

“I should… probably head out,” he said, his voice low and rough around the edges, like the words had to scrape their way out of his throat. His eyes flicked to the door over your shoulder, then back to your face, his gaze lingering a second too long, his breath a little unsteady as it ghosted over your cheek.

You felt your pulse stutter, a warmth blooming in your chest that spread quickly to your face, the unfamiliar rush of it making your fingers twist nervously at the hem of your sleeve. His eyes dropped, catching the small, self-soothing motion, and his jaw flexed, a faint crease forming between his brows like he was debating something with himself.

He took a small, careful step closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the faint warmth of his breath brushing your cheek. His free hand twitched at his side, fingers flexing like he was fighting the urge to reach for you, his eyes flicking back to your lips with a raw, unguarded longing that sent your heart skittering in your chest.

He leaned in slowly, his head dipping, his nose brushing yours in a soft, testing touch. His breath caught, a small, unsteady sound slipping past his lips as you froze, your eyes wide and lips parted, your mind stumbling over itself, caught between the unfamiliar thrill of his nearness and the quiet, aching want in his eyes.

He hesitated there, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours, the tension hanging so thick you swore you could feel the electricity crackling in the narrow space between you. His hand finally moved, lifting slowly to your waist, his fingers brushing lightly against your side, the warmth of his touch spreading like a slow, steady flame through the thin fabric of your shirt.

You let out a small, involuntary breath, a soft, barely audible sound that seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. His grip tightened slightly, his thumb pressing gently into your side as his other hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers slipping into your hair as he leaned in fully, his lips finally, firmly pressing against yours.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, his lips moving against yours with a kind of careful, unhurried intensity, like he was trying to show you something he didn’t have words for. His breath hitched as you responded, your fingers curling instinctively into the front of his damp shirt, the cool, rain-soaked fabric clinging to your palm as you leaned into him, a small, surprised whimper slipping from your throat when he deepened the kiss, his mouth parting slightly against yours.

His thumb brushed a slow, soothing circle against your waist, his breaths coming quicker now, his fingers tightening in your hair as his lips moved more firmly against yours, a quiet, relieved noise rumbling low in his chest as you responded without pulling back. You felt the soft, wet sounds of the kiss blend with the distant whisper of rain against the glass, the soft rustle of his jacket as it slipped slightly in his grasp, your fingers clinging a little tighter as he shifted closer, pressing his body just a fraction closer to yours.

When he finally broke away, his breaths came in short, uneven bursts, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his eyes still half-closed, the faintest hint of color blooming high on his cheeks as he caught his breath.

You felt your own face heat up, your fingers still clutching his shirt as you tried to process the rush of warmth still pulsing through your veins, your lips tingling in the lingering warmth of his kiss. You realized, a little belatedly, that you were still holding onto him, your knuckles pressing into the firm muscle of his chest, and a small, breathless laugh slipped from you, your head ducking slightly in a mix of shyness and disbelief at your own boldness.

He let out a soft, breathless chuckle in response, his fingers slipping slowly from your hair, his thumb brushing one last, lingering circle against your waist before his hand fell back to his side, his eyes finding yours again, darker and a little more vulnerable than you’d ever seen them.

“I… um,” he stammered, his voice still a little rough, the faintest hint of a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he tried to catch his breath. “I should… probably say goodnight before I, uh… get too comfortable.”

You felt another burst of warmth flare in your chest at his flustered tone, your heart still racing as you managed a small, shaky nod, your lips tingling as you tried to form words around the strange, breathless warmth still clinging to your skin.

“Yeah… yeah, okay,” you whispered, your voice a little unsteady as you slowly let go of his shirt, your fingers trembling slightly as they fell back to your side, the faint pressure of his lips still echoing against your own.

He took a slow, shaky step back, his eyes lingering on your face for a second longer, his lips parting like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t quite find the words. Then, with a small, breathless huff, he gave a short, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped back another pace, his eyes flicking to the door.

“See you next time?” he asked, his voice a little more certain, though his eyes still held that faint, uncertain warmth, like he wasn’t quite ready to let the moment go.

You managed a small, breathless smile, your heart still stumbling over itself as you nodded, your fingers still tingling in the cool air where his warmth had been.

“Next time,” you whispered, your cheeks still flushed, the word slipping from your lips like a promise, a quiet, breathless agreement that you weren’t quite ready to part with yet.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Will Rafe and readers children get arranged marriage too? If it’s traditional in reader’s family does that mean that there’s matches found for the children already? Would reader let that happen to her kids? I expect reader’s parents would push for arrangements to be made as soon as a child is born

Always repeating itself || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: lol I was think of this video for the beginning since I saw soo many tiktok comments joking abt it how it would be him walking to the car and saying kids get in the car 😭😭

Warnings: angst!!!!

Word count: 2,193

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Kids! Let’s go!” Rafe’s voice carries from the foyer, sharp and commanding, though not without a hint of warmth. You take a moment to smooth down Madeline’s dress, her little hands fidgeting as her eyes gleam with excitement. “Alright, sweetheart, off you go,” you whisper, giving her a gentle nudge as she bolts toward the door, her laughter ringing through the hallway.

Leo lingers behind, slower to move, his tiny fingers wrapped tightly around your hand. “Careful on the stairs,” you call after Madeline, already bounding ahead, her shoes thudding loudly against the floor. You grab your bag, glancing back one more time at Leo as he moves in front of you. His small hands gripping the railing as he steps carefully down each stair.

“Take your time, Leo,” you murmur, a soft smile spreading across your face as your hand instinctively rests on your rounded belly, the growing weight of the life inside you grounding your steps. Rafe watches from below, his eyes narrowing slightly but softening as he sees Leo’s slower pace. Madeline is already at his side, her hands swinging in his, filled with boundless energy.

“C’mon, buddy,” Rafe says, his tone firm yet encouraging as he extends his hand toward Leo. Leo finally reaches his father, slipping his small hand into Rafe’s, while you take the final steps down, your movements slower, more deliberate. Rafe’s eyes linger on you for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his face before he turns back to the children. “Got everything?” he asks, his voice low as he reaches for the car keys.

You nod softly, pressing a hand against your stomach again, feeling the light kick beneath your skin. “Yeah,” you reply with a hum, your eyes locking with his for a brief second before shifting to the children, now racing toward the front door. There’s a weight to the moment, one that neither of you acknowledges out loud, but it lingers like the unspoken words always do between you two.

Rafe steps aside, closing the door behind you as he unlocks the g-wagon with a beep. You open the back door for the kids, watching as Leo and Madeline clamber into their seats, their excitement barely contained. Rafe moves around the car, quietly buckling the kids in. His movements are precise, almost mechanical, but there’s an undeniable care in the way he makes sure their belts are snug.

You lean back in your seat, one hand tracing slow circles on your belly, feeling the gentle stirring beneath the fabric of your dress. The feeling always brings you a strange comfort, a reminder of the life growing inside you, of the future you didn’t quite plan but now couldn’t imagine without. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Rafe shifts the car into gear, glancing over his shoulder as he reverses out of the driveway. The sound of the tyres crunching against the gravel fills the silence for a few moments.

“Do you know what this is about?” Rafe breaks the silence, his eyes flicking toward you with a mixture of curiosity and mild concern. There’s something else there too—wariness, perhaps. He’s never been one to be at ease around your parents, and this unexpected meeting only stirs that discomfort. You shrug lightly, your gaze focused out the window for a moment before returning to the rhythmic movement of your hands across your stomach.

“No idea,” you murmur, your voice soft, almost distant. You can feel the tension building in your chest, an old, familiar feeling whenever your parents are involved. The tightness grows as you try not to overthink why they summoned you today, especially with the children. What could be so urgent? Rafe’s grip tightens on the wheel, and you don’t miss the slight clench of his jaw.

He’s never been good at hiding his frustration, though he tries for your sake—sometimes. There’s a part of you that wonders if he’s bracing himself for whatever demands or expectations your parents are about to lay at your feet. You glance at the rearview mirror, catching sight of Madeline and Leo in the back, completely oblivious to the tension building in the front seat.

~

“You’re joking,” Rafe scoffs, his voice dripping with disbelief as he swirls the amber liquid in his glass, the ice clinking softly. He brings the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip of bourbon, his eyes narrowing at your parents across the grand dining room. You sit beside him, frozen in place, trying to process the words that had just shattered whatever illusion of calm you thought you’d have during this meeting.

It was bound to happen, but hearing it out loud felt like a punch to the gut. “They’re still children!” Rafe’s voice slices through the tension hanging in the room, his frustration flaring as he slams the glass onto the table, the sound reverberating through the ornate dining room. “And are we forgetting the fact that she’s still not born?” His hand gestures sharply toward your swollen belly, his anger spilling over as your hands instinctively cradle your stomach.

Rafe’s gaze is intense, his blue eyes flashing with a mixture of disbelief and fury. His jaw is clenched, the muscles tightening as he glares at your parents, the weight of their expectations pressing down on him, on both of you. The suffocating traditions of your family—arranged marriages, predetermined futures, heirs before individuals—were wearing on him, threatening to tear down the fragile balance you had both tried to maintain.

Your father leans back in his chair, unfazed by Rafe’s outburst, his expression as steely as ever. Your mother, ever poised, crosses her legs delicately, her cool composure only fueling the fire in Rafe’s gaze. They’ve seen this reaction before—yours, when you were told of your own arranged marriage. To them, this is just another step in the preservation of the family’s legacy, a legacy that had been woven into every decision, every expectation.

“Rafe, we understand your concerns,” your mother begins, her voice calm, like she’s explaining a simple business arrangement. “But this is not about today. This is about securing their future. She may not be born yet, but she, like her siblings, will have her place in this family, and part of that is ensuring they all have the right alliances.”

Rafe scoffs, running a hand through his hair, his frustration only building as he listens to their cold, calculated reasoning. He turns to you, his eyes searching your face, looking for something—anything—that shows you’re as disturbed by this conversation as he is. You meet his gaze, your hands still resting protectively over your stomach, feeling the soft flutter of movement inside you.

Part of you wants to agree with him, to speak up and tell your parents that this is madness. That your children deserve a choice, a chance at a life that isn’t dictated by contracts and old traditions. But the other part of you—the part that had been raised in this world, where duty and legacy are everything—knows this was always inevitable. It’s the same fate that was chosen for you.

Rafe’s voice lowers, but the anger remains. “You’re planning their futures before they can even speak for themselves. Do you realise how insane that sounds?” He turns back to your father, who has remained quiet throughout the exchange, observing Rafe’s reaction with a measured gaze. “Rafe,” your father finally says, his tone cool and authoritative, the kind that commands respect.

“This isn’t about insanity. It’s about responsibility. You, of all people, should understand the importance of that. Our families were built on these alliances, and your children will carry on that legacy.” Rafe leans back in his chair, exhaling harshly, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table as he tries to contain the frustration boiling inside him. He’s always hated this aspect of your family—the suffocating rules, the unspoken expectations that had shaped your life from the moment you were born.

Your mother’s expression was unreadable, though you know her well enough to catch the subtle lift of her chin—an indication that she expected this reaction from Rafe. “Y/n,” Rafe mutters, turning his head toward you, searching your face for any sign of how you were taking this, his blue eyes flickering with something close to desperation.

He’s waiting for you to speak up, to be the buffer between him and your parents, as you often are. You swallow hard, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Of course, you knew this day would come. In your world, in the world of dynasties and old money, these things were decided long before feelings or personal desires were even considered. Your children were not just your own; they were the future of two powerful families, and with that came the responsibility to uphold the tradition of arranged marriages.

It’s what had happened to you, after all. “Rafe, I understand that in your family, this may seem insane…” you begin, your voice steady, though your heart is pounding with the weight of the situation. Inside, a storm of conflicting emotions rages—your loyalty to your family’s legacy, the deep-rooted traditions you were raised with, and the growing sense that this isn’t the life you want for your children.

You glance at Rafe, watching as his anger simmers just beneath the surface, his fingers drumming impatiently against the side of his glass. “Oh this is more than insane and you know it, Y/n.” His eyes meet yours briefly, a flash of frustration and disbelief swirling in the blue depths. His family may be wealthy, even powerful in their own right, but they’ve never adhered to these kinds of traditions.

The antiquated practices your parents held onto with such ferocity were foreign to him, and every time they were brought up, it was like another layer of expectation was placed on his shoulders. You shift in your seat, trying to navigate the tightrope between the world you come from and the man beside you. “But in this family—your family now—this is what’s expected,” you continue, trying to keep your voice calm, even as your own doubts creep in.

“Our children’s futures are tied to these alliances. It’s not just about them, it’s about securing the family’s legacy.” Rafe’s jaw clenches visibly, his knuckles whitening around the glass as he sets it down with a little more force than necessary. “So what, they just get to be pawns in some game?” he snaps, his voice low but filled with restrained anger. “Is that all we are to them?”

You wince at his words, knowing that’s exactly how he sees it. It’s how you once saw it too. But you’d been trained your whole life to believe it was more than that—that it was a duty, a responsibility to the family. Yet, sitting here now, with your hands protectively over your stomach, the reality of arranging your own children’s marriages before they’ve even had the chance to live feels like a cruel twist of fate. One you never wanted to inflict on them.

Your father clears his throat, leaning forward slightly, his eyes sharp, watching the exchange closely. “Rafe,” he says, his voice measured, authoritative. “This isn’t a game. It’s about ensuring the stability of the family. The world we live in requires certain… arrangements. We all made sacrifices for this, and so will our children.”

Rafe shakes his head, leaning back in his chair, exhaling harshly as he runs a hand through his hair. “Sacrifices?” he mutters under his breath, his voice tinged with bitterness. He looks at you again, the plea in his eyes unmistakable. He’s desperate for you to push back, to stand with him against your parents and their rigid traditions.

But you hesitate, your gaze dropping to your stomach once more. How can you deny the truth of what your father is saying? You’ve lived it—your entire life has been shaped by these expectations. “I know it’s hard to understand,” you finally say, your voice softening as you turn back to Rafe.

“But it’s how things are done in this family. We have to think about the bigger picture.” Rafe’s eyes narrow, his frustration palpable. “And what about them?” he asks. “What about their lives, their choices? Are we just going to take that away from them before they even have a chance?” His words hit you hard, stirring something deep within you.

The idea of your children—your daughter, not yet born—being forced into the same mould you had been, fills you with a sense of dread. But the pull of your family’s expectations is strong, and breaking away from it feels impossible. You can already sense your mother’s disapproval, the way her gaze sharpens at Rafe’s defiance, as if he’s an outsider who doesn’t understand the way things work in your world.

Rafe’s eyes flash with frustration, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t care if that’s how it’s always been done,” he snaps, his voice rising slightly before he catches himself. “They’re not us, Y/n. They deserve more than this.” Your heart tightens at his words because a part of you knows he’s right. You glance at your parents, their expressions unchanged, as if they had heard these objections a thousand times before.

Your father’s gaze settles on Rafe with the kind of authority that comes from years of making decisions others are expected to follow. “We are not here to debate this, Rafe” your father says, his tone calm but firm. “This is about securing the future. Our future. Our children’s future.” Rafe lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he looks away, staring out the large windows behind your parents.

The sun is setting, casting a soft glow over the estate’s immaculate gardens, but the beauty of it is lost in the suffocating atmosphere inside. You know this conversation is far from over, and as Rafe’s hand curls into a fist on the table, you can’t help but wonder how much longer you can keep navigating this delicate balance between your family’s expectations and the life you want for your children.

“This is ridiculous,” Rafe mutters again, quieter now, his voice barely cutting through the heavy silence that lingers in the room. His fingers tap restlessly against the armrest, and just as you’re about to respond, the sound of doors swinging open pulls your attention. You turn to see Leo and Madeline barreling toward you, their shoes tapping against the polished floor, their laughter momentarily breaking the tension.

Behind them, the maid rushes in, her face flushed with worry as she tries to catch up. “I’m so sorry—” she starts, breathless, but before she can finish, Rafe stands abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping harshly against the floor. “It’s fine. We’re done here,” Rafe says, his voice firm as he looks at you, then shifts his gaze to your parents, making it clear that this conversation is over.

The weight of his decision hangs in the air, thick with unspoken words. As Madeline runs up to him, her small arms reaching for him to pick her up, Rafe’s features soften, if only for a moment, as he bends down to scoop her into his arms. You sigh quietly, exchanging a look with your mother, her expression unreadable but the disapproval still lingering in her eyes.

There’s a silent understanding between you—this conversation isn’t over, not really. You rise from your seat, your movements slow as you reach for Leo’s hand, his small fingers curling around yours. With one last glance at your parents, you follow Rafe out, the heavy door closing behind you with a finality that echoes in the pit of your stomach.

[hoe4hotchner]

Between Man and Dog [A.H]

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚘𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙺𝟿 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷.𝟹𝚔 𝙲𝚆: 𝚐𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜, 𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 (𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢), 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕. 𝙿𝚕𝚘𝚝: 𝙸𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙺𝟿 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍.

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           The sound of paws padding against the hardwood floor filled your apartment as Jaeger, your German Shepherd, trotted up beside you. He nudged his head into your hand, seeking the attention he knew you’d give him. Jaeger wasn’t just a work partner; he was your best friend, your constant companion - though that had become a bit more complicated ever since you started dating Aaron.

           You looked down at Jaeger, smiling at how content he was to just be near you after a long day of catching criminals. His large frame leaned into your leg, and despite his tough, disciplined nature on the job, he was a softy at heart. Except, of course, when it came to Aaron. As much as Jaeger respected him in passing, there was always a hint of protectiveness - and maybe a little jealousy - whenever Aaron was around especially when he was too close for Jaeger's liking.

           The door clicked open, and in walked Aaron, his familiar suit and tie a contrast to the more casual atmosphere of your home. As soon as Jaeger heard the door, his head perked up, ears alert. He didn’t bark - he knew Aaron's sounds and scent by now - but that didn’t stop him from moving in between you and your boyfriend, planting himself right at your side like a furry barricade of slobber and teeth.

           “Hey,” Aaron greeted, smiling as he made his way toward you, but his eyes flickered to Jaeger, already predicting what would happen next.

           “Hi,” you said warmly, stepping toward him.

           But before Aaron could get too close, Jaeger’s large head bumped against Aaron’s knee, guiding him ever so slightly away from you with an evident purpose. You stifled a laugh as Jaeger gave Aaron what could only be described as a disapproving look, sitting tall and proud like a bodyguard on high alert.

           Aaron sighed, though his lips tugged into a small smile. "Still jealous, huh, buddy?"

           You grinned, reaching down to ruffle Jaeger’s ears, before quickly leaning over the dog to place a peck on Aaron's lips. "I think he’s just making sure you’re treating me right. You know how he is." You winked.

           "Yeah," Aaron chuckled, shaking his head, "he makes it clear every time I get within five feet of you."

           You stepped closer to Aaron, finally closing the distance, and as you did, Jaeger gave a low huff as if to say, Alright, but I’m watching you. He didn’t budge from his spot, though, not until Aaron wrapped his arm around your waist.

           "See? It’s fine," you teased Jaeger, giving him a playful nudge with your foot. "You can let him stay."

           Jaeger merely grumbled in response, his dark eyes watching Aaron like a hawk. But despite his antics, there was no real malice - just a big, protective dog who wasn’t quite ready to share his favorite person with anyone else.

           The next day, you were called out on a case with the unit. Jaeger was in his element, moving through the wooded area of a local park with precision, sniffing out a trail as part of his search. You were focused, keeping a steady pace behind him as he worked, your hand gripping the leash guiding him with confidence and familiarity.

           What you didn’t expect was to see Aaron and the rest of the BAU team show up on the scene as you emerged from the woods. You hadn’t realized your units would be working together today.

           Aaron spotted you almost immediately, his brow raising in mild surprise before his usual expression returned. "I didn’t know you were working today," he said as he approached, walking up alongside you.

           "Surprise," you replied with a small smile, but before you could say anything else, Jaeger’s head snapped up, recognizing Aaron.

           And, as if on cue, the German Shepherd made a low growl and planted himself right in front of Aaron, effectively blocking his path. It was the same routine as always - Jaeger asserting his territory, reminding Aaron that he was still the alpha in this dynamic. And that you were his, not Aaron's.

           Aaron chuckled under his breath, clearly amused. "Good to see you too, Jaeger."

           Jaeger, the most stubborn protector, merely stared at him, his tail flicking with just enough attitude to make his disapproval known.

           "Sorry," you said, shaking your head with a laugh. "He still thinks you’re up to something."

           Aaron gave a small smile, though he kept his distance, clearly knowing better than to test Jaeger’s boundaries at the moment. Especially when he was working "I’ll win him over one day."

           You raised a brow, a teasing grin spreading across your face. "Good luck with that, Hotchner."

           The case was moving along, but so did the tension. Aaron, along with a few other agents, had gone deeper into the woods after narrowing down a lead from one of the civilians. You were nearby with Jaeger, keeping your distance but ready to move if needed. The situation was dangerous - there was a suspect, armed and unpredictable, kidnapping children left and right. Everyone was tense as the clock ticked closer and closer to what inevitably would be a hard conversation to have with the victim's parents.

           As you waited, keeping an eye on your surroundings, a sudden crack rang out through the trees - the sound of a gunshot. Your heart dropped. In a moment of weakness you forgot to direct Jaeger and the moment the sound hit, his instincts took over.

           Before you could stop him, Jaeger jerked forward, pulling the leash out of your hands in one swift motion. You stumbled, calling after him, but it was too late - he was already running straight toward the sound.

           "Jaeger, no!" you shouted, scrambling to your feet as you ran after him.

           Jaeger sprinted ahead, his powerful body moving with purpose as he rushed toward where Aaron had gone. Your heart raced, panic bubbling in your chest as you realized what was happening. Jaeger was going after Aaron, and not to protect you this time, but to protect him.

           By the time you reached the clearing, you saw it - the suspect was down, disarmed by Aaron, but he hadn’t been alone. Another figure had appeared from behind the trees, aiming a gun straight at Aaron.

           But Jaeger was faster. With an intense, determined bark, Jaeger lunged forward, knocking the gunman off his feet and sending the weapon flying. In one smooth motion, Jaeger stood over him, growling and barking, his teeth bared as he held the man in place.

           Aaron was stunned but otherwise unharmed as he looked at Jaeger with wide eyes, the realization of what had just happened sinking in.

           You rushed forward, out of breath but relieved beyond words. "Jaeger, heel," you called, Jaeger backed off immediately, though he kept a watchful eye on the man beneath him, low rumbles still emerging from his throat.

           Aaron stood up, dusting himself off as he glanced at Jaeger, then at you. "Well... that was new."

           You couldn’t help but laugh, though it was tinged with relief. "Yeah, looks like Jaeger finally decided you were worth keeping."

           Aaron’s expression softened as he looked at Jaeger, who, for the first time, wasn’t glaring at him with suspicion but rather like he was saying, You’re alright now.

           With a small smile, Aaron knelt down, extending a hand toward Jaeger. "Good boy." He grinned.

           Jaeger hesitated for a moment, then, with a low, yet affectionate rumble in his chest, he stepped forward, nudging Aaron’s hand with his nose.

           You smiled, shaking your head in disbelief. "Guess you’re finally friends."

           Aaron stood up, giving Jaeger one final pat before turning to you. "Looks like I owe him one." Jaeger wagged his tail as if to say, Yeah, you do.

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[prxncezz]

Can I rec something similar as "Good Girl For You," whereas reader is giving ethan a bj while chad tries to talk to ethan through the locked door?

Only if u want ofc, ty

study buddy

Pairing: Sub!Ethan, Dom!Reader

Summary: Y/N gives Ethan his first blowjob, but of course, Chad interrupts.

Contains: smut [mdni], oral [m receiving], no actual p in v, praising, corruption kink if you squint, fem specific terms. Lmk if I missed any!

An: I wasn't sure if you wanted Ethan as the sub or dom in this, but if you wanted Ethan to be a dom, then lmk, and I'll gladly remake it! Also, lmk if you wanna be in the taglist.

Ethan was absolutely obsessed with you.

He had been since the first day you met, and it never crossed his mind that he had a chance with you. He automatically assumed he didn't, considering he was a nerd who kept his nose shoved in books and his homework, but unbeknownst to him, you were actually fond of that very type.

You enjoyed teasing him, giving him signals, and flirting with him without making it too obvious.

It was so fun to toy with him. You couldn't help it. You were addicted to the look on his face when he got all flustered and shy.

But finally, finally, you were in his dorm room to "study."

Little did he know that you weren't planning on studying the entire time. You tried to give him subtle hints like caressing his shoulder or scooting a little closer to him, but he didn't catch onto any of them.

"Ethan," you sighed impatiently, pulling Ethan from the page he was explaining to you.

"Yeah?" His head perked up, his innocent doe eyes looking into yours.

"I was thinking about taking a break. Maybe we could... I don't know... relax?"

"Relax?" He repeated, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. God, he was so oblivious to your hints.

He never picked up on them. Ever. For a moment, you doubted his interest in you, but you skimmed past that possibility quickly since you always had such a great effect on him when you used your charms.

So what could it be? What was holding him back from making a move?

You grew impatient, and you finally realized that you might have to make the first move on your own.

"Yeah, relax." You traced your finger from his collar down to the center of his chest before your eyes flickered to his, his cheeks and nose bright pink.

"And how would we do that?" He adjusted his hips, making you want to grab his face and kiss him right then.

He was so unbelievably cute, it was ridiculous.

"I think I might have an idea," you whispered, flashing him a smirk before shuffling down and kneeling between his legs.

His breath hitched, and his face turned pinker, obviously liking the attention you were giving him.

“Y/N…?” he squeaked, his breath quickening as your hands slowly slid up his thighs.

“Is this okay, Ethan? Do you want me to stop?” You asked softly, your hands stopped about two inches away from his zipper.

"N-No, it’s not that," he said, swallowing thickly. “I just…. i’ve never….” He trailed off, looking at you expectantly. He couldn’t even finish the sentence. He was a college student and he still hadn’t had sex yet.

“That’s okay, sweetie, i’ll go easy on you,” You purr, your right hand inching upward before palming his very obvious bulge.

He let out a strangled whimper, his eyes screwing shut at your touch through his jeans.

“Can i take these off, Eth?” You whisper, continuing to palm him through his jeans. He nodded mindlessly. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment.

You unzipped his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles before wrapping your fingers around the band of his boxers. You pulled them down aswell, his pretty cock springing up and leaking an embarrassing amount of precum.

“Is it okay if i touch you?” You ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes. The last thing you wanted to do was make an innocent boy uncomfortable.

He nodded, giving you a small ‘uhuh’ as he looked down at you. His cock twitched. He had the biggest crush on you for the longest time, he was surprised you hadn’t confronted him about it before.

You wrapped a hand around his base, kissing his pink, leaking tip. He whimpered, his cock giving a small, cute twitch.

Your tongue flattened on the underside of his tip, the most sensitive part of his cock. He let out a small, strangled moan. He pressed his lips together, embarrassed by the sounds leaving him.

You swirled your tongue around his tip before taking his cock in your throat.

"F-fuck, Y/N, p-please.." He gasped. "S-slow down.."

*You did, bringing your lips up a little to about two-thirds down his cock. He breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath. He gave you a small nod and you inch ethan down your throat a little slower than before.

He lets out muffled moans as your hands rest on his thighs, your manicured nails soothingly trialing up and down his skin.

You bob your head up and down a little faster, watching his face contort in pleasure. His hips involuntarily rutted into your throat. You hummed around his cock, causing him to shiver and moan.

“H-holy shit, i’m s-sorry, couldn’t help it,” He babbles. He’s cut off by a moan as you take him a little faster. His doe eyes roll to the back of his head, his mouth falling open with pleasure.

Your tongue swirled around his tip which made him whimper loudly.

His mouth hung open as broken moans escaped his lips, followed with fuck fuck fuck fuck's and oh shit, pleass!

"Y/N... fuck!" He whimpered and whined as his breaths became shallow. It had only been a couple of minutes and you child tell He was close.

“Are you close, baby?" You smirk and swirl your tongue around his reddened tip. All he could do was moan and nod, his hips bucking off the mattress, desperately searching for relief.

You came to a halt, removing your mouth from his cock as Chad called Ethan’s name, the sound of keys being tossed on the counter following soon after.

“Ethan?” Chad called again, footsteps approaching Ethan’s room. He knocked on the door and ethan’s head fell toward, a frustrated groan leaving his lips.

“Yeah?” He called back, trying to remember if one of you locked the door beforehand.

“I asked if you wanted some pizza, i was planning on ordering some,” He calls from outside the door.

You had a small idea, leaning forward and licking ethan’s tip.

“Uh y- oh fuck…” Ethan moaned. “Yeah that’s f-fine,” Chad paused for a moment, probably hearing ethan’s noises.

“What’s going on in there, dude…?” He asked, obviously a little suspicious. Your hand stroked Ethan’s cock quickly, mouth on his tip and your free hand on his thigh. You swirled your tongue around his tip, his moans growing breathier and higher pitched as he gets closer to his orgasm.

Ethan whimpered, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Y-yea everything’s fine,” Ethan breathed out, his head falling back.

You took him all the way down your throat and that’s all it took, Ethan moaning your name as he cums violently down your throat, whining softly.

“Umm… okay…?” He says, walking away. You smirk up at Ethan, who bites his lip.

“We almost got caught,” He whispers.

“So?” You chuckled, furrowing your brows. “I don’t think chad will get mad, he has girls over all the time.”

“No, i know, but… i didn’t think you’d want anybody to know that…” He trails off. you smile softly.

“You’re too cute. You don’t think i want people to know about whatever this turns into?” You tilted your head. He shrugged shyly. He was suddenly very aware that he had his cock out and blood rushed to his cheeks. “You’re smart, Ethan, but sometimes you can be a little stupid.”

should i make a part 2???

Taglist:

@l0s3r-natilye @nowitsmissing

[thedilfdiaries]

Divide my legs like a mathematician

Dbf!Joel x virgin!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 4K

Summary: you find yourself drawn to Joel's confidence and charm, unable to resist the forbidden fruit. After sharing an intimate moment by the pool, you're left feeling both guilty and exhilarated, eager for more.

Warnings: 18+, virginity loss, reader has first kiss, age gap (reader is early 20's and Joel is however old you need him to be.) Reader has hair and breasts, and wears a bikini, unprotected p in v, m&f oral receiving, fingering, Joel comes twice. Joel, being a typical middle-aged man, saying "you know.."

Notes: please do not read if this kind of dynamic or situation is offputting or something you do not like or enjoy or object to. Please be responsible for yourself and your fic reading. Love you bye 💝 and don't ask about the title unless you wanna hear and see something weird 😂

The sun beats down relentlessly, its fiery rays reflecting off the shimmering surface of the pool. You've sought refuge by its side, lying on a vibrant, floral towel, your swimsuit clinging to your skin. Your eyes flutter closed, and you breathe in the scent of chlorine and sunscreen, letting the warmth of the day lull you into a state of peaceful relaxation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a shadow eclipsing the sun. You squint up, the brightness giving way to the familiar face of Joel Miller, your dad's old buddy. The one you haven't seen in a few years.

His salt-and-pepper hair, flecked with silver, is styled in a casual yet purposeful way. His muscular build is evident through his t-shirt and swim trunks. Joel's eyes, a stunning shade of chocolate brown, crinkle at the corners as he turns his attention to you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, well, who do we have here?" he asks, his gaze sweeping over your body in a way that makes you feel a bit nervous.

You shield your eyes from the sun with your hand before you reply, "Hey Joel, my dad's not here. He had to run some errands."

Joel chuckles, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, good thing you're here to keep me company while I wait for him.”

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the heat that rises to your face. "I'm not here to entertain you," you say, trying to sound stern.

Joel chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You know you've sure grown up since I last saw ya, more beautiful than ever."

You can't help but feel a little flattered by his words, even if you try to hide it. You've always had a bit of a crush on Joel, but you know that he's off-limits, the forbidden fruit. He's your dad's friend, and he's much older than you. You've never even had a boyfriend, but there's something about him that you find irresistible. Maybe it's his confidence, or his sense of humor, or the way he makes you feel when he looks at you. Whatever it is, you can't help but be drawn to him.

You try to play it cool. "Oh, please, you're just saying that because you feel awkward being alone with me and you're trying to be nice."

"Maybe, maybe not," he admits. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're beautiful."

You feel your heart flutter at the way the word rolls off his tongue, but you try to hide your reaction. "Prove it," you say, challenging him.

Joel raises an eyebrow, chuckling. "Prove it?" he repeats. "How do you propose I do that?"

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant. "I dunno, race me to the other side of the pool, maybe?"

Joel's laughter rings out, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief as he accepts the challenge. "You're on.” With a swift and fluid motion, he peels off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and arms. The garment lands carelessly on a nearby chair, but you barely notice as your gaze follows the contours of his physique. You notice how broad he is and how beautiful in return you think he is.

Joel dives into the pool, cutting through the water with surprising grace and agility. The splash startles you, breaking your reverie, and you take a deep breath diving into the pool swimming as fast as you can towards the other side of the pool.

The cool water feels refreshing against your skin, but you're determined to win the race. You swim with all your might, your legs kicking furiously behind you. But despite your best efforts, Joel reaches the other side just before you do.

You come up for air, panting slightly, and Joel grins at you. "I win."

You stick your tongue out at him. "Fine, you win," you concede. "But that doesn't mean you're right about me being beautiful."

Joel's expression softens, and he looks at you with a seriousness that takes you by surprise. "You know darlin, I'm not just sayin' it to flatter you," he says as he gets out of the pool and then helps you out. "I've always thought you were beautiful. But now, you're all grown up, and I can't help but notice the way you move, the way you challenge me, it's all so - intoxicating."

His words make you feel self-conscious, but also excited. You've never had anyone talk to you like this before, and it's both scary and thrilling.

Joel notices your reaction and takes a step closer to you. "I know this is unexpected, and maybe even a little inappropriate," he says. "But, I can't help the way I feel. And I think you feel it too, don'tcha darlin?”

"I-I don't know," you stammer.

Joel's expression softens, and he reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. "It's okay, take your time. I'm not goin’ anywhere." You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You've never felt this way before, and you're not sure what to do. "It's okay," he repeats. "I know it’s a lot to take in.” Joel moves so his body mere inches away from yours. "You ever done anythin' before, you got a boyfriend?”

You pause, feeling the air get tense. You can't believe how abrupt he is to just ask like this. You shake your head, feeling a bit ashamed you've never even kissed a boy before, let alone have a boyfriend.

Joel can see the uncertainty in your eyes, but he also sees curiosity and desire. He takes a deep breath, and his eyes never leave yours. "You know, I can teach you how to please a man, how to be pleasured. I wanna make sure that when you do decide to be with someone, you're not so inexperienced."

Your eyes flitter around, never fully meeting Joel's gaze. "I dunno I've never done anything like this before," you admit.

Joel's expression softens, and he reaches out to gently take your hand. "I know babygirl," he says. "And I'm not going to push you into anything. But I want you to know that I'm here for you, if you want me to be."

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You know that what Joel is suggesting is wrong, but you can't help feeling like a snake, trying to convince yourself to take a bite of the juiciest looking apple you’ve ever seen. He's always been so helpful, and now that he's offering to show you the ways of intimacy, you can't help but be tempted. You really don't want to be so inexperienced when it's your real first time. "I want you to teach me Joel," you whisper.

Joel's face lights up, "I promise to make this a learning experience for you, somethin’ you'll never forget."

He takes your hand and leads you to a secluded spot by the pool, sits down on the grass, and pulls you down next to him. "First things first, let's start with the basics. You ever touch yourself?"

You shake your head, feeling yourself fill with embarrassment.

"S'okay," he says. "This is all new to you. Just do what I do, okay?"

He takes your hand and guides it to your bottoms, helping you to slip your fingers under the fabric. You can feel the heat radiating from your core, and you gasp as Joel's and your fingers brush against your clit.

"Just relax," he says, his voice soothing. "S’all about pleasure."

As you continue to touch yourself, you can feel something building inside of you. It's a strange, unfamiliar sensation, but it's also incredibly pleasurable. You moan softly as Joel continues to guide your hand, his lips close to your ear.

"That's it," he murmurs, his lips close to your ear. "Just relax and enjoy the sensation." You can feel the heat radiating from your core, and you can feel your body tensing as you get closer and closer to your first orgasm. Joel can sense this too, and he places a hand on your belly, feeling each jolt and tremor as it passes through you.

"Just let go, baby," he whispers. "I've got you. You're safe."

But suddenly, you pull your hand away, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"I can't," you say, your voice shaking. "It feels too weird."

Joel can see the look of fear and uncertainty in your eyes, and he pulls you against his chest.

"Yes, you can, I promise," he says, his voice soothing and reassuring. "Just let yourself feel the pleasure. Let me help you, baby. Tell me what you're feeling, baby," he says, his voice gentle and coaxing. "What does it feel like when I touch you like this?" He starts rubbing circles on your clit again.

You take a deep breath, trying to put your feelings into words. "It feels...good," you say, your voice hesitant. "But it's also scary. I've never done this before."

"I know, baby," Joel coos. "But there's nothing to be afraid of. I'm here with you, and I'll never let anything bad happen to you."

Joel can see that you need a different approach, something that will help you to relax and let go of your inhibitions.

He pulls away from you, his eyes meeting yours. "Let's try something a little different," he says with a gentle voice. Before you can protest, Joel is moving down your body, his lips pressing gentle kisses against your skin. When he reaches your thighs he gently guides them further apart, leaving kisses all the way until he reaches your swimsuit bottoms, he pulls them to the side, exposing your clit. You gasp as you feel his tongue flick against your clit, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"Just relax," Joel murmurs, his voice soothing. "Let me show you how good this can feel."

He continues to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers slipping inside of you to stroke your G-spot. You can feel pleasure building inside of you, more intense than anything you've ever felt before.

"Yes, just like that," Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let go, babygirl. Let yourself feel it."

And suddenly, you do. The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, so intense that you can barely breathe. You cry out whatever vowels and constants your brain can, and your body shakes with the force of it. Joel doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers continuing to work their magic. Another orgasm builds inside of you, even more intense than the first. You can feel yourself on the edge, your body trembling with pleasure.

"Come on, babygirl, come again, such a good girl."

And you do. This orgasm tears through you like a lightning bolt, so intense that you see stars behind your closed eyes.

Finally, the orgasm subsides, and you collapse back onto the grass, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Joel moves beside you, his arms wrapped around you as he holds you close to his body.

"How do you feel?" he murmurs, his lips close to your ear.

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "I feel...amazing," you say, quietly.

Joel smiles, his eyes meeting yours. "I'm glad," he says. "That's exactly how I wanted you to feel." Joel's expression is gentle as he looks at you, gauging your reaction. He then reaches down and slowly starts to undo the drawstring of his swim trunks. "You ever seen a cock before?"

You shake your head, feeling a mix of curiosity and nervousness. Joel seems to sense your apprehension, and he takes his time as he pulls down his swim trunks, revealing his erect length. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight before you, the way the sunlight dances off his smooth, taut skin, the way the veins protrude just slightly, creating a roadmap. Your gaze drifts down to the base, where the same salt and peppered hair that graces his head dusts his pelvis. Joel gives you a moment to take it all in before speaking again, his voice barely above a whisper, "Do you wanna touch it?" The question hangs in the air.

You nod, feeling a surge of excitement and curiosity. Joel's hand finds yours, guiding it towards his stiffening cock. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. As you wrap your fingers around his shaft, you marvel at the weight and firmness of it in your hand.

"Mmm, that feels so good," Joel moans, his eyes fluttering closed as he relaxes into your touch.

Encouraged by his reaction, you begin to explore his cock more fully. You stroke your hand up and down its length, feeling it twitch and throb beneath your fingertips. Joel helps guide your movements, his hand covering yours as he shows you the rhythm he likes best.

"Tighten your grip a little... yeah, just like that," he murmurs, his breath hitching as you increase the pressure. Joel's moans become louder and more frequent, and you can feel him grow even harder in your hand. It takes no time at all for Joel to reach his peak.

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna come," Joel gasps, his hips thrusting forward.

You pull your hand away, unsure of what to do. Joel opens his eyes and looks at you. You look like a deer in headlights, and the sight almost makes him come without help. "It's okay, baby," he says with a gentle voice. "You don't have to do anything. Just wanted to give you an idea of what it feels like, what it looks like, what it tastes like," he says softly, "But, if you're curious, I can show you how to pleasure a man with your mouth."

You nod, your curiosity getting the better of you. "I want to, I wanna learn."

Joel smiles, his eyes softening. "Okay, just remember to take it slow. There's no rush."

Joel takes your hand and guides it down to his cock, which is already rock-hard and pulsing with desire. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and you're eager to explore him further. With a gentle nudge, he encourages you to take him into your mouth.

At first, you're hesitant. You've never done this before, and you're not sure what to do. But Joel is patient and kind, gently stroking your hair and murmuring words of encouragement.

"That's it, baby," he whispers. "Just relax and take your time. Mmm, yeah, just like that."

Emboldened by his words, you begin to explore him more fully. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. Joel lets out a low moan of pleasure, and you can feel his hips bucking up towards you.

Encouraged you take him deeper into your mouth. You suck harder, your cheeks hollowing out as you work him over. Joel's moans grow louder and more frequent. Suddenly, he grabs a handful of your hair, guiding your head up and down in a steady rhythm.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come," he gasps, his voice tight with pleasure.

You pull back, letting his cock slip out of your mouth with a wet pop. Joel opens his eyes and looks at you, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Keep goin’ like you were, just swallow if you can, it's natural."

Joel's eyes flutter closed as he helps guide your head back down to his cock, savoring the feeling of him growing hard in your mouth once more. You wrap your lips around him, taking him in slowly, and begin to move your head in a gentle rhythm. Joel's breathing grows heavy as he lets out a low moan, his fingers finding their way into your hair.

You can feel him tensing up, and then, with a shudder, he comes, filling your mouth with warmth. The taste is strange and unfamiliar, but you swallow, determined to please him. You pull your mouth away from him quickly, probably a little too quickly. "Joel," you say, your voice hesitant as you look over at him, catching his breath. "Can we... do it?"

Joel looks at you, his expression serious. "Do what, babygirl?" he asks, puffing out a response through caught breathes even though he knows what you're asking.

"You know...have sex," you whisper.

Joel's eyes widen, and he looks at you with a mix of surprise and desire. "Baby, I just came," he says, his voice gentle. "Let me catch my breath for a bit, and then we can figure somethin' out."

Joel's eyes meet yours, and he can see the slight hint of disappointment in them. But he understands, and he takes your face gently in his hands, leaning in close so that his mouth is almost touching yours. "Don't worry, babygirl," he says, his voice soft and soothing. "I'll make it worth your while." You can feel your heart flutter at his words, and you can't help but smile. Joel's breathing begins to return to normal, and he pulls back slightly, looking at you with a serious expression. "I think I have a couple of ideas," he says. "But, it's gonna take some effort on both our parts."

You nod, eager to please him and experience more of the pleasure he's shown you.

Joel takes a deep breath, looking at you with a serious expression. "I want you to take your top off."

You look at him in surprise, your hands instinctively going to cover your chest. "What? Why?" You ask, your voice hesitant.

Joel reaches out to take your hands in his, his eyes meeting yours. "Because it's a natural part of a woman's body, and it's one of the things that turns me on the most," he explains. "And I want to be able to pleasure you fully, without any barriers between us."

You bite your lower lip, you've never been naked in front of anyone before, and the thought of doing so with Joel is both terrifying and thrilling. But you trust him, and you want to please him. Taking a deep breath, you nod your head, signaling your agreement. Joel's eyes softened as he smiled, his hands moving to gently guide you onto his lap. You feel a flutter in your stomach as you straddle him, your thighs brushing against his. His fingers deftly undo the knot that holds your bikini top in place, and the fabric falls away, leaving your breasts exposed to the warm summer air. You feel a shiver run down your spine, your nipples hardening in response to the exposure.

Joel's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your bare chest, his breath hitching in his throat.

"Mmm, so perfect baby.” Before you can respond, Joel leans in, his mouth capturing one of your nipples. You gasp at the sensation, your hands instinctively going to his hair as he sucks and licks at your breast. Joel's hands come up to cup your other breast, his fingers teasing your nipple. You had never felt anything like this before, the sensation of his mouth on your breast, his hands caressing your body. It's intoxicating.

Joel's hands start to wander down your body, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. He reaches your bikini bottoms, and you can feel him tugging at the fabric. "Lift up for me, baby,"

You do as he asks, lifting your hips off the ground as he pulls your bikini bottoms down your legs. You're completely naked now, exposed to Joel's gaze, but instead of feeling embarrassed, you feel a thrill run through your body. Joel's eyes are dark with desire as he takes in the sight of your bare body.

"Fuck, babygirl, you are so damn delicious," his hands reach out to touch you. He runs his fingers along your inner thighs, teasing you. "Spread your legs for me, baby, nice and wide," he says, his voice low and commanding.

You comply, spreading your legs apart.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "You have no idea how fucking sexy you are, do you? I've been dreaming about this for years, imagining what it would be like to touch you, to taste you."

You gasp as Joel's hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. "You're so wet," he growls, his fingers circling your clit in slow, deliberate movements. "I can feel how much you want me, how much you need me. You think you're ready, baby?"

You nod, feeling a surge of excitement and nervousness. Joel moves between your legs, his body hovering over yours. He looks into your eyes, searching for any signs of doubt or hesitation.

"If you want to stop at any time, just tell me," he says. "I won't be upset."

You nod and shyly say, “I'm ready.”

Joel positions himself at your entrance, his tip pressing gently against your opening. He looks into your eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort or fear. "Just breathe, babygirl," his voice soothes you a bit. "It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise it'll feel good real soon."

You nod, taking a deep breath as Joel starts to push inside of you. You feel a sharp pain as he breaks through your barrier, and you can't help but gasp at the sensation. “Ah, Joel, it hurts," you whimper, your eyes watering.

Joel curses under his breath, his eyes filled with concern. "I'm sorry, babygirl," he says, his voice gentle. "I know, I know, I gotcha.” He continues to move slowly, giving your body time to adjust to the intrusion. You can feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, and you can't help but wince at the discomfort. Joel leans down, almost kissing you, his lips soft and gentle against yours. "It's okay, babygirl," he murmurs. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

As he continues to move, the pain starts to fade, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar sensation. It's not entirely unpleasant, but it's not exactly comfortable either. Joel seems to sense your confusion, and he starts to move his hips in a slow, circular motion. "Feel that, babygirl?" he touches your lower belly where you can feel his cock hitting. "That's your body gettin’ used to me. It's gonna feel good soon, I promise."

And he's right. As he continues to move, the sensation begins to shift, becoming something more pleasurable. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to Joel's movements. "That's it, babygirl," Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let yourself feel it. Let yourself feel me."

He starts to move faster, his hips thrusting harder against yours. You think you can feel yourself getting closer to another orgasm and Joel can sense it too. "You like that, babygirl? You like feeling my cock inside of you? You like feeling me stretch you open, fill you up?"

You nod, a small whimper coming from the back of your throat.

"Good," he breathes, pushing his hips deeper into yours, the friction making him groan. "Tell me when you're gonna come, sweetheart."

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I-I'm gonna come," you gasp.

Joel's eyes widen, and he nods, his hips thrusting harder against yours. "Come for me, babygirl," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "Come on my cock."

The orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, so powerful that it feels like every nerve in your body is firing at once. You can't help but cry out, a loud, primal sound that probably alerts everyone in close proximity to what's happening. Your body convulses with pleasure, every muscle tensing and then releasing as waves of ecstasy wash over you.

Joel's thrusts become more erratic, his hips slamming against yours with a fierce urgency as he chases his own release. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps, each one hot and moist against your ear. "Fuck, babygirl," he groans. "I'm so close. I'm gonna come too." You can feel him throbbing inside of you, each pulse of his cock sending another shiver of pleasure through your body. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper inside of you, wanting to feel every inch of him as he fills you up with his warmth.

And then he's there, his body tensing as he reaches his own peak. "Fuck, babygirl," he groans. "Oh fuck!" He collapses on top of you, his breath hot and heavy against your neck.

You can feel his heart pounding against your chest. For a moment, neither of you say anything, both of you too caught up in the afterglow of what just happened.

Finally, Joel lifts his head, looking down at you with a mixture of awe and desire. "Fuck, babygirl," he murmurs, his voice still low and husky. "That was...incredible."

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a surge of affection and gratitude. "Thank you," you whisper into his ear as you instinctively start stroking his hair.

Joel looks up at you, "What are you thankin’ me for?"

You feel a mix of embarrassment and shyness. "For showing me how good it can feel."

Joel smiles. "You're welcome, baby girl. I'm glad I could be the one to show you." He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a soft, gentle kiss. You can feel yourself getting lost in the moment, in the feeling of Joel's lips on yours, in the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

Your first kiss.

But all too soon, the bliss comes to an end. Joel pulls away, his eyes meeting yours. "I better get goin'," he says. "Your dad will be back soon."

You nod, feeling a surge of disappointment. "Okay," you say kinda pouty.

Joel smirks and lifts your chin in his hand so you're looking at him. "Don't look so sad, babygirl," he says, his voice gentle. "This is just the beginning. I promise to show you so much more."

With that, he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead and he gets up, putting his swim trunks back on. You watch as he walks away, your heart heavy in your chest. You know that what just happened was wrong, that it's not something that should have happened. But you can't help the way you feel, the way your body responds to Joel's touch. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You know that you should feel guilty, that you should be ashamed of what just happened. But all you can feel is a sense of excitement, of anticipation. You know that this is just the beginning.

And you can't wait.

[haikyu-mp4]

Repetitive routine

Your son's bedtime routine with dad Kita, for my Parenting event<3

requested by @stellar-headquarters. word count; 519 – gn!reader

“Why do I have to brush my teeth every day, can’t I just skip this one?” the young boy whined, staring angrily at his toothbrush in the cup by the bathroom mirror. Kita stood beside him, already well on the way to brushing his teeth.

“We have a routine. If we brush our teeth every day, we’re less likely to get cavities. It’s a good routine,” his dad answered easily. His son already knew that would be the answer and squeezed out some toothpaste to start brushing.

“But it’s so boring,” he answered, slightly muffled by his toothbrush. The duo were dressed in matching checkered pyjamas, the boy still with slightly damp hair.

As Kita noticed this, he picked up a comb from the counter, letting his toothbrush hang from his lips as he smoothed out his son’s hair. “If you complain less, you might finish it quicker,” he said with a small smile.

Surprisingly, the boy swatted the comb away and kept brushing his teeth. “We do hair after teeth. That’s the routine, Dad.”

And if Kita felt slightly choked up, could you blame him? Hearing literal proof that this is his son, and still seeing the stubborn pout on his lips that so obviously came from you. “You’re right, buddy.”

You were already putting away some toys in your son’s bedroom when he came from the bathroom. He smiled sleepily, and you opened your arms with the sudden need to squish him. He walked into your embrace and groaned as you hugged him, before leaning back and seeing a little toothpaste stain by his mouth. Licking your thumb, you rubbed it off despite his complaints.

“Ready for bed?” you asked rhetorically because the sleepy face he wore was already a clear indicator. And yet-

“Can’t I stay up for just a little more to play?” he asked, putting on the puppy eyes. You weren’t sure who he got those from, but you almost felt sorry for Kita if they came from you. They sure were powerful.

“You have your first volleyball practice tomorrow, little fox. You’ll be so tired if you don’t sleep now,” you cooed, letting him go to fluff up his duvet so he could get in.

“Hey, now.” You heard a darker voice behind you and then a squeal, turning around to see Kita had picked your son up and tickled his sides. “We have to take care of ourselves to do well.”

You pursed your lips when you saw your son holding up his hand and gesturing like a bird talking in playful mockery of his father. It would undermine Kita’s parenting if you laughed, but gosh did this adorable boy make it difficult.

“Bedtime, let’s go.” And when your son was finally under his duvet, quickly dozing off after giving Kita an unnecessary recap of how he imagined tomorrow’s practice would go, you and Kita made your way to the living room.

“Am I really that repetitive?” Kita asked with a hint of humour in his voice.

You giggled, kissing his cheek. “He’ll thank you one day, that’s what we’re here for.”

masterlist

for the requester: the baby fever is so real, I totally get u<3

[1-800reki]

❝Saiki's What?!❞

Pairing: Kusuo Saiki x GN reader!!

Summary: When you go on a date there are some.. uninvited visitors.

'Gyatt!' ← Thoughts!

"Gyatt" ← Speaking!

'Gyatt!' ← Saiki's thoughts!

"Gyatt!" ← Saiki speaking!

'Good grief'

Kusuo thought as he heard the thoughts of the people he considered 'nuisances.' He really didn't want them to ruin your average perfect date. "Kusuo? What's wrong?" You ask him with a tilt of your head. You both were sitting at Cafe Mami on a date. You don't go to PK Academy since you're homeschooled. You do live next to Kusuo and were childhood friends which led to you dating.

He never introduced you to any of his classmates as he said they would infect you with their stupidity. Of course, you found that to be an exaggeration. They couldn't be that bad.. right? "It's nothing don't worry about it." He said to you telepathically. You know he has powers and he's grateful you've kept your mouth shut about them. You make him feel happy and normal. Like he's just Kusuo Saiki. Not a physic.

"If you say so.." You say with a suspicious tone of voice. To Saiki, you were a bit.. energetic at times but even with that, you're totally average! He's amazed by it! That's why he fell in love with you in the first place. "A blue-haired girl and some other teenagers are staring at you.." You whisper to him noticing the people staring at Saiki. Saiki groaned internally. He had really hoped that they wouldn't find out but they did.

The group consisted of Nendou, Kaidou, Aren, Chiyo and Teruhashi. They had seen Saiki's pink hair through the window and wanted to join him. What they didn't know was that he was on a date. Nendou just smiled and walked over. He was happy his buddy was with somebody! "Hey, buddy! Who's this?" He asked curiously. Kaidou and Aren followed behind him. They both wanted to know as well.

"Hi! I'm Y/n L/n! And I'm his.." You pause in the middle of the sentence not sure if Saiki wants you to say you were his partner or not. He gave you a subtle nod before you smiled and continued. "I'm his partner!" You finish with a small smile. Nendou smiled happy that his buddy got a partner, Kaidou and Aren looked sort of shocked that Saiki had a secret partner, Teruhashi looked the most surprised but kept a facade and Chiyo just looked happy to meet you.

"Yes, they are, and we're on a date. We would appreciate it if you didn't bother us." Saiki said to them telepathically. Nendou for once got the hint and led the rest of the group out of the cafe. Even though they left Saiki could hear one thought in all of their minds except Nendou of course. That one thought they had was 'Saiki's what?!'

a/n: I got lazy...

[lunalunelover]

smoke session with nicho

warnings and content : afab fem reader, soft dom nicholas, switchy sub afab fem reader, weed consumption, use of “good girl” and “sir”, thigh riding, handjob, unprotected sex (don't do that lol), creampie, fingering, oral (reader receiving), and cum eating

word count: ~4k

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Ever since Nicholas found out that you smoked weed he’s been dropping hints about wanting to smoke with you every time you hang out. Today, after a long day of classes, and finally a weekend of nothing in particular planned you decide to finally bite and ask him over.

While going to grab your stash and pink rolling paper from your desk drawer you hear your phone ping and light up with a “here :p” text from Nicho. 

“Hey!” He greets with that cheeky little grin of his, leaning down to give you a quick hug before you step aside and let him into your apartment. 

It’s small, nothing too crazy since you’re living on your own, and a little dingy appliances wise but you were lucky enough to get cheap rent from a landlord who didn’t care if you stank up the hallway a few times a week with your solo “decompression time” so you didn’t plan on moving anytime soon. Nicho kicks off his shoes at the door before settling himself on your couch and and dropping the plastic shopping bag you just realized he’s holding on the coffee table in front of him. 

“What did ya bring?”

“Snacks! I thought it was fair since you’re hosting, and providing, and from the looks of it, rolling.” he says gesturing to the rollers box in your hand while taking out a variety of chips and drinks and instant ramen cups from the bag. 

“Damn, well aren’t you a good smoking buddy!” You smile, and sit next to him on the couch, gently pushing some of the bag contents out of your way to have space to get to work. 

“I’ve never rolled my own before.” he suddenly admits, coming to sit a bit closer to you and watch while you put the weed pellets in the grinder.

“It’s not that hard for real, just takes some practice to get it right. I only started rolling my own like…. I dunno a little over a year ago now? Had to. I live alone now, obviously, so I don’t have anyone to do it for me.” you shrug, spilling the crushed weed into a prepped pink paper, quickly and carefully and rolling it like the expert you are. Nicholas whistles in awe. 

“You’re good! Your paper’s cute too.” He says nodding in approval. You thank him and get to work rolling a second joint for yourself while he settles back on the couch and flicks the lighter on. “You wanna watch something?” 

“Sure, I’m in the middle of rewatching New Girl if that’s fine?” 

“I haven’t seen it but that’s cool, you quote it a lot so I know it’s funny.” He says shooting you a smile which you return and sit back next to him, shoulder to shoulder. 

You turn your head to him so he can light your joint with the lighter he’s already got held up and lit for you and for a second your eyes meet from across the flame before you take a drag and turn your head forward to blow it out. 

You and Nicho…. are friends you guess. Always ending up at the same functions and hanging out together cause you really do get along well. He’s funny, and easy going, and always asking cutely inquisitive questions about you. You’ve grown fond of him, though you have never hung out one on one, despite wanting to more and more as of late. 

However, part of why you have been semi ignoring his hints to smoke together is for two very important reasons. One: You have been developing a bit of a massive crush on him for a few weeks now. You’re not sure what changed really. You’ve always found him attractive and he’s always been pretty comfortable to be around, but you noticed a shift in his gaze at you last time him, Fuma, Ej and you went out into town together. Maybe it was just the drinks or the lighting but you could’ve sworn he looked at you like he was going to try to kiss you that night. Doesn’t help that he decided to choose that day to break the touch barrier with you and has been more comfortable initiating it. Even now, sitting next to you, he’s absent mindedly drumming his fingers on your knee. Course he hasn’t looked at you like that since, but you wonder if he will again today. Since he’ll be intoxicated again. And you wonder if he’ll actually act on it this time now that you’re alone. Not just wonder. Hope. Which brings you to reason number two. Something about weed makes you extra horny. You genuinely have no idea what it is but every single time you’ve smoked with someone that you were attracted to you ended up hooking up. It lowers your defenses that you have so carefully put up so as not to bother or make anyone uncomfortable, while also completely taking away your filter. Both mental and verbal. That would normally stop you from saying or doing anything suggestive in mixed company. 

Yet… you’ve been single for at least six months now, you have this place all to yourself, and your annoyingly attractive and maybe flirtatious friend practically begged you to smoke with him. Who were you to say no when all the variables were quite nicely in place?

You knew your high was starting to hit when you found yourself giggling at jokes you’ve long since stopped laughing at in your rewatches since you knew they were coming, how the light of the Tv screen seemed shaper and more hard to ignore than before, and how you were oh so very aware of Nicho’s hand on your knee which has now switched from drumming to drawing small unrecognizable shapes on your knee and lower thigh. You feel yourself start to take shallower breaths as a feeling starts to grow in your stomach and you feel your face start to heat up a little. 

“You okay?” You hear Nicho’s voice ask, and you slowly turn to meet his piercing gaze from next to you. The Look is back. Here we go…

“Mmm? No yeah I’m… I’m fine why?” 

“You’re breathing weird and you got all tense suddenly, thought you were about to panic or something.” he continues, sounding genuinely concerned but you have a hard time focusing on that with the way you notice his eyes land on your lips for a beat before dropping all the way to your thigh as he taps it. “Your leg flexed up.”

“Did it?”

“Yeah… You sure you’re fine?” He asks again, tilting his head a little and making the effect of his gaze all the more enticing. 

“I’m sure. You just- I mean I don’t know. Weed makes me. Feel weird. Sometimes. It’s nothing don’t worry about it.”

“I just what?”

“What?”

“I just what? You started to say something and then bullshit your way out of it. I just what?” 

“You… I don’t know you make me nervous I guess. And your hand feels nice on my knee- or whatever.” Your mutter quickly, refusing to meet his eyes, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he replies.

“Oh?”

“I guess.”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous, by the way.”

“What?” You turn to him this time, blinking in surprise. You didn’t expect him to flirt so readily, especially when your own flirting was so awkward and indirect but he just smiles at you.

“I saaaaid”, he leans towards you a bit, deliberately staring at your lips now, as his hand slides up your thigh a bit more, making your breath catch in anticipation. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.” he repeats breaking his gaze with your lips to lean back and take a hit from his joint. You let out a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“Not you teasing me…”

“Am I?” he asks, blowing the smoke out to the side. 

“Leaning in like that like you’re gonna kiss me and then… not.” You take a hit of your own joint now, a little annoyed with how easily you’re giving away your feelings to him after having held back from being so direct for weeks. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” You breathe out, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Won’t happen again, promise.” he responds, smiling that annoyingly charming smile again and leaning towards you once more. 

Your heart races as he finally closes the gap between you, and the kiss is so soft and disarming you almost completely loose your senses and drop the still lit joint you hold between your fingers. He pulls back and leans away from you to put out the light on his and set it on the coffee table before swiftly pulling you onto his lap. You blink down at him, reaction time slowed by the weed filling your brain and tilt your head in question. 

“Always thought you’d look pretty looking down at me. Wanted to test the theory out.” He says, cupping your face with his hand and brushing his thumb across your bottom lip while he does. Your breath catches in your throat and you let out a small “oh.” in response. To which he giggles. His giggles are adorable to be frank. Just as soft and disarming as the kiss. He then takes the joint from between your fingers and relights it, holding it to his lips and not breaking eye contact with you as he takes a long drag. 

He then beckons to you with a finger and you lean forward a little with your mouth open a bit, catching his drift already. He puckers his lips to blow smoke at you which you inhale greedily with your eyes fluttering shut. His lips meet yours before you’re able to breathe out again, making your head woozy with lust, weed, and lack of oxygen but it feels so… so good. So much so that when he breaks the kiss to start kissing you along your jaw and down your neck while running his hand along your thigh you let out a small moan. 

“Feel good, baby?” 

Baby the sudden nickname would’ve been enough to make you moan again on its own, but then he started to bite and lick at the skin on your collar bones that are exposed due to your tank top. 

“Fuck, Nicho…” you half moan half sigh out in response as his hand moves up under your shirt to cups and squeezes your breast while you run one hand through his hair and grip one of his biceps with the other to feel how they flex under your touch while he touches you over your bra. 

“I’ll take that as a yes…” he mutters, and you can feel his proud little smirk against your chest. 

He finally moves back just enough to slip your tank top up over your head and you take the opportunity to help him out of his black t-shirt so you can finally see, and more importantly feel, his muscled chest. You two had been friends long enough to have been in a few situations like pool parties and such in which you had seen him without a shirt on. You’d be lying if you said the thought of how his pretty toned abs would feel under your fingers didn’t cross your mind when you saw them flexed and shimmering with water under the soft glow of moon and porch light at your friend’s house. You never thought you’d have the chance but here you are now, perched on his lap as he takes hits from your joint and looks at you hungrily while you run your hands up and down his chest, and feel him getting hard already underneath you.

“You’re so pretty.” You softly admit, meeting his eyes, “Been noticing it for a while but… god you’re so pretty.” You repeat running your hands back up to clasp behind his neck. You smile to yourself noticing his ears turn pink and his gaze get a little less confident, clearly embarrassed by your sudden compliment but from the way you feel his dick twitch in his pants under you, you know he enjoyed every second of it. 

“Could say the same to you.”

“Then do it.” you giggle down at him, semi absent mindedly starting to grind down into him a little.

“You’re really pretty.” he says his voice a little shakier than before as your movements become a bit more pronounced. Still, his gaze darkens a bit as he takes another drag and blows it out slow to the side this time before facing you again. “Open your mouth, pretty.” He softly demands, and instinctively you do. He then brings the joint to your lips and you close your lips around it, just like before. “Breathe.” and you do, still subtly grinding into him while his free hand snakes around your back and deftly unclips your bra. “Blow for me, baby.” he instructs after moving the joint from your lips and leaning forward to catch the smoke while you blow, closing the gap before you can breathe in again to kiss you for a moment and then breaking it again. “You follow orders well.” he hums kissing down your chest again. 

“I like to do what I’m told.” you shamelessly admit and he chuckles before closing his lips around your nipple while his hand plays with the other. 

“Keep being a good girl for me and I’ll make it worth your time.” he says while moving to your other breast, you can’t help but moan in response, the weed making your ability to stay quiet fly out the window. “Do you want that?”

“Mmhmm.” you nod, closing your eyes and grinding shamelessly against him. You’re certain there’s a wet patch growing on his thigh now, from your wetness leaking from your needy cunt, through your underwear and thin little shorts, and onto his dark gray sweatpants. 

“Use your words, baby.” he instructs. Pulling away from you to finish off the joint and absentmindedly toss the roach to the coffee table while looking at you with those pretty piercing eyes of his. He leans back, hands stilling your hips while he waits for you to speak, blowing out the smoke stored in his mouth and you quickly lean forward to catch it in yours before it dissipates. 

“Please, Nicho… quit teasing and fuck me already.” You feign annoyance and reply. 

“Well since you asked so nicely.” he jokes meeting your lips again, but with a more hungry and deeper kiss. His tongue tangling with yours and roaming your mouth while you both pant and moan a bit into each other. You both taste of nothing but weed and desire but you swear you are on cloud 9 from his kiss alone. He, tragically, breaks it again. “Off.” he orders, slightly tugging your shorts and underwear down by the waist band. You stand quickly to pull them all the way off and leave them at your feet as he remains seated and does the same with his boxers and sweatpants, his dick springing to attention and already taught and leaking. Your thighs clench on instinct at the sight of it, feeling yourself somehow get even wetter. It’s perfect, not too big but not disappointingly small either, and the kind of thickness you know is gonna feel incredible stretching you out. “Sit. Bring the other joint with you.” he orders again. 

“Yes sir.” You half joke but when you catch his eye after settling back on his thigh, you notice his expression change. “Oh you liked that, didn’t you, pretty boy?” 

“Maybe. Do it again.” 

“Why should I? Haven’t been given an order.”

“Oh so you’re a brat now?” he asks, his eyebrows are knit in annoyance but his voice is tinged in amusement and his lips almost twitch into a smile. 

“Maybe…” you giggle moving forward to kiss him but he stops you with a finger to your lips. 

“Gimmie the joint. While we smoke, I need you to jerk me off while you ride my thigh. You don’t get to feel how good im gonna fuck you until you’ve made yourself cum, understood?”

“…Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” he smirks, before putting the joint between his pretty lips and taking a drag while you start to get to work. 

You let a thread of spit fall from your mouth onto his dick to help your hand move up and down it, gathering his precum from the tip and pinching it on the way down making him shudder out a breath while he exhales smoke and holds the joint to your lips. You continue like this, just as before but far more stimulating for the both of you. Him passing the joint between the two of you and instructing you on when to open, breathe, and blow. You getting higher and more turned on by the second while his free hand roams your body. Sometimes guiding your hips against his thigh, which he intermittently flexes and releases to make you whimper and moan for him, or grabbing and kneading at your breasts or ass. It was intoxicating, the feeling of it all coupled with his soft but demanding voice telling you what to do, and you were already so wet and turned on that it didn’t take long for you to find yourself gasping and moaning as you came softly all over his thigh. 

“Such a good girl for me.” Nicho coos from below you as you come to a stop, your hand stilling on his cock which, shockingly has yet to come undone. Nicho lifts you off his lap and repositions you so you’re laying back on the couch while you catch your breath. He brings one leg up to a bend against your chest while he leans down to kiss you, letting his cock rub lazily against your folds and making you shiver as your pussy begins to clench around nothing, hungry for what’s to come. “You ready?” 

“Yes, sir.” you breathe out in response and he immediately snakes a hand between the two of you to guide himself inside your needy cunt. You both gasp as he easily slides all the way into you, filling you up completely, before he slowly begins to move. 

Nicholas is a vision above you. Jaw dropped, eyes shut tight, and brows furrowed as he rolls his hips into you at a steady rhythm, not bothering to hold back his whines and moans unlike most guys you’d been with before. His hair sticks to his forehead a bit from the sweat glistening on it and you look down to see how his abs tense and relax as he thrusts into you. You start to move to match his pace, grinding down to meet him while you shamelessly stare up at him in awe and join his chorus of moans. 

“Fuck you feel so good, pretty. So so good. Fuck.” he manages to say between moans, before kissing you again and quickly moving to bite and suck on your nipples, making your moans louder and back start to arch a little. “You sound so pretty for me too, baby. Keep moaning like that and I’m gonna cum.” he warns, fucking into you deeper and faster while his tongue bites and swirls around your nipples interchangeably, which prompts your back to arch more and your lewd chorus of moans and skin slapping against skin grows louder. 

“F-fuck Nicho you feel so good. You fill me up so good pretty boy.” you moan, raking your nails across his back while he continues to devour your neck and chest in a way you’re certain will leave lots of bruises and he moans against your chest. “Nicho I’m close again, please. I’m so close.”

“Yeah? Fuck, baby me too.” he says snaking a hand between you to rub your clit in tight fast circles making you scream out in pleasure as the knot in your stomach threatens to snap. “Where do you want me to cum pretty?” he grunts, clearly fighting his hardest to not cum too soon. 

“Inside. Fucking fill me up, pleas god. I want you to-“ he cuts you off with a hungry kiss and a groan, still working your clit, and it’s enough to make you fall apart. You clench around his cock, moaning into his mouth more than kissing it, and soon after he does the same. Releasing and painting your insides with his cum. But he doesn’t stop fucking into you, and you’re barely able to ride out the high of your first orgasm as you feel the next one starting to build up again, his dick still hard inside you. 

“Wait I wanna taste you. Is that okay?” He asks, slowing his thrusts to an agonizing pace while he waits for you to respond. 

“God yes. Please yes.” you gasp out. He kisses you one last time before removing his cock from your pussy, both of your cum spilling out of you leaving you feeling empty but not for long. He quickly lowers himself down between your thighs and glances up at you as he licks up from your dripping cunt to your clit and swallows the mix of your juices while making eye contact with you and smiling, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Fuuuuuck Nicho ohmygod!” 

Nicholas’s lips close around your sensitive clit, sucking on it for a bit before his tongue ventures to thrust slowly in and out of your cunt. He moves his head back and forth and up and down, rubbing his nose against your clit while his tongue fucks into you. You feel yourself getting close again already as he starts to groan and move faster, lips attaching to your clit again when he fucks two fingers into you and you instinctively grab hold of his hair to stable yourself. The weed and pleasure mixing to make you feel like if you don’t hold on to him you’d float away for sure. One of Nicho’s hands slides up your stomach to your breast while he continues eating you out ferociously, barely pausing to take breaths and whisper praises to you while you moan out his name. It’s not until your legs shake and clench around him do you realize you’re cumming again, the pleasure having been so overwhelming you lost yourself in it a bit until you’re dragged back down to earth when it all stops and he removes himself from between your legs to kiss you again. You can taste yourself and him on his lips and tongue and you’re so hazy and content that you find yourself moaning into his mouth again before he breaks the kiss to lay his head on your chest and look you in the eye. 

“That was… really good. Been waiting to do that for a while…” He admits grinning shyly, his lips and chin still glistening with your wetness and spit. 

“Oh yeah?” You half ask half tease, running your hands softly through his hair making his eyes flutter closed as he hums in affirmation. “…Honestly me too.” you finally admit. 

“Oh, I know.” He giggles, looking up at you again and making your face flash hot and you look away shyly as if you hadn’t been moaning his name moments before. 

“That obvious, huh?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I thought it was cute how you tried to hide how flustered you got whenever we touched. Made me wanna do it more.” he admits, standing up. “You wanna go shower, change into something else, and eat something? You must be starving.” He suggests pulling you up off the couch and into his arms, lazily resting his hands on your hips and leaning down to kiss you softly a few times before you could answer.

“Sure�� you wanna join me?”

“Oh absolutely.” he grins, kissing you again before you lead him off to your bathroom with a giggle. 

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

[daydreamabout]

Valentine's Day [Tim Bradford Imagine]

Summary: Tim and you spend the day catching a flower thief.

The fresh air bites at your skin as you sit in the driver’s seat of the cruiser, flipping through radio channels like you’re trying to escape your current reality.

"Do you know how insulting it is that we’re working on Valentine’s Day?" you mutter, mostly to yourself. "There’s a reason I signed up for the LAPD, but this? This is just cruel and unusual punishment."

Tim doesn’t even look at you, eyes fixed ahead as usual. He’s dressed in his standard attire— and obviously entirely uninterested in your commentary. "We’re here to do our job, not play romance novel."

You scoff. "Yeah, because nothing screams 'romantic' like sitting in a car on Valentine’s Day, tracking down flower thieves."

He barely reacts, his voice dry. "If I had to pick a case for tonight, I wouldn’t have picked this either. Let's just get it done."

You glance at him, but the corner of your lips betrays you. You’re not really mad. The whole thing is ridiculous, but somehow... fun in a strange way. "I’m just saying, a robbery case would have been better than hunting down some guy who’s stealing flowers from local vendors."

A pause, as he shoots you a sideways glance, almost amused. "What did you expect, Y/N? A bank heist?"

Before you can respond, the radio crackles.

"Unit 42, be advised. Suspect reported in the area of 5th and Main. Flower theft suspected. Handle with caution."

"Are we really doing this? I thought it was just a prank."

Tim's already putting the car in gear. "Let’s go, Y/N."

The drive to the florist district is short. You pull up behind a row of stores—mostly small, family-owned shops selling overpriced bouquets to all the people who forgot it was Valentine’s Day until the last minute. Sure enough, there's a man standing near one of the displays with a large bouquet, looking suspiciously out of place.

Tim glances at you. "Keep it cool."

You nod, stepping out of the car. As always, he's the first to approach the suspect, his serious demeanor making everyone around him think twice.

"Flower thief," you say lightly, but with enough authority to make it clear you’re not here for a friendly chat. The suspect immediately flinches.

"I—I didn’t steal anything," the guy stammers, clutching the flowers like they’re his lifeline.

Tim keeps his distance but studies the guy carefully. "Where’d you get those flowers?"

The suspect starts to crack under pressure, his eyes darting to the street and then back to you. "I—uh—bought them. I swear. From the shop back there." He points to a little boutique across the street.

"Yeah, well, I don’t see a receipt," Tim says flatly, not buying it for a second. "You’ve got about thirty seconds before we call it in."

You add, "And a very romantic night in a holding cell. You don’t want that." Your smile is so sweet it could be considered a threat.

The suspect gulps. “I—uh—look, I was going to buy them, but then the shopkeeper caught me eyeing them for too long, and I just thought... what the hell? It's Valentine’s Day, I needed something for my girl, and they were just sitting there all perfect, waiting to be taken. It’s not like I was robbing the place."

You raise an eyebrow. "You can’t just walk in and take them. That’s not cool, buddy."

Calm but firm, Tim steps in. "You’re lucky we’re not putting you in cuffs for an actual robbery. But I’m going to need you to hand those over and head home. Don’t let me catch you trying anything else tonight."

The guy nods quickly, practically dropping the flowers in Tim’s hands. "Thanks! I’ll pay next time!" he blurts, before running off into the night, leaving the two of you standing in the fresh February air.

You stand there for a second, trying to process the situation. "Well, that was..."

Tim turns toward you, and the tiniest hint of a smirk twitches at the corner of his lips. "No one ever said Valentine’s Day crimes would be exciting."

You snort. "Could’ve at least been a flower heist gone wrong. You know, something dramatic."

"That would’ve made your night, huh?" Tim says, his voice dry. "How about you focus on the fact that we just stopped someone from stealing more flowers. You’ll sleep better knowing you protected the integrity of the floral industry."

You laugh. "I’m just glad we’re done with this. Now we can go grab a burger or something. No more heart-shaped nonsense for me tonight."

Tim nods, stepping back toward the car. “Let’s go. And no more talking about flowers. This night never happened.”

You follow him, still smiling despite the oddness of it all. "Hey, at least we got the job done. Team of the year."

He glances over, an almost imperceptible look of acknowledgment in his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. But if you’re expecting me to buy flowers after tonight, you must be out of your mind."

You grin. "Disappointed, but not suprised. I’ll take you up on that burger."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Tim actually seems... relaxed. Maybe Valentine’s Day wasn’t such a bust after all.

[youryanderedaddy]

Tw: female reader, nsfw, m!sub to m!dom, con to dub-con/non-con, slight degradation, hinted baby trapping My Ko - fi <3

When you and Gerald started hooking up, you didn't think much of it. Sure, it was fun to play around with your high - school enemy turned academic rival now that both of you were in the same old prestigious college. And you would be lying if you said that it didn't stroke your ego to have the man who used to underestimate you all your childhood pussy drunk and wrapped around your little finger. But nowadays he was just acting off - even for his nerdy oddball self.

Before he used to feel so nervous around you, cheeks growing hot at your light - hearted touch. Your rival used to let you lead - with your body, with your eyes keeping him down, groaning underneath you as you rode him to overstimulation. He always broke beautifully, crying out your name as your heat milked him dry over and over again. He was quite cute like that, moaning obscenely, happy to let you use him as a stress toy.

But slowly things started to change. As university work kept piling up and the once friendly environment turned hostile and competitive, your fuck buddy caved to the pressure. His clear green eyes muddied, turning gray - and his fist would wrap around your hair unprompted, pulling instead of caressing. His kisses got desperate, aggressive - he wasn't trying to please you, but devour you completely. Even his tongue, once so sweet and wanton, turned sharp and degrading.

"Like that, little slut?" Gerald would hiss in your ear while taking you from behind - only stopping to slap your ass when you didn't nod quickly enough. "Just like I thought." He would smirk, and it reminded you of that stupid self satisfied grin he used to do in the past when he managed to beat you at something. "I should have known you were only good for one thing." He'd keep going, egging himself on as he thrust into you roughly.

You, for one, didn't care. In a way you even liked the change in him - it was new and exciting to let him take control and ruin you for once. You just needed to take off some steam - you could play both the master and the slave, the dominant and the submissive; as long as he made you cum your brains out, you were content enough.

The thing was, this change was too sudden to be organic or born out of desire. The shift in his behavior had been too frantic, too emotional - and the trigger seemed to be you once again. You two had just started a new course together - perhaps the most important one in your career so far. You were tasked with a big project and you were making a lot of progress - so much so that your professor had tried to find you a start-up sponsor, something most students weren't granted unless they were close to graduating. Gerald didn't like that - although he didn't make it known at first.

The next time you met him, he insisted you go to his place. It was your first time stepping foot inside his den - which was, frankly, equally exciting and nerve - wrecking.

He greeted at you at the door - said his roommate won't be coming back today, so you have the whole flat to yourselves. Your rival had even cooked dinner for you along with your favourite dessert. The whole romantic atmosphere made you feel uncomfortable - you had never seen Gerald as anything more than some quick weekend fun, but your well mannered nature prevailed and you didn't say anything.

Eventually he got you laying on his small creeking bed, naked and tipsy off cheap wine. You were giggling when your lips met - his tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, although he didn't really smoke. There was something weird in the air tonight, but you were too drunk and horny to figure out what exactly.

Gerald started fucking into you with slow precision, making sure to hit your sweet spot - licking the tears off your cheeks as you cried out in pleasure.

"You feel like Heaven." He whispered, burying his head in your neck, his nose tickling your sensitive skin. "And you smell so good. So perfect for me." The man kept blabbering. His words began to sober you up - there were nothing like his initial boyish whimpers or the degrading praise he'd shower you in nowadays. This felt... genuine. Rehearsed. Somehow it made your skin crawl.

"You're too fucking pretty for your own good." He murmured to himself, bottoming out just to push himself all the way inside you - making you whine pathetically. You couldn't even think properly when he was making you feel so much. "Is that how you got that sponsorship, baby?" The man cooed at you, cupping your cheek - voice dropping dangerously. "Did you spread your legs for Mr. Smith like a nasty little whore? Hm? Is your dignity so cheap you're willing to do anything to climb the ladder now?"

He was rubbing his tip along your slit, teasing you in just the right way - but even the electric joints of pleasure weren't enough to numb the pain his words had caused you.

"What do you mean? I've never done anything like that!" You stated defensively, pushing at his chest - but he didn't bulge. "We've known each other since forever. You should know better to than to throw such baseless accusation. I'm capable - I'd never sink so low t–

He didn't wait for you to finish, driving into you with mad ferocity, eyes almost black now.

"I know. I know!" Your rival screamed as if possessed by a madman - then gripped your shoulders tightly, shaking you to your core. "But I don't need you to be capable. I don't need you to be smart or strong or ambitious." His nails were digging into your flesh, but you didn't dare complain. "I just need you to be mine."

You opened your mouth, ready to confront him - to ask him what the fuck was going on, whether this was even real, or just a cruel joke on his part. But you couldn't because in the next moment you felt his warm seed filling you up so deep it dripped down your thighs. You closed your eyes, terrified. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be coming inside you when he knew fully well that you weren't on the pill. Fuck.

"All mine."