#We went a full week and I want to go back already

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Feel-good

Words: 7k+ Summary: Rafe doesn't like how much Sarah wants to hang out with you, while you don't see what the problem is. And if there is anything that defines Rafe Cameron, it is petty. Warnings: Fem!Reader. SMUT {no condom, piv, biting, dirty talk, a bit of dacryphilia}, mention of alcohol consumption, petty silent treatment (because Rafe will always be petty in my fics).

Tutor Masterlist

A/N.: This chapter wasn't exactly planned. So enjoy it as the day off drama for my two babies <3

It is the day before your graduation ceremony, so the days have gone by pretty quickly since you left your parents’ home. You’ve received your results from your last exams, you got the answer back from UNC-Chapel Hill, and your summer is finally starting. Nothing's holding you back now. There are no more secrets. No more drama. Nothing. It’s just you, Rafe, and, of course, Patty.

“I’m starting to think they love you more than me,” Patty says as you two look through the snack aisle.

They, meaning her parents, got home last night with no prior warning and discovered you living in their spare room. You expected to be given at most a week to pack your things and go. Nope, you got invited for dinner and got wine drunk with her mom as you celebrated your high school grand finish with straight A’s.

“You’re exaggerating.” You roll your eyes.

“I wish I were,” She sighs dramatically, “But they’ve literally just texted me after we left the house to make sure that you wear sunscreen.” And you laugh uncontrollably at that.

Maybe you had a magic touch with families. After all, Rafe’s wasn’t much different. You haven’t been to his house to tutor Wheezie ever since she got done with her exams, but he has been telling you how Rose wants you to come over for dinner nearly every night. And Sarah has been nagging him non-stop to finally have your number, since you’re a lost cause when it comes to answering DM's on social media. Also, Wheezie has always loved you, so dating her brother only really made things that much better for her. And Rose and Ward welcomed you, maybe a little too fast, after the party.

With your hands full of your favorite snacks, you decide to abandon not-so-only-child-anymore Patty to go leave them at the register and vacant your hands once more. There, some drinks already wait to be paid for, but you assume Rafe and Kelce are still going to grab some more. You offer the girl working at the register a small smile, which she answers back with one of her own, and the sound of the ringing bell of the door invades the small store.

You look over to find Sarah and her friends soon follow. You’ve never formally met them, but you’re sure many people could recognize them from afar. It’s the usual group of JJ, John B, and Kiara, though Pope is nowhere to be seen. Probably waiting in the van, just like Topper is waiting at the Jeep.

Sarah’s squeal of excitement fills the store when she sees you, and before you can even smile at her, her arms are securely around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Oh my god, I finally get to see you,” She exclaims, “Rafe has been an asshole and refuses to give me your number.”

She pulls away from the hug to look at you, and her excitement is contagious, making you smile at her back.

“I’m not sure why he’s not giving you my number,” You try to justify, “I’ve told him to do it-”

“He's a gatekeeping bitch, that’s why.” She says, probably knowing that he’s somewhere in the store and might hear him. “I only want to go shopping or hang out with you. He acts like I’m trying to steal you away every time.”

You laugh at her frustration, and as you pull your phone out to give it to her - in a silent gesture for her to give you her number and text herself - you notice that her friend group has not moved on with their shopping without her. They’re all looking at you two.

You can tell from some faces that, at least, John B. and JJ don’t recognize you, but Kiara surely does. You went to middle school together, after all. The guys look at you as if they’re not sure about you, whether to like you or not. Sarah surely likes you, but, from the conversation they’ve heard till now, they’re not all that sure about you anymore. Kiara, on the other hand, seems bored with having to wait for Sarah, but her face grew into annoyance pretty quickly.

Sarah grabs your phone from your hands to type in her number, and, as you begin watching her do it, a hand appears from behind you and snatches the phone. You two look up to find none other than the true enemy of this friendship, your boyfriend.

“You are unbelievable,” Sarah tells him, her tone full of frustration and pure hate.

“Leave my girl alone, Sarah.” He tells her, serious as all hell. “If you have something to say to her, say it to me first and I’ll pass on the message.”

You scoff at his behaviour and smack him on the stomach. He looks down at you in response.

“Give her my phone, Rafe.” You tell him, and he’s unmoving. “We just want to hang out, what’s so bad about that?”

“I don’t trust her,” He motions at his sister, “She’ll convert you into her little tribe there-”

And that’s enough to startle the thin peace among the Pogues. Kiara, who had stayed back and been silent, now scoffs at the loudest volume she could muster, and JJ takes his cap off his head in utter disbelief. You notice that Rafe’s mouth twists up in amusement, and you only shake your head at him.

“My phone.” You outstretch your hand at him, “Please.”

“Please, nothing.” Sarah interrupts, “Give me her phone, dofus. You have no right. It’s her phone, she doesn’t have to ask you for anything…” She keeps going.

You sigh as they start to fully argue in the most sibling way possible, and you can’t help but share a look with the girl at the register. Even she is dumbfounded.

Sarah and Rafe continue to call each other the most outrageous names while also fighting for their right to either spend time with you or 'look out for your safety,' as ridiculous as that sounds. You think about walking away, but you’re literally the only person on Sarah’s side, and you don’t want her to lose this battle.

Halfway through Rafe’s sentence, you put your hand in his pocket and grab his own phone. Sarah and Rafe are too distracted in their argument to notice you at first, but then Sarah’s phone dings loudly.

They pause mid-sentence, and you lock Rafe’s phone.

Sarah reaches and looks down at her phone, reading the just-received text from her brother, with your number on it. Rafe doesn’t have to read it to understand what just happened, so his eyes go to you, disappointed, as you return his phone to his pocket. You look up at him after. A little startled to already find his eyes on you, you give him a small smile, and it’s enough for Rafe to calm down his staring and lose his previous deadly look.

His sister then starts laughing in his face, and you can’t help but smile a little. Rafe rolls his eyes and decides to take his brooding self elsewhere. You watch him disappear into the cold section of the small store, back to grab more drinks with Kelce.

John B. and JJ decide they’ve seen enough and go look through the store to find what they need, but Kiara stays back with Sarah, which intrigues you. Is she also 'looking out' for Sarah? Just like Rafe had with you?

“... Wheezie needs to come with us too, she has been telling me how much she misses you.” Sarah continues telling you about your plans together. “We could have a sleepover!”

You smile at her, “Sure!”

“Do you want to come with us, Kie?” Sarah asks, turning her body to face her friend. Your eyes go to her too, and she stares back, unstartled from being, all of a sudden, included in your conversation.

“Nah, I think I’m good,” she says directly to you, which confuses you. It’s as if you’re the reason for her answer, even if you two haven’t spoken in years.

Sarah doesn’t accept that, “Oh, come on. It’d be so fun!” Her volume rises in excitement, “I haven’t had a girls' night in so long. You have to come!”

Patty appears beside you with a lot of chips and other savory snacks and lays them on the counter beside you. She doesn’t say anything yet, but she studies you and Sarah for a bit, almost as if waiting for something. You can’t help but chuckle.

“Do you want to come too, Patty?” You invite her, only raising Sarah’s excitement by a million, because: more girls!

“Kiara, now you have to come with us,” Sarah tells her friend, but Kie is unmoving. “Why not?”

“Not exactly my crowd,” She answers with a shrug. Her eyes stay on you and on Patty as if to appoint the crowd in question with her eyes.

“Okay…” You say in a low voice, only for Patty’s ears to hear. You turn to her and then to Sarah, not enjoying the vibe that has been laid out between all the girls after that. “I’ll go help Rafe with the drinks.”

Kiara’s slight reaction to your words gives you a good enough justification for her tone towards you. Her problem with you begins and ends with your association with Rafe. Good to know. She’s not the only one.

You send both your friends a short smile and disappear into the closest aisle to get out of Kiara’s sight. You walk by JJ and John B, who go silent when you walk beside them, and then finally reach the fridge section.

Rafe is with his back to you, staring at the open fridge as Kelce does most of the work to find the drink they want, and, when you reach him, you playfully nip at the skin of his arm. Rafe doesn’t even react. You frown and move to stand beside him, looking up at his face, but he doesn’t meet your eyes.

Rafe Cameron is sulking, people.

He shares some words with Kelce while you just stand there for a bit, and he continues to ignore you, even when Kelce includes you in the conversation too. You move closer to him, and, thankfully, his sulking doesn’t extend to avoidance because he doesn’t distance himself from you. With that information, you wrap your arms around his waist, as you always do, and kiss his chest. No response, so you smile and keep your body wrapped around his anyway.

Kelce disappears with the rest of the drinks to finally pay for everything, and Rafe leans away from the fridge door to follow him. But it’s difficult for him to do so when you’re still hugging him.

He struggles to walk, but he doesn’t move you out of the way. He’s petty enough to prefer to struggle rather than lose his silent protest against your actions. You don’t take it to heart, and he knows you wouldn’t. You just laugh into his shirt and let him go, before saying, “Fine. Be moody!”

You walk back to the register with a giddiness nevertheless present in your heart, and go help Kelce and Patty put all your purchases in bags. Rafe only shows up to swipe his card and pay for everything. And, after that, you all leave for the Jeep outside. You say your farewells to Sarah, and she smiles widely as she waves you goodbye.

(...)

It’s been a few good hours since the store, all of you have been in Rafe’s family’s boat ever since you’ve bought everything you needed, and, since then, all you’ve done is drink, swim, and lie in the sun. The, finally, good enough start of your summer.

Rafe… is still sulking, but not in the traditional way. Everyone has noticed his silent pity party to himself, but he talks and interacts with everyone else but you. That’s why they caught on so early. You still take everything he’s doing as a joke and continue on with your life. You still love him as if he’s reciprocating it, and, though he’s ignoring you, he doesn’t seem to hate it all that much.

After baking in the sun for enough time, your bikini is already mostly dry again, and you’re on your way to find a drink. You’ve been talking to Patty while in the sun for most of the time, so you have no idea what the guys have been doing ever since you left them in the water.

You go down a few steps after leaving the front deck, and you can already hear Topper and Kelce’s voices on the other side of the boat, probably still by the water. You grab Rafe’s shirt from the couch in the aft deck and pull it over your head, tying it at your stomach due to the heat.

You enter the dining area of the boat by pushing open the door, and your eyes fall on the half-naked man. “Hey, grumpy,” you say as you walk towards him. No answer. You kiss his hot skin as you walk past and go grab a glass.

You look around for the water bottle that you guys bought and see it in front of Rafe. You scootch in closer and try to reach the bottle as you say, “Excuse me” in a whisper. He does respond to you this time, not moving out of the way like you asked, but by grabbing the bottle and pulling it closer to you so you can reach it. And, just to get on his nerves: “Thank you, baby. I love you so much!” You enthusiastically say.

Still no response, but you can’t exactly see his face as he looks down at his phone, so you drink your water and lean against the cold stone of the counter. Rafe’s attention continues to be on his phone, so you lean in close until your bodies are touching. Rafe stops typing, and you see it as an opportunity to spy on what he’s doing.

You never felt so disappointed in your life. He’s, quite literally, answering emails.

“You’re no fun,” you whisper into the skin of his tanned and naked arm, “I don’t even think I recognize you.”

No response, so you do the second-best thing and start touching him more. Alcohol is already well a part of your system, so you welcome it with all your might. You lean in closer to Rafe and kiss his arm and shoulder. The room you’re in isolates all noise from the outside, so you two can practically hear your lips on his skin.

You leave your glass on the counter and go behind Rafe, wrapping your arms around him to have your chest glued to his smooth back and kissing his spine. But, right before your hands can even begin to explore, the door slides open and disrupts your peace.

You squint at the light behind whoever comes in, and, to your surprise, it’s everybody. You don’t separate from Rafe, given that they were the ones who came in during your love session, and lean your head against him. Rafe looks at them, too, and speaks, as if he doesn't have you glued to him.

“I checked it,” He says to Topper, making his torso vibrate with his voice, “they didn’t talk about any collaborations in the email. Just something about…” and you zoned out.

Patty, having her priorities straight, walks over to the food on the opposite counter and starts making herself her lunch. You eye her as she works in silence, thinking about what you could put on your own sandwich, but Rafe starts moving, disrupting your peace of scanning the imaginary list of ingredients that you brought into the boat. 

You begin to let go of him, thinking he’s planning on leaving the room or whatever, but he simply turns around to lean his back on the counter, and, consequently, faces you. Kelce and Topper start another uninteresting conversation, and you look up at Rafe, who is looking and listening to them attentively. 

Your eyes eye him with much annoyance, and you pull away before your drunken mind decides to really test his ability to ignore you. Aka, twist his nipple.

Moving over to Patty, you look at everything in front of you and decide on your lunch.

“Still ignoring you?” Patty asks with a smile.

You look up at her and shrug. “Guess so”.

“Men…” She says as she shakes her head and resumes her stacking of her ingredients, and you can’t help but laugh.

You grab two pieces of bread and join her in the stacking. You two decide to go eat elsewhere, and you don’t even spare Rafe a look. Yet, if you had, you would’ve seen his eyes on you as you left.

(...)

Hours and many drinks later, everyone gave up swimming for the day. Topper grilled hamburgers for dinner on the above deck, and, with a stomach full of food and alcohol still pumping through everyone’s systems, some retired directly into their beds. The only ones remaining are you, Rafe, and Topper. 

You scroll through your phone’s gallery while they talk, still not being affected by the need for sleep, unlike Topper, who has yawned endlessly for the past 10 minutes. You’re entertained and happy while looking at your screen. 

Now that you and Rafe have no one to hide your relationship from, posting on social media has become a thing. You two aren’t posting anything crazy, like endless pictures of each other's faces or collages of you two kissing – of course not. But things like the same locations in your stories, the same parties, or, in this case, the same boat. Or even other photos, like ones with the entire group – tendency of Patty to force everybody in a group photo spontaneously – or just canon pictures of you or your friends.

It’s maybe dumb that something as small as that makes you happy, but showing off Rafe had been the privilege you had been deprived of ever since the beginning of your relationship. So, you bet your monthly photo-dumps or random groups of photos get to include him and his friends. Your boyfriend’s hot, damnit, god forbid you let the entire world see that.

You’re lying over the couch, mostly hidden by the table in front of you, while Rafe and Topper sit at the head and foot of the table, leaving you more than enough space to just lie down on your phone and roll in whatever direction you might like to.

After a good few moments of scrolling through your gallery, Topper announces his wish to go to bed. They might think that you’re asleep by now, since they both start cleaning up the table without you, so you decide to come out of hiding.

You stretch and sit up, letting Rafe’s shirt, now untied, fall to your lap, and see them talking with the door slid completely open as they throw everything in the trash. You get up, grab the remaining trash, and walk over to them. Topper looks up at you, giving you a sleepy smile to acknowledge your presence, and you give him one of yours, too.

“Good night, love birds.” He says as he turns around to go downstairs to the bedrooms.

“Good night,” the two of you say, almost in sync.

Rafe closes the trash once you throw in your stuff, and you go back outside to grab your phone, tying the shirt back up as you walk. Surprisingly, Rafe follows you and takes back his seat at the head of the table. You watch him as he grabs his phone and just continues to be in his own world.

You stand there, just a meter away from him, watching him, and the man just keeps on scrolling.

“Want to go to sleep?” You try to ask him.

No response.

You groan out of frustration and throw your phone back on the table. You’re not going to sleep until he talks to you and stops being his petty self. So, you try to be annoying.

You poke his head, flick his forehead, play with the buzz cut, pinch his neck… Literally nothing.

As you watch him, Rafe leans back on the couch on his phone, and you, with a lack of patience, snatch the phone from his hands. You stare at the screen and sigh. At least he’s not checking emails, but he was just scrolling through social media. You look over at him, and he is still not meeting your eyes.

You throw the phone in the direction of yours, and it falls perfectly in the middle of the table. You take a seat next to him and face him.

You tell him, “All of this because I gave Sarah my number?”

You expected to be ignored, but he, dead serious, turns his head to face you like you hit the nail right on the head. You sit still for a second, shamelessly enjoying his attention on you for starters, and then laughing in his face for how petty this entire afternoon has been. You move, with his eyes still on you, to sit on his lap, facing him, and Rafe doesn’t look away at that.

“Why?” You ask him, looking down at him.

He doesn’t answer, and you roll your eyes.

“How am I supposed to not want to hang out with your sister, when you don’t even tell me what’s so bad about her?” He gives you a look that it’s comical, but you continue, “I’ve known her for as long as I've known you. She seems as normal as any other person in your family.”

That gets him talking, “What is that supposed to mean?”

You laugh at the baffled look on his face, and lay your hands on his shoulders. “You’re still not answering me.”

“She’s annoying,” he tells you.

“That’s it?” You frown, lifting your hands off his shoulder to lay them on your thighs. “Everyone can be annoying, and I still hang out with them.”

Rafe gives you a look of ‘you better not be talking about me’, making you smile, and you look over at the closed glass door everyone had gone through to go to sleep.

“So…” You start again, looking over at Rafe to already find him looking at you, of course. “I can’t hang out with her?”

He shrugs. Like a complete toddler. “You do what you want, babe.”

You groan out of frustration for him and smack his chest, making him sit up and hold back a grin of his own. You two are now much closer to one another, though you still have an advantage in height for sitting over his legs. Your hands move upwards, and your fingers begin to play with his buzzcut.

“What’s so bad about Sarah?” You ask again, looking at him dead in the eyes.

“She is annoying.”

“To you, maybe. Because you’re her brother.” You shrug, “I’ve never found her to be annoying.”

“That’s because you don’t hang with her enough.”

“And you do?” You pause your hands, knowing damn well that Rafe does not spend time with his family unless he is forced/coerced to. He leans back on his hands while looking at you. “Why is she annoying?”

“Babe,” Rafe starts, letting out a dry laugh, “Hang out with her, if you want. You can be friends with whoever-”

“But you’re sulking,” you tell him.

“I’m not.”

“Rafe,” You say seriously, “You’ve been sulking all day.” He makes a face as if you’re the wrong one, “You have to be kidding me.”

He doesn’t answer, and you huff out a breath. You use his shoulders as something to hold as you stand up. His eyes, in return, only watch you as you move.

“I’m going to bed. I’m done talking to you.” You tell him, only meaning those words half-heartedly, and Rafe knows it.

“Why?”

“Because you’re being annoying,” You tell him. “You ignored me all day. I have a right to be mad at you.”

Rafe smiles at your words, and you begin to walk towards the glass doors. You hear him moving behind you, but you’re quicker. You slide the door open and get in, closing and locking it behind you. Rafe, on the other hand, stands there, on the other side of the glass, hands on his hips like he expected you to do this. His hand doesn’t even reach for the door to know that you locked it.

“Open the door,” his voice is muffled, making you smile.

“What?” You lean in closer to the glass, “Can’t hear you.”

Rafe doesn't say anything, just to add suspense.

“There are other doors,” Your eyes widen, ��you know that, right?”

First, your brain thinks that surely the other doors would be locked, given that time has begun to reach AM, and all of you have to be safe out here... But, if they're not, can you even run that fast to close everything up before he gets in?

“And where is the fun in that?” You shrug.

“So what? You want me to stand here and-”

“And think about what you did, yes.”

Rafe looks at you as if expecting you to laugh and unlock the door, but you’re unmovable. You cross your arms and lean against the kitchen counter, watching him. He looks over his shoulder as he sighs, and then a smile appears on his face.

“You left your phone out here.” Damn it.

“That’s fine, I’ll get it after.”

Rafe makes a face that makes you lean away from the counter, “I don’t know. He might fall in the water during the night.” He takes a step back, towards the table, making you smile in panic.

“Rafe,” you try to sound serious, but fail miserably.

“What?” He pretends to not hear you, mimicking you, and keeps walking towards the table. You watch as he grabs his phone first, putting it into his pocket, and then yours. You don’t fold just yet, but keep watching his every move.

Rafe looks down at your phone, acting as if he’s messing with it, and then, suddenly, starts moving away from the table and the view of the glass. You call out his name, no answer. Gosh, will you actually have to fall for his bluff?

“You’re not going to throw my phone in the water.”

“It’s outdated anyway,” You hear him a little far away already. “I’ll get you a new one.”

You try to be strong and hold yourself together. You can’t fall for his tricks this easily, but blame it on the alcohol, which is minimal at this point, to make you more gullible. You have too many things in that phone to lose it in the waves because of locking your boyfriend out.

“Okay, fine!” You exclaim, unlocking the door.

You step out, expecting to see him just by the door, with a stupid smile on his face about how he tricked you. But you don’t see him anywhere. “Rafe?” You call out, still no answer. You leave the door open behind you and keep walking.

You check the front deck first, empty. You go down and keep calling out his name. Still nothing. You look around, trying to not spook yourself with something so dumb.

The waters surrounding the boat are dark, and so is everything all around it. The darkest you’ve ever seen the night be. The boat, of course, is well illuminated, but it still leaves you uneasy.

As you keep walking, now nearly by the back of the boat that leads to the water, you’re silent, not calling out for Rafe anymore. Maybe he went around and is now locking the door to keep you out? Should you go back? And then, when you least expect it, he just comes out of nowhere and grabs you.

The scream that comes out of you is inhumane, which makes you laugh as soon as you come to your senses - hopefully, not waking up anyone. Rafe is laughing at you, and you smack his head.

“You’re such an asshole!” You ask him, “Why weren’t you answering me?”

He mimicks you again, now putting on a squeaky voice, “Where’s the fun in that?” You smack his head again, making him laugh more.

“I was scared, you ass.” You say, admitting it outright, as you look up at him while being glued to his chest. “What if I’d fallen in the water?” You point to the water right next to you.

“You think I’d let that happen?”

“Yes!” You say a little too loudly, making him smile brightly at you. “Yes, I do. You’re an ass, and that would be an ass thing to do. So, yes!”

“I would never.” He tells you, making you give him a death stare.

Rafe kisses your lips anyway, but you don’t budge. He deserves to have you be the one to sulk now. After this entire day, and now this? He deserves worse.

Rafe seems to notice what you’re doing right as you start it, which makes him chuckle, but, of course, the way Rafe deals with you is much different than the way you are with him. He begins kissing your cheek, holding you close to him, and then he lands a kiss on your neck... right before throwing you over his shoulder.

You hold in any sound of surprise, and he starts walking upstairs again. You don’t move. You act dead, letting yourself swing on his shoulder as he moves.

When upstairs, he grabs the phones from his pocket and throws them on the table again, confusing you, as you expected to be brought to your bedroom. Rafe takes you off his shoulder and sits you down on the table, too. You stare up at him, with no reaction, and then his lips go directly on yours.

You kiss back, but you make sure to lay your hands on the table, refusing to touch him as you usually do. Rafe’s hands hold onto your waist, pulling you closer to him, and then move over to your hips. You ignore it at first, but it’s hard to when he starts untying the bows at the sides of your pink bikini.

Still, you give him no reaction.

Your lips don’t separate, but your bikini lies now open, making a warmth travel and burn at the bottom of your stomach. One of Rafe’s hands, previously lying over one of your thighs, moves between your legs, and you hold yourself together when you feel his fingers touch your pussy. He groans into your kiss when he drags his fingers in between your lips down towards the entrance, to already find you wet. You concentrate on your silence and on the kiss, but his fingers move up to your clit again, making you lose almost all hope in yourself.

Rafe breaks the kiss to look down at his wet hand, and so do you. His fingers work slow circles over your clit, and you let out a breath, making Rafe smile and look up at you. Your eyes meet, and his hand stops, making you want to protest, but you stay put. Rafe lays his hand on your stomach, laying you down over the table, and he goes down on his knees.

With one of your legs over his shoulder and one of his hands on the other, Rafe’s mouth starts working as soon as it can. You lift your hand over your mouth almost instantly, feeling the warmth of his hand against you, his tongue on your clit, and his breathing on your skin. Your eyes stay trained on the white roof over the table, and you focus on your breathing.

Rafe’s mouth licks, sucks, and kisses your pussy like he’s a man starved. He knows what you’re trying to do, but he also knows that you’re near failing. You’re trying to control your breathing, your sounds, your hands, and your legs to not let out any reaction, and it’s getting to be too much.

His mouth abandons your clit to move down to your entrance, and his nose touches your clit almost by accident. You bite your tongue, but Rafe catches the feeling of your thigh twitching once on his shoulder. He smiles into you and brings up one of his hands to start playing with your clit while he slides his tongue inside you.

His thumb moves faster in circles on your clit, and you can’t help but let out a small whimper. Your eyes sting a little, as tears are wanting to escape from the corner of your eyes, and you blink them away. Rafe slides his tongue out of you and moves upwards to your clit, moving his hand away for now. The warmth of his mouth is almost too much for you, but then his tongue starts moving, and you feel two of his fingers slide into you with almost no warning.

You cough out a moan, but your hand doesn’t move away from your mouth. Rafe wraps his lips around your clit and sucks on it while his fingers begin to move back and forth inside of you, knowing exactly where to hit every time.

As always, his knowledge of your body is beginning to be a little too much for you.

And then, what feels like seconds after, his mouth pulls away, and so do his fingers. When you see him stand up, you take your hand off your mouth and try to ignore the cold between your legs as you pull yourself up on your elbows.

“Turn around,” Rafe tells you, with his hands on your hips, but you don’t move, both for still trying to catch your breath and for your promise to not give up that easily.

Without any delay, Rafe flips you easily to lie on your stomach, and you huff out a breath of annoyance when you almost face plant into the table. Your bikini bottoms now fall to the ground, but you ignore them as you feel Rafe grab onto your hips from behind you. And, just in a few seconds, your annoyance evaporates when you feel Rafe’s dick slide into you. It’s slow. Torturing. And without any pause. But you almost forget your anger the moment it happens.

You two stay like that for a bit, but then Rafe begins to move. You try to concentrate, of course you do. You repeat the words, you got this, over and over in your brain, but it’s way harder than you think it is. The pleasure that had gone dormant from Rafe’s pause of his initial attack on you resumes exactly where it left off, and you almost lose it.

Your entire body feels warm, your pussy feels soaked, and your back naturally arches as soon as Rafe keeps moving. You hear him chuckle behind you, but you try to ignore it so as to not give him the satisfaction of a reaction. His dick slides easily back and forth inside of you at a pace that, though it isn’t the slowest he has punished you with, it’s nowhere near the pace you wish you could be at. It’s almost anxiety-inducing because Rafe knows what he’s doing. And he’s just telling you, without using any words, that though he almost has you breaking, he hasn’t even started yet.

And then, finally, he speeds up to a normal pace, and you lean your head onto the table. You focus on your breathing, knowing that it is already shaking, and at the beginning of a moan, but you know that Rafe can’t hear it. So, you let yourself indulge in that alone.

You close your eyes, concentrating further as pleasure continues to burn at the end of your tummy and travels down to your legs, and Rafe doesn’t seem to like how silent you are.

Out of nowhere, Rafe grabs you by your torso and pulls you up, making you arch into him and almost lean your head back on his shoulder.

“Why are you doing that?” He asks you in a mumble just below your ear, “Uhm?” He questions you.

You don’t respond, but your hands lie on the table to hold you better. His hands hold onto your waist, and you try to ignore the sounds coming from both of you. Rafe knows it right away.

“You think you’re winning, uhm?” He continues, “But you're so fucking wet that the whole boat could hear you if they were awake.”

The sound of the wet smack of skin and squelching of your pussy, makes you unconsciously squeeze Rafe’s dick, and he laughs into your ear.

“Look at you,” He kisses your neck between words, “Holding yourself together so well.” He nips at your skin, and then all you feel is his lips and tongue over your skin.

Rafe’s hands undo the tie of his shirt on you, and his hands disappear under the fabric. Your hands lift off the table as Rafe pulls you in closer and closer to his chest, and the angle worsens your entire situation. His hands find your chest and pull your tits out of the tight bikini, and, as soon as you feel his mouth on your skin again while his fingers pinch at one of your nipples, you let out a loud and shaky sigh that Rafe can now definitely hear.

“You got it, you got it.” He pokes fun at you. He kisses your cheek and the corner of your lips, “But I got to say… I already miss your whining.”

You intake air harshly through your nose as Rafe thrusts into you with a little more force, and you open your eyes. He kisses your jaw and pulls you in closer to his chest, making his warmth familiarly engulf you.

Rafe looks down at you, his head just beside yours, and you force yourself to not meet his eye. “You know what, baby?” He asks, “I’m being way too nice with you… And I really shouldn’t.”

You stay silent, biting your tongue to try and distract yourself with the slight pain of it. Rafe’s hands move away from under the shirt, and he pauses his thrusts. You breathe in and out slowly, and he grabs one of your legs, lifting it to the table and opening space for his hand. His thrusts resume with that, and his fingers return to your clit.

Rafe kisses up your neck and lets go of your waist to force your head to face him. You strengthen your back to hold yourself up as his hips continue to meet yours - his movements at the same pace as before - and Rafe looks you right in the eye as if nothing is affecting him. His poker face is surely better than yours, but you try to not lose hope in yourself.

“Am I being mean to you?” He asks you, the sound of his thrusts invading your ears and making you hold in your breath. “Uhm? Am I?” He kisses your lips with a peck, and you look down at his mouth when he pulls away, “You can tell me, baby, and I promise that I’ll take better care of you.”

He kisses you again, and a little sound escapes your mouth when Rafe’s tongue meets yours. Your hands itch to touch him. To grab his head to force him closer to you. Or his arm to hold yourself up. The kiss is wet and messy, but Rafe intends for it to be so. You squeeze his dick harder and harder, and smaller sounds escape you as you get more drunk off of him.

Rafe then decides to put some more force into his thrusts, and, with your mouths open into a kiss, an actual moan breaks out of you. Rafe smiles and pulls away from your lips, victorious and proud. You try to go back down to the table, trying to get yourself back together by distancing yourself from him and his warmth, smell, and lips, but Rafe doesn’t let you. He roughly pulls you back to his chest by wrapping his arm around your waist as he thrusts, and a shaky breath comes out of your mouth.

“Are you going to cry?” He asks you, his tone so heavy with humor, that you find it evil when directed at you. You close your eyes and force down the urge to cry out your pleasure, and Rafe just keeps making it worse. His fingers pause on the small circles on your clit and pinch it softly as he leans his head onto the crook of your neck. He bites your skin and moves away to look down at your face. Rafe looks as he speeds up his pace and thrusts fully into you. He reads your face like a book. And though you’re silent, you couldn’t make it more obvious to him. “You can cry. I got you. I always do.”

You’re getting distracted. Your pleasure is getting higher and higher, and Rafe does not shut up. He keeps talking in your ear, knowing that if he does, your pleasure just gets worse as your pussy squeezes him like a vice. He calls you his crybaby, his baby, his pretty girl. All of it to get in your head. And he succeeds.

Your hand lifts off the table and moves towards his on your waist. You grab it to try and get some strength back into you, but Rafe sees it as a slip-up and starts moving his fingers quicker against your poor clit to only make it worse. Your eyes open, and Rafe bites at your neck. Your other hand lifts up to his nape, scratching his skin, and he grunts at your touch.

“You want to come?” Rafe asks you against the skin of your cheek, and you find yourself nodding. His chuckle hits your face, and he forcibly kisses you. “You do, yeah?” You nod again when he pulls away, “Ask me, then.”

You sob out loud as the pleasure intensifies and a tear escapes. Rafe smiles at you, prouder than he’s ever been of himself, but you don’t ask him for anything. He kisses you again, with bruising force, and that just makes you whimper against his lips. His fingers move faster and faster, and your hands hold onto him like a lifeline. Your sounds start getting louder and louder, still not yet being their usual volume, but Rafe takes them in like medals. Every single one of them.

“I’ll stop.” He warns you, making you look at him in surprise. “If you don’t ask for it, I’ll stop, and we’ll go to sleep.”

And the look you give him… Rafe could’ve melted right there and then. You plead with your teary eyes, small sobs of pleasure leaving your mouth, as you almost pout at him. Rafe was ready to give you the orgasm and more. Anything in the world could be yours if you kept it up. But you decide to shake your head.

“No?” He asks you, “No, you don’t want to come?” He tests you, “Or no, you don’t want me to stop?”

He pinches your clit when you don’t answer, and you, finally, let out a real moan. He can tell that you’re getting closer. Your pussy is impossibly wet, your breathing is irregular, you're holding onto him as if he’ll let you fall to the ground at any second, and then you tense up. Rafe, though it pains him to, stops moving right away.

“I guess we’ll go to sleep, then.”

“No, no, no…” You whisper at him, pulling at him with your hands as if scared that he’ll disappear. Rafe leans in as you pull him by his nape, and you peck his lips. Rafe kisses you for more time, and you start to feel everything. His naked chest against you, his tight hold on your waist, his lips on yours, his dick entirely inside you, and his other hand paused at your clit. He pulls away, and you sigh.

“Say it, then.” Rafe encourages.

“P… Please make me come.” You whisper against his lips, so low that Rafe’s ear almost doesn’t register, but he takes it as enough.

“Of course, baby.” He kisses you at the end of the sentence, “Anything for my pretty girl, yeah?”

You nod at him, and he starts slowly at first. As soon as the speed and force come back, you’re too aware of every single thing and come incredibly fast. Rafe holds you as he keeps going, thrusting into you deeply as he forces you to ride out your orgasm as he finds his, and, the second you start making your overstimulated whines, Rafe is done for. He thrusts a final time and comes inside you, and he grunts against the skin of your shoulder.

His breathing takes some time to calm down, and you relax your hold on him. Rafe takes his hand away from your pussy and lays it over the table to stand up straight. Your hand falls from his head as he does so, and you grab his wrist from that same arm. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, and the wind of the sea hits your wet face. Gosh, what a mess.

You two don’t talk for a bit, but Rafe doesn’t take long to feel himself get back to normal. He is careful when he pulls out of you and pulls his shorts back up. He’s slow to let you go, making sure that you can stand on your own already, and he grabs the bottoms of your bikini from the floor. He hands it to you, and when he goes to pick you up, you stop him.

“Rafe, the table.” You tell him, looking at it.

“What?”

You laugh and point at the table you just had sex on, “We got to clean the table. We have every meal on that thing”. Rafe sighs as he looks at it.

You put your bikini back on while Rafe trusts you to stand by yourself, and he cleans the table very well, to your request (also known as orders). Once he’s done, he goes to wash his hands, and you move towards the inside of the boat. You close the door and lock it behind you, and look over to find Rafe drying his hands on the kitchen cloth.

“Don't forget the other doors,” you tell him.

“What other doors?” He asks, making you frown.

“You said they were unloc-” And he smiles at you.

Asshole.

Rafe throws the now clean, once again, cloth onto the counter, and you kiss his arm. “Let’s go,” you whisper at him, and he nods.

Both of you are about to get the best night of sleep in your lives.

[madameaug]

SuperMan Super Papa

pairing: Elderly Clark Kent x Elderly Wife Reader (ft grandkids)

Retirement had definitely exceeded Clark's expectations. He wasn't sure if he would have the opportunity to retire. With the ever-growing popularity of the Justice Gang, dimensional threats seemed to grow as well. Throughout the years, Clark aided the team, but he enjoyed patrolling Earth. Multiverses and galaxies weren't his thing. Plus, it was far from home. Not just Metropolisis, but the home that he had built with you.

Four years into your relationship, and technically seven months into your marriage, you welcomed your son Jonathan into the world. While the pregnancy was relatively simple, the idea of raising a metahuman son concerned both you and Clark. You both witnessed firsthand how individuals with agendas and power can persuade the entire world to turn against you. As new parents, it was a scary thought. That also played a big part in Superman's fading from the spotlight.

Not that anyone in the public knew that he had a family to protect. Clark just never wanted it to get to the point where his family was in danger and he was helpless to do anything. He still contributed heavily to the Daily Planet. Grinding and rising up the ranks to become a senior columnist for twelve years. The work-life balance was better. He was able to make family dinner on time, attend Jonathan's soccer matches, and get more than three hours of sleep.

Clark was grateful for the choices he made, as they led him to enjoy the mundane moments back home in the fields of Smallville, Kansas. A giggly toddler on his shoulders, whose screams were warming Clark's heart. Lifting her over his head, Clark had one hand on his stomach as she extended her arms.

"Higher! Papa higher!"

Clark was getting ready to fulfil her request when he caught your knowing eyes. You stood on the porch with your other grandchild, burping him gently.

"I think Nana's cobbler is done. How about we get a slice?" Easily distracting the toddler, Layla was ready to be put down. Her little legs are carrying her to your legs. Her face stuffed in your skirt, you rubbed her frizzy curls and ushered her in the house.

Cutting a small square for the four-year-old to eat, Clark placed the plate down when the screen door creaked open. Jonathan stood with a smile on his face. He was a carbon copy of Clark, except with a summer tan that never went away. Blue eyes, black curls, and a heart of gold.

“I’ll get the diaper bag,” you offered, moving toward the kitchen. Your joints cracked in protest, but nothing a little peppermint oil and Epsom salt couldn’t handle later.

“Thanks, baby,” Clark said, kneeling on the floor as Layla squirmed in the chair. “You’re gonna have fun going home with Daddy, huh?”

Layla’s little face twisted like a storm cloud moving in fast. She looked at her papa with eyes full of betrayal, her bottom lip already wobbling.

“No,” she whispered.

“Sweet pea—”

“NOOO!” she wailed, throwing herself backward into Clark’s chest like he was the last life raft on a sinking ship. “I don’t wanna go! I wanna stay with Papa! FOREVER!”

You paused in the hallway, clutching the diaper bag with a sigh. Oh, here we go.

Clark rubbed her back gently, exchanging a look with you that said, Not again. “Layla, we talked about this, remember? Your dad’s coming to get you, and you’ll be back next weekend—”

“Noooo!” she sobbed, whole body trembling as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “Tell Daddy to come back when I’m a grown-up!”

Your son, Jonathan, stepped closer, holding a baby carrier. He looked equally guilty and exhausted.

Hey, hey, what’s going on, bug?” he asked, kneeling beside them. “Did you not have fun with Nana and Papa?”

“She had too much fun,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Clark looked up at his son, exasperated but defeated. Layla clung to him like a baby koala, hiccuping through the worst meltdown of her week. He, too found himself getting a little emotional.

Clark stood to his full height, with Layla in his arms. He was prepared to try coax her off him, but stopped himself.

“Come back next week,” Clark said flatly, patting his granddaughter’s back like a white flag. “She’s not done.”

“Dad,” Jonathan groaned.

“She’s not done, son,” Clark repeated, eyes serious behind his glasses. “You see this? I don't want to upset her anymore. She can until she's ready to leave.”

Jordan looked at you, like maybe you’d talk some sense into him, but you just shrugged and headed toward the fridge.

“Well,” you said, popping it open, “guess I need to buy more dinosaur nuggets.”

A/N: I've been inspired by the tik tok with the grandparents spoiling their grandbabys.

[lubnabowsandpoetry]

Only You

Jealous!Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x reader (angst, established relationship, they're sort of communicating again, tw: unhealthy habits, ed)

Ghost wants to change for you, be the man you deserve. Meanwhile you involuntary decide to go out. Actually having fun tonight wasn't in your cards, especially with a man who isn't Simon. A restless night leads him straight to you.

Part V of Hollow Faces

‘’Get out of the fucking bed.’’

Your face peeked out of the blanket to see your friend Rosa standing in your bedroom. Her voice sounded pissed, yet her face was full of pity.

‘’How the fuck did you even get in?’’

She rolled her eyes while she began to rummage through your closet

‘’By using the front door…?’’

‘’You know that’s not what I meant.’’ With your arm slung over your eyes you tried to block out the last bits of sunlight. It was starting to get dark and you had done nothing today but lay in bed. Which is also what you did yesterday.

And the day before yesterday.

The world and work could wait. You just wanted to lay in your misery like you have been doing for the past few weeks. Crying almost every night was routine at this point. God forbid you also wanted to lock yourself in your room for the remainder of the month. Or forever.

All of a sudden a piece of cloth got thrown in your face.

‘’What the-‘’

You shoved the dress off of your face and saw it was a halter neck, little black dress. Quite basic, still timeless and looks amazing with the right accessories.

‘’We’re going out!’’

Rose shoved one of your pairs of kitten heels, that were tucked away in your closet, in your face.

‘’Absolutely not.’’ You turned your back to her while attempting to fall asleep again.

‘’The shoes or the ‘going out’ part?’’

‘’The ‘going out’ part. Leave me alone so I can be sad and miserable while binge-watching garbage shows.’’

Meanwhile the sun had gone down, leaving you and her in the darkness. You loved being alone, especially when life got too much to bear. But being alone always turned into ghosting everyone you knew and being stuck in solitude. The bedroom walls became a cage you were too comfortable in.

‘’No. My colleagues invited me to go out to this bar I have never been to. You have to come with me. It should be fun, let’s just do pre-drinks here. I know some guy I work with would love to talk to you.’’

‘’Not interested.’’ You would rather blow out your brains than try and date again. As of now you technically were still with Simon. Or maybe that was just in your head.

‘’I’ll pay for the drinks when we get there and we’ll leave the second you want to.’’

‘’If that’s what it takes to get you out of my apartment.’’

You were already tipsy when you walked into the bar with Rosa. There was nothing special to the place. Dimly-lit, lots of clatter and the sound of banter. Your heels clicked on the mahogany floor, your dress fluttered and accentuated your waist. With eyeliner on your waterline, golden jewellery and cherry red lips, you felt like you were wearing a mask. The sadness behind your eyes weren’t visible to anyone but you. To the rest of the world, you were a gorgeous girl at a bar. So for tonight, you could pretend. Being tipsy already helped. Rosa led you to the booth where her colleagues were sitting at. She tried to introduce the group to you while you were slowly zoning out.

Until you saw a familiar face. It was a guy who lived in your old neighbourhood, the one you lived in until you were 19. He recognized you too, apparently. You sat next to him, sparking up a conversation. It was friendly, just conversations about the past, how you two were doing now. His name was Marco, he was tall, dark-haired, average looking. Worked with the company for a few years now. Nothing too interesting. You were only intrigued because of the alcohol in your system. 

Two hours later you noticed you had only been talking to him. Rosa went outside to smoke with some others and you two were sitting closer than before in the booth. Trying to keep some distance, you suggested sitting by the bar on the stools in the disguise of wanting more drinks. When you noticed you were stumbling a little you felt a flair of panic well up inside you. You did not plan on getting drunk with a bunch of strangers in a bar you had never heard of. You were on the edge between tipsy and drunk. Or maybe a little drunk. Marco pulled out a stool for you and helped you sit on it. Luckily he only ordered two beers and you two continued your conversation. You tried to be blind to his clues. It was obvious he was enjoying his time a bit too much with you. His lingering touches felt like bruises on your skin. It would have been fine if the touches were just friendly. You thought you two were acting like friends. You laughed at his jokes, would hit him lightly when he teased you. That Marco thought you looked hot didn’t even cross your mind at first.

Simon roamed through the streets with his hands in his coat pockets. It was another sleepless night.

Bloodshot eyes that burned, hood over his head.

They gave him a psychologist. The army gave him that for free, obviously. So why not utilise it? That’s what Price recommended him years ago. He had scoffed at the idea. The mere thought of having to share your feeling with a stranger made him want to puke.

The hopeless look in your dimmed eyes were worse though.

So he put his fears and his pride aside. At 17:00 today he walked into the office of a psychologist, whose name was already forgotten. She spoke to him softly, as if he was a kid. The voice was meant to comfort him, yet it felt like chalk on a blackboard. Her pen would annoyingly scrape against her notebook. Everything about her bothered him.

 Yet he won’t forget today for a while. This wasn’t some therapist who worked specifically for the army, the one you’d go to for the standard psych evaluations. This was a civilian psychologist who specialized in PTSD, depression, anxiety, and childhood trauma. She mentioned something else: C-PTSD.

Simon had never heard that term.

He didn’t really want to know what that meant.

He thought of it as a test. He could pass this, he had done this before. Just answer vaguely, tell them what they need to hear. Don’t get send to a psych ward.

All so he can walk out thinking he was fixed.

And then she struck a chord he forgot he had. It all started with questions about his father.

‘’Why does it matter?’’ He had asked, voice full of uncertainty, laced with venom. This was uncharted territory. He had talked about his childhood a little to only one other person. And that person was currently not speaking to him.

‘’It matters. That is why I am asking. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’’

There was a minute of complete silence. Simon stared at his paper cup, the coffee was atrocious, but it gave him something to hold on to.

‘’You didn’t really answer my other question. What was your childhood like? Describe it to me’’

Violent. A nightmare. Bruises

‘’Uneventful.’’

She sighed heavily and put her glasses down.

‘’Why are you here?’’

He didn’t have the effort to lie or be stubborn anymore.

‘’My girl broke up with me. Sort of. She wanted space. I get in my head, I can’t leave the warzone where it belongs. I take it home with me. We both suffered, she couldn’t take it anymore. Something in me still wants to believe I can get fixed so I can be more of a human.’’

‘’You could start by perhaps answering some of my questions. Don’t feel obliged. Just try to open up a little.’’

Simon didn’t pour his heart out. He started telling her bits and pieces about how his life was like when he was a boy. Then about the reason on why he decided to join the army. Where he thought his problems started. Betrayals, frauds and dying soldiers. He suggested he had trust issues. (Among other things). Before he knew it, the hour was up. The woman smiled up at him as they both stood. She shook his hand firmly and thanked him for his candor. She hoped she would see him again next week. Simon nodded, walked out of the building, stepped into his car.

Nothing was wrong.

It went well.

He didn’t cry. He wasn’t zoning out on the drive back to his apartment. His hands definitely weren’t shaking. His step only faltered because of the faulty pavement, not because he wanted to fall to floor and let the world swallow him whole. 

Only when the front door closed behind him did he let himself break down. The wooden floor became his blanket as he cried soundlessly. After a while he stood up and went to the bathroom. His reflection stared back, there was no ounce of life in his face.

His fist collided with the bathroom mirror. Shards of glass flew in the air. Little pieces littered the floor. The mirror still showed his lifeless face, now with cracks in it. The blood oozing out of his knuckles spilled onto the porcelain sink. He knew it was going to be another sleepless night.

A walk might make him tired.

The quiet streets, the dark sky. 

Then he saw a few people smoking outside of a bar he hadn’t seen before. There was nothing special about, just a regular bar. A drink could help him go to sleep.

One drink won’t hurt.

He noticed as soon as he stepped inside that the people in there had been here for a while. Some were stumbling to go throw up in the bathroom, others were loudly having their conversations. Everyone seemed at least a little drunk.  

Simon should have turned around right then. But he couldn’t ignore the woman by the bar who had hair like yours. Her frame seemed familiar. Her laugh had echoed in his mind before.

That woman was you.

You were talking to the man sitting next to you. You shoved him playfully after he teased you and laughed a little too loud at his esoteric jokes.

The man’s hand suddenly came up to brush the hair away from you face. You didn’t stop him, too inebriated to care.

Something dark and ugly twisted in Simon.

The bartender came up to you and the guy, handing you two the beers. Simon frowned at that. It was clear the guy had bought you your drink. The guy was too touchy for Simon’s liking. Everything in him made him want to drag the guy away from you. The other man wore polished shoes, expensive and neat. His shirt had not a single wrinkle in it. He had a typical million dollar smile. The man looked straight out of a magazine.

Simon watched it all unfold before him. He was just a bystander who couldn’t do anything to make you come closer.

The way you smiled, the way you laughed and the way you talked so carefree pulled at his heartstrings. Simon’s face hardened at the sight. He hadn’t seen you like this in weeks. All this time, was it him holding you back? He clenched his fists to maintain his composure. Counting the months he spent without you, the weeks, the days, endlessly. It was all he could do these days. Think about you. 

So seeing you enjoy your time with a man who wasn’t him, like Simon had never even existed, hurt his soul in way it never hurt before. The sight of you looking all gorgeous for somebody else made his heart tachycardic. Rubbing his hand over his chest to try and calm himself down while his eyes kept shifting over between Mr. Perfect and you. Fury overtook his mind. Not at you, never at you. But at the piece of shit who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. The guy who kept leaning closer and closer to you because you needed to ‘’speak a little louder’’.

Simon decided to do what he did best: become a shadow. His face was obscured by his hood, his feet walked off to the only quiet area of the bar. As a result, you were perfectly in his view. He needed to see for himself how you were doing.

Watching you potentially move on while he was adamant that it was always going to be you was killing him a little.

It’s gut-wrenching, you thought, because as soon as your glass was empty and you started to sober up a little you were reminded why you were drinking in the first place. The man in your mind wasn’t the one you were exchanging glances with. Marco offered to take you on a date tomorrow, you had politely declined. Distractedly, your paranoid couldn’t help but shake the feeling of being watched. You have been feeling it for about 20 minutes. You tried to look around the bar in way that wasn’t conspicuous. Luckily you were with a guy who was a bit too self-absorbed to notice you weren’t listening to another one of his stories.

Your eyes found his dark brown ones. He was standing in the corner behind Marco. Far enough to stay undetected, close enough so you could see the haunted look in his eyes. You let out a shaky breath. For the first time in weeks, you two were in the same room. This wasn’t how you imagined it would go. Simon nodded solemnly at you and quietly exited the bar. You were aware of who he was. No one could find him unless he wanted to be found. Ghost wanted you to know he had seen you.

‘’Fuck.’’ You muttered. That caught Marco’s attention, he asked what was wrong. You stood up and told him there was an emergency. You thanked him for the drink without sparing him another glance.

Heels clicked hurriedly on the pavement. The streetlights were blurry in your vision. You regretted not taking a jacket with you. The cold air raised goose bumps on your skin. You were shaking a little when you found him in an alleyway. Per usual, his hand held a cigarette. His face was hidden in the shadows, yet you knew it was him. His black jacket, the hood over his head, his broad shoulders, you could recognize him even if you were blind.

‘’Simon?’’ Your voice was fragile, as if the cold air had tried to take it away.

It made him exhale shakily. He could act tough and strong all he wanted, but in front of you he could never hide his pain.

His gruff voice rumbled from his chest, as if he hadn’t used it for months. Or like he had been screaming mere hours ago. 

‘’Darling.’’ It rolled off his tongue so naturally.

You hesitated, what could you even say in this situation?

‘’…How have you been?’’

‘’Not too great. You seem to be doing just fine though. I’m glad you’re doing good.’’

‘’Simon…’’

‘’Nah it’s fine, love.’’ He clicked his tongue in disapproval before he continued:

‘’He’s nothing next to me.’’

He tossed the cigarette bud on the ground and crushed it with his boot.

‘’That guy is no one to me. He’s my friend’s colleague who used to live three blocks away from me. That was like years ago. I know what you’re implying but it wasn’t that.’’

‘’You don’t have to lie to me, you two seemed awfully close.’’ He chuckled bitterly. With his hands in his pockets he looked at the dirty floor and mumbled:

‘’Didn’t like the way he touched you.’’

Simon’s gaze found yours then. The way you stood there shaking because of the cold; making his chest tighten. Silently he slipped his jacket off of his shoulder and stepped closer. He helped you slip your arms in the sleeves, then stepped away again.

‘’I know you didn’t like that. You know I get friendly when I’m drunk.’’

Noticing he wasn’t convinced you softly added:

‘’didn’t like his touches either. Would’ve much rather have you.’’

The ghost of a smirk lingered on Simon’s face at that. His hands slowly came up to gently hold your face. Deliberately done to make you come closer. One of his calloused hands went lower and gripped your waist firmly.

‘’Could have fooled me, thought you’d much rather leave with him.’’

He walked forwards, making you stumble back into the wall behind you. He made sure his hand was at the back of your head before your back hit the wall. Without a thought, you clung your hands his biceps. Simon’s gruff voice was the only thing that could be heard in the night.

‘’Were you even aware of what I was going to do to him?’’

The lieutenant you knew didn’t mind getting his hand bloody every now and then.

‘’I think I have the slightest idea of what you would have done to him.’’

Simon saw the coy look on your face, the stumbling and the haze in your eyes. He created a little distance, his hand leaving your face.

‘’Call your friend, ‘m taking you home.’’

‘’Thanks, but my place isn’t far from here.’’

‘’Wasn’t a suggestion, love.’’

His hand moved to linger close to your back. Barely touching.

‘’Besides, you’re drunk. You’re not making it far, love.’’

Silence filled the space between you. Except this time it was comfortable. His eyes darted towards any sign of suspicious movement on the streets. His hand ghosted over your hip. You two kept walking at a slow pace until your feet were killing you. You knew you’d see blisters on your feet in the morning. Simon didn’t even hesitate before he smoothly picked you up, carrying you bridal style. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck.

How could he even falter in his step like he did hours ago when he held something so precious in his arms?

The lieutenant realized that no fear would compare to the fear of losing you.

Even if you did walk away, he’d never stop protecting you. He could never not care.

Finally seeing you’re front door made you upset that the bar wasn’t further away. Gently, he put you down and unlocked your door.

Fuck, he still had the keys to the apartment. You had forgotten about that.

He held the door open for you and held out his hand to help  you over the threshold.

You then turned to face him. He stood there with uncertainty in his eyes. As if this wasn’t the home he had lived in for the past three years.

Invite him in, a voice said in your head. Looking up at him you saw the Simon you wished had come back weeks ago.

‘’I talked to someone today.’’

He paused for a beat.

‘’A psychologist.’’

‘’I wanted to let you know, but we’re not really on speaking terms.’’

‘’I’m really proud of you.’’ A small smile formed on his face at that.

‘’This must be really difficult. I’m here for you, truly am. And thank you for bringing me home and keeping me warm.’’ A little laugh escaped past your lips, making Simon’s eyes linger on them. You handed him back his jacket.

Then wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly like you wanted to hide him in your ribcage forever. Simon didn’t hesitate to hug you back. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your familiar scent brought him a little closer to the heaven he lost.

[frogtemple]

☆ past meets present ☆

summary: The youngest Winchester left the life years ago, cutting contact for safety reasons. Til' one day, her brothers show up out of nowhere, surprised by what they see.

word count: 1.6k

It was Sunday night. y/n was trailing back and forth in the kitchen, meal prepping for the week ahead when the doorbell rang. She paused, froze actually. There were never any visitors...

She reached to turn the stove off momentarily, then made an effort to take small, quiet steps towards the door. She crouch-walked her way to the side window, taking a barely noticeable peek through the window where she saw a very familiar looking car in the driveway.

Now knowing what to expect behind the front door, she stood up abruptly, making her way to whip it open.

"Hey, there y/n/n." greeted the two boys she'd never have trouble forgetting.

"W-what are you doing here?" she questioned. "How did you even find me?"

"Actually, it's okay, you don't have to answer that." she breathed out.

"So, no hi, hello? It's been 6 years y/n/n." Dean sassed with some fake hurt in his voice.

"Hi." She stated plainly. "Um, sorry just, isn't this going against everything- wait. Is something bad happening?"

"Why would you say that?" Dean asked as if he were clueless.

"Cause, the only reason you would technically be here right now is if there was a case." y/n stated the facts.

"Can't we just be stopping by to see our baby sis?" Sam shrugged playing the innocence card with his eyes.

"Hi Sam..."

"Look, can we maybe take this conversation inside?" Dean started getting antsy, looking around at the neighborhood from the porch.

"Of course." y/n sarcastically smiled, opening the door wide to let the two men inside.

Sam and Dean ducked inside and looked around the entry way simultaneously while y/n closed the door.

"I will say, you have no idea how good it is to see you." She broke the act, going to hug the both of them separately. They of course gave in and drew out a much needed reunion.

"Come in, I'm actually in the middle of something, so we can talk while I wrap this up." y/n motioned them to follow her towards the kitchen.

"Wow, so you cook now? Healthy stuff?" Dean was already trying to push her buttons.

"Haha, very funny. Gotta grow up sometime, I guess." she turned back to finish boiling her pot on the stove.

"A-and this is, your house?"

"Yes. Actually we just moved in about 3 months ago."

"Hold up, we?" Dean questioned.

"We, as in my boyfriend and I." y/n said in full confidence. She would've thought twice saying that years back, knowing her brothers (Dean mostly) would have freaked out.

Dean was taken back, so much had changed since the 18 year old high schooler he saw 6 years ago. After receiving a full ride to the University of CU Boulder, y/n decided she wanted to cut all ties to the hunting life and focus on a path of her own. She had never gotten the chance to do that ever in her life, but after talking over the idea with her main guardians- Sam and Dean, she wasn't expecting the downsides to follow.

"No contact, whatsoever. Anything that ties to us outside of this is a risk. So, if this is really what you wanna do, think about that." She remembers Dean's words in her head like it was yesterday. One of the hardest decisions she ever went back and forth to make. Leaving the closest people she knew, leaving the closest thing she had to a family.

But here she was 6 years later.

"Soooo, where is this said boyfriend?" Sam asked, looking around.

"He went out to the store, should be back soon." y/n breathed out, ushering the guys to sit and changed the subject.

"You have no idea, how hard it's been." she got slightly choked up.

"What? What do you mean?" Sam sympathized.

"y'know, to not be able to call you guys and update you on the good stuff. All the life events I've gone through, they have been so nice but sad at the same time. Cause... I haven't had you guys around to share it with."

"Oh, y/n/n. I'm sorry, it's been hard for us too. You've grown so much." Sam couldn't believe it. y/n smiled back, feeling nostalgic.

"but, remember... we warned you that if you chose this..." Dean started.

"I know. I know, and I respect that. It's for the best, but doesn't make it any easier." she gave a slight sarcastic laugh.

"So!" Sam shifted, trying to lighten the mood. "You're uh, out of college? Working?"

"Yeah! Um, I secured a position with the parks conservation team out here. It's been great." she nodded. "School was good to me, had a great time n' all." She continued, rambling off a few memories that had been missed by them.

"And my graduation ceremony was cool too. They uh, popped a few bottles of champagne up on stage and the marching band actually played a Queen song..."

"I know... we were there." Dean spoke up.

y/n looked at him in disbelief. "You were? Why didn't you say anything, o-or come see me?"

"Had to still be safe. But, couldn't miss our little sis walking across the stage." A small smirk found the creases of Dean's lips.

The three continued to reminisce for a bit. Sam and Dean updated y/n on some of the crazy cases she missed, for the better. While y/n went down a short timeline of things they had missed.

It got to a quiet point as y/n finished up her cooking, when she remembered her burning question. "Okay. What's the reason you guys are actually here?" she raised an eyebrow.

The boys went silent for a moment. "C'mon, I can see the lingering tension. Somethings here, isn't it?" she urged.

On queue, her brothers let out an in sync sigh. Dean ran his hands over his face in an attempt to relieve some stress. Sam adjusted his sleeves. They shared the same look at each other, nodding to 'you tell her' 'no, how bout' you tell her' before Sam huffed and looked up at her with a worried expression. This was the last thing he wanted to happen, to go and interrupt the life she had made for herself with some stupid hunting crap.

"There's a chance that you're being looked for... There's some rogue angels that are trying to track down Cas, and they think we have information on his whereabouts. You too." Sam explained.

y/n took a moment to digest the information before speaking. "Shit..."

Just as you were about to ask more, the boyfriend came home. "Hey, who's car is parked out fro-" He stopped in his tracks when he saw his girlfriend accompanied by two large men, that he did not know.

"Um, what is this?" He dared to speak, gulping quietly.

"Miles, these are my brothers- Sam and Dean. They're in town for a while on business, and decided to stop by." Y/n fluidly created a little white lie for the time being.

"Oh, my gosh. You serious? Wow, it's nice to finally meet you both." His demeanor changed as he held his hand out. Sam returned the gesture, so did Dean, except he towered over him a bit.

"Miles, is it?" Dean started.

"Dean-" y/n warned, seeing where his attitude was leading. She knew he couldn't help himself in interrogating the boy a bit.

"Yes sir. And Dean? I'm assuming the one who has great taste in cars from what I've seen in the driveway." Miles charmed.

Dean couldn't help but smirk a bit at the compliment. "Yeah." he blushed.

"I don't see too many impalas around that year. For a '67 it looks like it's in great shape! I've actually been fixing up an old '68 Nova for a collector recently, it's quite the project, but fun." Miles rambled.

"If you can't already tell what his profession is..." y/n chimed in.

"You a mechanic?" Dean asked, curiosity growing.

"You bet. Been learning day by day for the past 7 years." He smiled proudly. "Anyways, it's great to finally see some of y/n's family. Are you both in town for long? Maybe we could sit down for dinner one of these days."

"Oh, we're not sure yet, but yeah, sounds like a plan." Sam says.

"Hey baby, let me finish up here, I'll walk them out and we'll uh... plan something!" Y/n interrupted.

"Ok, sure." He gave a gentle hand to her before departing upstairs for a shower.

"Y'know what, I like him." Dean nodded over dramatically. "Didn't doubt you would." Y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

The brothers continued to discuss their plans. They'd be staying around town until they knew y/n was safe, with frequent check in's of course. "I'm sorry this had to come about, we just want to make sure you're safe." Sam reasoned.

"I understand.... I just. I need, to tell Miles. About what we do." y/n carefully stated.

"No. That's not a good idea." Dean stopped her.

"Please.... Our relationship is one of the most important things to me. He deserves to know, I don't want something to happen and have to explain myself."

"We can't stop her. It's her decision." Sam turned to Dean. "Just, if you do, remind him how much of a risk it is... just to know."

"I get it." she said, lowering her gaze- realizing the weight of the situation and how fast it came down.

"Remember, keep an eye out for anything. We'll see you tomorrow." Dean pointed out.

"Of course." she nodded.

After saying goodbye to her brothers, y/n headed upstairs to Miles. "Hey! How was your day?" he asked cheerfully.

"Good, you?"

"Yeah, almost finished with Kolski's car. Hopefully that'll make him one happy guy." He exclaimed, rubbing a towel vigorously around his wet hair. "Such a surprise that your brothers are in town!"

"Yeah, about them..."

"What. What's the matter?" Miles asked, head titled.

"I have something to tell you... about my life."

[scramjettracy]

So that first crush you definitely do remember - tell us more? Someone famous? Someone you knew? Someone you still know? Was it Penelope?

Sigh. No it was not and never has been Lady Penelope, don’t start that again.

This feels kinda excessively personal… but… well I guess it won’t do any harm to be honest (she already has plenty cause to be cackling at my constantly making a fool of myself from wherever she is now).

We had a family friend who I knew most of my childhood, she used to come and stay with us in the holidays when Dad and Lee were away and we had the best times. She was 6 years older than me although I was almost always taller! She was dinky but feisty! I didn’t exactly view her as a sibling, didn’t see her enough, more like a hero. Honestly? I idolised her.

Adventurous doesn’t cover it - she was pretty much wild 🤭 She seemed to have no fear of anything. We’d get into such Situations. She was sharp as a knife - nothing got past her - but she was sweet and kind too, y’know? She was never mean when I couldn’t keep up or I was *cough* maybe just a li’l scared.

She always had her hair some incredibly bright colour too - the pink suited her best I reckon. But she had them all. One time she brought bright blue dye along and we bleached my hair so we could match and it was super cool that day but the following morning… oh MY it faded so green… and not a good kind of Thunderbird Two green but kinda pond slime shade y’know? I was so embarrassed but she said she loved it and honestly I’d have painted my whole self green in that moment if she thought it was a good thing.

She was the most fascinating human I ever knew - bright and shining and full of life. I wanted to be with her all the time… but more than that I wanted to BE her!

But she was six years ahead of me, and when she went to join the airforce… and the holidays arrived and she didn’t… I honestly thought I’d die of the heartbreak. We wrote though - actual paper letters. At least twice a month. I kept them all hidden under a loose floorboard under my bed because Virgil was so curious and when the mail came he tried to read them too. Thinking back maybe it was unfair of me to prevent him - it wasn’t like there was anything in any way private in them and she was his friend too but she sent them to ME and that felt so precious.

When we lost Mom she was committed to an exercise and couldn’t get back for the funeral but she sent me a letter and I carried it with me in my breast pocket all the way through - helped me be strong for my brothers, y’know?

Anyway, I joined up - went a slightly different career route because I ended up on the test piloting division and she went out to, uh, fight. But then I had to go out there too - and fate put us in the same squadron.

It was an awful time for so many reasons but also… it feels kinda shameful to admit it but I was having the time of my life. It was just like old times only I was maybe kinda more capable of impressing a girl than I had been when I was a teenager 😏 not that she ever gave any sign she was at all impressed - I was probably always going to be her little kid friend. But those weeks where we were working together as teammates, as equals just like I’d always dreamed? Perfect. She thought I was a good pilot. And even though the world was so dark it felt lighter knowing she was nearby. It wasn’t a long time, in the end. But it was an important time and I’ll always treasure it.

So, uh, yes. I definitely do remember.

[demonogeny]

Blorbos at the beach

I went to the beach with my wife and I drew some Roberts on the sand, slightly edited the pics for better visibility. And I took a pic of these drawings I one day printed and put on my phonecase, I took my blorbos to the beach.

[unnonexistence]

i swear to god the universe is trying to prevent me from getting on anxiety meds

[thebluebygracieabrams]

when the competition is making me cry in 10 seconds and your opponents are my parents

[orcelito]

Bought a stupid suit thing. Disgustang.

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon’s sweet wife

seen other people talk about the task force finding out about Simon’s bird at first in subtle ways so I made this

It started with the lunches.

At first, no one thought much of it. Simon had brought the occasional sandwich before, nothing out of the ordinary. But then it changed. Out went the basic bread and meat, and in came proper meals. Lasagna. Curry. A neatly packed container of something warm and homemade, tucked right beside a little folded note Simon was far too quick to snatch out of sight when Johnny leaned over, grinning.

“C’mon, Simon,” he teased, voice full of curiosity. “Just let us have a peek. We wanna know who’s makin’ you lunch like that, eh?”

Kyle nodded, snickering.

“Piss off,” Simon grumbled, big hand curling protectively around the note like it was a classified file. He didn’t care that they were watching, didn’t even look up. Just reread your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth beneath the mask.

“Ay, Johnny, look! you can see a heart through the paper!” Kyle laughed, catching the way the light hit the thin paper just right, revealing the faint outline of a heart signed with your name.

After that, it became a bit of a running joke. Not that Simon gave them anything to work with. But the mystery only deepened when, during a three week deployment at another unit, a care package showed up with his name on it.

To say the guys hovered would be an understatement. Johnny and Kyle practically sat on either side of him like vultures, trying to act casual. Price stayed back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers, looking disinterested but Simon could feel his eyes, just as nosy as the others.

The box had all the essentials: snacks, cold weather gear, a familiar blanket from home. A couple of your sweet notes, some of his favorite tea in bulk. But what really got them going were the Polaroids tucked in between the layers of stuff.

Kyle caught a glimpse of one. Simon sitting on a porch step with you in his lap, your smile soft, his arm wrapped tight around your waist.

Johnny elbowed him. “Alright, Simon. When ’re we gonna meet this mystery missus of yours?”

“She wouldn’t like you.” He grunted in response 

“What is she, a grump like you?”

Hardly.

The real surprise came a few weeks later, when a sweet bird showed up at base asking for Lieutenant Simon Riley.

Price was the first to see you. He’d expected someone with a set it glare, reserved, maybe a little sharp around the edges. Instead, you walked right up to Simon with a warm smile, kissed his cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world, and handed him a jacket. 

Simon knew Price, Kyle, and Johnny were watching from around the corner. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if half the rookies and a few of the other sergeants were too.

But none of that mattered.

Not when his sweet girl was standing in front of him.

“Why are you here, baby?” he asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You forgot your jacket,” you said, brow furrowed. “And I heard it was supposed to be cold today. I didn’t want you to get sick.”

Your voice alone cracked something in him, and it was impossible not to smile under the mask.

“Y’know I would’ve been fine, love.”

Still, he took the jacket from your hands with a quiet “thank you,” promising to wear it, walking you down the hallway before watching you turn and head back out.

Well— not before Johnny and Kyle caught you at the corner, peering over the wall like a couple of kids up to no good.

They didn’t say much, but by the time Simon heard about it later, you’d already agreed to let them come over for dinner sometime.

He just shook his head. Not even surprised by their antics. But he didn’t say no either.

Because you’d said yes.

So next Saturday, he guessed he’d be setting an extra few plates at the table for Johnny, Kyle, and probably Price, too. 

[writersrkive]

Don't shut up | Spencer Reid

summary: Spencer is used to people who constantly tell him to shut up, but somehow, he feels even more embarrassed and sad when he thinks you want him to stop talking after looking at the tired and confused expression you have when he's trying to help you. The thing is you hate when people do that to Spence and would spend years just listening to his voice.

genre: fluff

pairing: Early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: mentions of the team shutting Spencer down. Derek and JJ being a little mean to him when he's spreading information. Spencer being a cutie potato. Mention of a stomachache and its causes (mention of miscarriage as one of the causes, but nothing happens). Reader not being a native english speaker, but just a slight mention.

a/n: Dr. Spencer Reid is a genius.... I am not. I literally had to search for information and copy-paste here in some parts, so if there's misinformation, it's Google's fault, lmao. I wrote this yesterday when I was about to sleep, so I'm sorry if something is wrong with the writing (even though I already edited). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Navigation Criminal Minds masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Spencer and you arrived early that morning. He hated being late for anything. He couldn't afford to be late if he wanted to stick as closely as possible to his assigned schedule, especially because he took public transport. On the other hand, you had no choice but to arrive early when you woke up at four in the morning thanks to a severe stomachache and couldn't go back to sleep.

That's how your conversation started. Your genius workmate was surprised to see you, first hour in the morning, when he walked in the office, even before Hotch arrived.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. You couldn't deny that the expression was too cute for your own good.

“Yeah… I think so. It's not even the stomach ache that bothers me, it's the fact that even if I was sleepy, I couldn't fall asleep again. You know? That happens to me a lot. Once I open my eyes, I can't go back to sleep. I've also been feeling mildly unwell for a week, but even though the medication is controlling it, it doesn't stop."

At this point, he already set up his desk, leaving his briefcase on his own chair to walk over to you and sit at your desk, next to the chair you were sitting in, to listen to you attentively and answer.

“The brain works with different phases of sleep: light sleep, deep sleep, and REM sleep. The cycle usually restarts every eighty to one hundred minutes, and we typically have four to six cycles each night.”

Hotch came out of the elevator and walked upstairs after both of you waved at him, and he let out a soft “good morning”. Emily arrived a few seconds later. You greeted her too, as she took place on her desk, but that didn't stop your conversation.

“So, it's completely normal that we wake up in the middle of the night because of that process, but if it is frequent, for three months or more, it may be a symptom of insomnia.”

Your view went to the floor, and your head nodded in a semi-unconscious movement, because although you knew that your sleep cycle was ruined by work, you had not come to that conclusion, maybe that was it.

“Now, the stomachache…” He said, taking one pen from your pencil case to concentrate. He usually never took other people's belongings or shared his own stuff because of the germs, but somehow, after a few years of working together, he had come to have a good amount of closeness with you to borrow some stuff from you. Months ago, it hadn't gone unnoticed by Penelope that Spencer had a box full of pens reserved for you, in case you needed one, nor the fact that he denied JJ one of them once, when the blonde girl needed something to write with quickly.

“The causes can be the most common, such as gas, indigestion, a muscle injury, or stress. Although there are also more serious causes: gastrointestinal infections, inflammatory bowel disease, irritable bowel syndrome, ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage..."

“Wow, what are you trying to do? Scare her?” Derek's voice invaded the place and Emily smirked.

“What? No, I'm just saying the possibilities…” Spencer whispered, looking down, a little worried that he might actually scared the person he cared more, besides his mom.

“It's okay.” You answer loud enough so your friends and coworkers would hear. “Thanks, Spence. I already went to the doctor, so I have none of… those.” I gave him a little smile. “But about stress…” The sentence hung in the air, so Spencer looked up and continued speaking automatically.

“Stress can cause stomach pain because the autonomic nervous system of the gastrointestinal tract reacts to the same hormones and neurotransmitters as the brain. This is because the digestive system is connected to the nervous system, and the enteric nervous system, which is located in the digestive system, is able to send and receive impulses and assimilate emotions.” He started to talk faster.

Your focus on the genius boy and his explanation was sincere, but maybe it was the fact that you didn't rest well, plus the fact that he was speaking too fast and not vocalizing all the syllables, that for a moment your brain didn't process what he was saying.

It was weird. At some point you didn't even hear words, just sounds from his mouth. That didn't happen to you for a really long time because you already had experience with the native speakers, even if english wasn't your mother language. The exhausting feeling of not being able to sleep well was definitely to blame.

While your brain was coming to that conclusion, Spencer could only see your furrowed brow, tense jaw, tilted head, and dissociated look.

“You want me to shut up, right?” That whisper was enough for you to come back to reality. His cheeks were red and his eyes looked a little sad, not to mention the way his mouth formed a line like whenever he felt awkward.

“Yes, please!” Derek answered instead, leaning back in his seat and looking up with his arms outstretched as if he'd had to deal with seven unsubs in the five minutes he'd been there, listening from his place to the information Spencer was giving you.

“Little genius boy got excited… again.” JJ said, looking at some documents in front of her, opening her eyes wide in an expression of tiredness and disinterest.

The young profiler stood up from your desk thinking about returning to his chair, a little embarrassed, but you took his pinky with yours —that way you wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable in case he wasn't in the mood for physical touch, something he refused unless it was you. Again, another special treat—. “Wait. It wasn't like that.” Hazel eyes looked at you intently, still with a bit of doubt. “I'm sorry Spencer. Yes, you got excited, but that's not something bad.”

“It isn't?” He questioned.

“No, but you started to speak fast, and the fact that there are some words that I have a hard time processing in English and I couldn't quite catch what you were saying because I didn't sleep enough, well, that distracted me. Would you mind repeating it again, slower?” This time, you were the one with warm cheeks.

“Oh. Are you sure you don't want me to shut up?” The boy was actually intrigued and a little surprised.

“Why would I want that?” The fact that your teammates often shut Spencer up when he tried to share extra information, or information that he had been asked about, was something you had noticed from the moment you started working with the team. You thought that was rude. You understood that sometimes Spencer got excited, gave information that was perhaps better saved for another time since you were investigating a case, or people could be tired and want silence, but the team either silenced him or made fun of him most of the time. Plus, there weren't many other things you liked more than hearing his voice.

The sweet, soothing tone of his words helped you sleep on the jet after a long case, or made you want to hear more about whatever he was talking about. Feeling like he was sharing with you, a mere mortal, some of the vast knowledge he had was nice.

“I'm always happy to hear whatever you need to say, even if it's about something I don't understand. And, right now, you are helping me a lot, so, please, don't shut up.” The crimson color returned to the tall boy's face, this time not because he was uncomfortable. Your kind and somewhat complicit smile made his heart race, like almost every time he was with you. Spencer knew that no matter how tired he got, he would never shut up if you wanted him to keep talking.

[inbabylontheywept]

the fine and subtle art of arguing with old men

it was a good week for testing which meant it was a slow week for me. most of my job is fixing the machine when it goes down. if it doesn't go down, i don't have much to do. 

fortunately neither did marc. in a site full of ornery old bastards, he's the oldest and the orneriest, so it goes without saying that i enjoy spending time with him. he reminds me of my grandpa. hell, he reminds me of a lot of people. i've befriended enough grumpy old men that i've got a sort of momentum to it now - you know how it is, when you meet someone that reminds you of someone else you really like. you get to start that friendship off half built, because you already have an idea of how to like that guy, and some of that old warmth can be brought to the new friendship. a little ember to start the stove up with.

(i think that's one of the really undersold beauties of getting older. you stop viewing people as strangers and more like remixes of friends.)

anyway, i was sitting next to marc and we were talking about the future. i've got my eye on having kids sometime soon (year or two? hopefully?), and he's very happy for me. i've tried asking him for advice, but all he says is that he didn't do a great job with his own kids and they still turned out okay, so i should stress less and trust myself more. i hope he's right. he believes it, at least, and it's a hell of a thing to have the faith of an old man. his faith is hard won.

as for his plans, he's retiring at some point in the next six months, and is hoping to sell his home and buy something in florida. he's republican, so he views the state as paradise, and i'm not inclined to even try talking him out of it. it's his dream, you know? i know for a fact my paradise would be a lot of people's hell. life's funny like that.

still, we kept going on, and it was a good time, and then he reminisced about the last time he got close to quitting - back around 2020. our job required getting vaxxed, and he refused, and there was a big kerfuffle about it before the job actually backed down. i know there's not a lot of sympathy for the unvaxxed out here, but the man's 62. you get the shot when you're under 30 to protect the people around you, but when you're over 60, you're just getting it to protect yourself and it's hard to be mad at someone for kicking their own ass. 

still gave me pause though. i knew he wasn't going to take it well, but half the job of collecting curmudgeons is keeping them around, so i said 

hey. i'm sorry they bent your arm over it, but.

but. 

you should really get that shot. 

and he looked over at me, and i looked at him, and he actually spat. not on me, just the concrete, but it was enough to show that he was mad. then he walked away, as abrupt as anything.

i felt bad about it. i wasn't sure what i'd expected, when he was willing to lose his job over it before, but i'd been so invested in his dream of retirement - the idea of him sipping margaritias on a beach next to his wife, the wife he calls every day during lunch, the wife he says is the one thing in life he ever got right on the first try. the wife that almost divorced him back when he was in the airforce because he just wasn't home enough. 

(but he can be home now.) 

and then he mentioned the vax thing, and it was like seeing a pin hit a balloon. he works out every day and takes all sorts of crazy vitamins and is generally committed to getting the most out of his pension and his life. i didn't want this dumb weak point to be his achilles heel. 

---

i wasn't actually sure how long marc would be mad at me. i've seen him stay mad at some people for weeks. i wasn't sure if being friends would make that time go up or down. 

it went down. i'm glad it went down. 

he stopped being mad about two days later. we were doing front end maintenance one morning, and it was just that simple mechanical rhythm - hex key, replace the anode sheets, punch some off-gassing holes, oil it up, put it back in - that put things at ease. it always does. people working there are too busy to remember grudges, and it has this sort of mandatory practical communication that helps smooth things over. it was going great, and then out of the blue he said babs, you gotta be careful giving advice. those shots come with complications. what would you do if i got that shot, had a stroke, and died? 

and i don't know what answer he was expecting, but i just told him the truth, which is that i would be devastated. i'd feel like i killed him. i thought that was a pretty normal response, but he looked taken aback. he asked why i said it then, and i said i'd have felt the same if he died of covid. that's just life. sometimes, there's no way forward that doesn't risk some kind of regret. 

we finished the tube after that, in a silence that felt heavier than peace but lighter than anger. it felt like the ball was back in marc's court. like it would be rude to take that turn from him. 

we parted ways with a nod and didn't speak until the next day. 

---

i was doing spreadsheet work when he found me again. standard paper engineering - thinking of things we might need and ordering them in batches, months ahead of time. it always feels a little like plugging holes in a dam with my fingers. 

but he popped up, and we didn't even exchange pleasantries. he just said i'm gonna die one day, and you can't blame yourself for that. 

which is a hell of a thing to just tell someone right off the bat. 

so i said what 

and he said babs, i am in my 60s. something is gonna get me eventually, and whether it's covid or heart disease, or a stroke, there will be something you could have said or done before. and that's okay. it's not your job to make me live forever. 

and you know, he actually made a lot of sense. so i said 

okay. 

i'll keep your business yours. i just

you were talking about your retirement before this. and i want that for you very much. you've worked hard for 45 years, and you deserve a break. we're getting to sick season, and it would be the saddest fucking thing in the world if you got this close to winning the race then tripped in the last ten feet. 

and we sat there a few moments longer. i wasn't sure what to say, and i wasn't sure what he'd say, but eventually he just shrugged and said

yeah 

then he left. i figured that would be the end of it. 

---

i did front end maintenance yesterday, after being gone a week. it's one of my favorite things to do. i like working with my hands. i really like working with my hands. i'm glad i went to college, but in a different life, i think i could've made a better electrician than an electrical engineer. 

and at one step, when we were both hoisting the plate back onto the machine, his sleeve rode up, and i saw two bandaids on his arm. 

we finished the install, and i was ready to go back when marc actually stopped me. 

i got the shot, he said, almost embarrassed. like he'd been caught. and i knew he was gonna say something dumb about it, so i just cut him off by giving him a hug. 

i was relieved. hugging old men is kind of like picking up cats. if they like you a lot, they'll tolerate it, but that's about it. we sat there maybe three beats before his hands went up, and then he gave me one overly-hard thump on the back. in my experience, this is how old men tell you that they're done, so i let him go.

carla talked me into it, he said, almost defensive. his wife. his one good decision.

tell her i said thanks, i said back.

trump got the shot too, he said, less defensive, but oddly pleading. like he was consoling himself.

like he was nervous.

then it's gotta be safe, i said, and he looked up at me, strangely searching, strangely vulnerable. i don't know exactly what he was looking for, but i guess he found it because after a few moments his shoulders relaxed.

yeah, he said, one hand on the back of his head.

it's gotta be.

[iloveglomp]

You're Huge

You’re huge. I mean, you were always a little on the chubbier side, but now, you’re absolutely massive. Your belly hangs lower every day, slowly piling down your legs, covering your fupa, and pushing outward. Those once chunky, adorable legs of yours are covered in cellulite and wider than my waist, rolls and stretch marks all over your juicy thick lower belly and ballooning heart shaped ass leading to those meaty, overflowing love handles I love to grab while fucking you. You’ll probably end up immobile, but you and I wouldn’t want it any other way…

When I first met you, you were a short barista at my local coffee house, your messy, deep red hair folded into a bun, and your soft brown eyes twinkling with attraction behind those nerdy glasses you had on. I left you a tip with my number written on it, and you pocketed the cash, messaging me later that day. I never thought that would work, and landing such a good-looking girl like you was beyond luck. We were meant to be, and I would make sure to enjoy every ounce of you. We texted back and forth constantly, flirting and feeling out who we really were. We hit it off over the phone, and I planned a date for us, just a picnic and some snacks in the park. The weather was wonderful, so why not? I met you in the parking lot, your red hair flowing behind you as your beautifully red lips formed an adorable smile. I brought you flowers and champagne, and you got a picnic basket full of sweets and salty snacks, your favorite. I lay out the blanket and pop us the champagne, you set up the snacks, and take a seat next to me. Your slightly chubby thighs wobble as you bounce your legs nervously about our date, but I can tell you’re into me. I soak in every detail about you now that we’re so close.. Your dimples when you smile, the way your teeth have the slightest gap in the middle, your golden septum piercing, always slightly crooked. I admire how your body fills out for such a low weight, probably around 140lbs at 5’0”, short but thick, and I’m into it. Your backside and legs curve beautifully, leading to a hint of a belly and a more slender upper body with small B-cups. You have a tattoo of a bumble bee on your right shoulder with a sleeve of wild flowers underneath it, which looks cute on you, fitting your aesthetic nicely. As we talk and drink more champagne, I can tell you’re a lightweight as you get touchier and giggle often, showcasing your bubbly personality and tendency for playful banter. As the sun sets, our conversation grows more intimate, and I steal a kiss. You melt into my arms as we fall deeper into each other's embrace. The spark lit between us was strong and fiery, I knew I would be seeing way more of you in more than one way soon enough. 

We went on several more dates, always centered around lounging about and snacking or going to dinner and a movie. You would overindulge, then lie back in the theatre chair, resting your belly as you zoned out. You were never physically active, and it was already having its side effects. I started picking you up from work, taking you on surprise dates, and going out to eat with you more often than not. You loved the attention and couldn’t get enough food and drinks when we went out, the alcohol causing you to overeat late into the night. I had you falling head over heels after a few more weeks of romantic outings. I decided it was time to ask you out, so I booked us at an especially nice restaurant, telling you to wear your best dress. When I picked you up, I walked to your studio apartment door, but you opened it before I could even knock. I was in awe of your looks that night, your dress clung so tightly to your slowly expanding frame. Every detail of how much weight you had put on was showing in all the right places. Your thighs and ass tight against the fabric as your pooch stuck out noticeably. Even your boobs were looking extra swollen as your arms and shoulders appeared softer and less defined. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you and your infectious smile. Everything about that night was perfect; we had a large dinner, with you ordering steak and lobster, mashed potatoes, risotto, and scallops. It was way more than you could eat, but I let you try to at the very least, encouraging you to take bite after bite as I fed you more. We can’t afford to come here all the time, so make sure you get your fill, baby. I would top off your glass of wine and watch as you forced another bite down your throat. By the end of our date, you were packed to the brim, drunk, and ecstatic that I asked you to be my girlfriend. I took you home, and you pulled me into your bedroom, itching to get out of that tight dress that once fit so comfortably. You unbuttoned my shirt and practically ripped my pants off ravenously, hungry for a treat only I could give you. My muscular frame towered over you as I took my strong arms and peeled the delicate dress off of you. Your stomach was so full and tender, I could tell I needed to be gentle with you because of how much you ate. You lay down, letting out a huge sigh of relief as you lock eyes with me, begging for something more. I grab your juicy legs and pull you to the edge of the bed, resting them on my shoulders and I grab my pulsing, girthy dick and begin to tease you with it. Rubbing it around your clit and slowly entering and exiting just the beginning of your hole. You beg me for more, telling me you want to be filled to the max as your tight gut and growing tits sway back and forth from my hips bumping into you. I slowly insert myself all the way to the end of my shaft, your eyes closing as you let out a sharp moan and cry in pleasure. Your warm thighs and soft ass slap against my strong core as I thrust in and out of you methodically, gentle but intense. As I near climax, you tighten around my shaft, begging me to release my seed inside of you. I cum hard, emptying my load as I grab your meaty thighs and stare at the tight drum of a belly that turns me on so much. I couldn’t wait to fatten you up into my prized piggy. 

You’re finally six hundred pounds, you’ve been so good for me, piggy. You’re so complacent, so enthusiastic about your gain. You can’t slow down, even on days you’re sleeping more than eating, the number continues to climb. You’re permanently filled with calories your body struggles to metabolize and store somewhere on your massively overgrown body. Your huge stomach is now three rolls, each heavier and flabbier than the last. I can’t even lift it up without using equipment. Your tits are so huge, round and swollen. They weigh so heavily on you, I know it’s getting harder to breathe under all this luscious fat you have piled on. You make noises like a good little piggy, too. A squeal for pleasure or a whine for attention. I make sure you get whatever you want; you deserve it for being so good to me. We can only have sex in doggy now, your huge gut won’t allow it any other way, and you get too hungry to stop eating during sex. You get lifted up, propped on pillows and eat your fill of rich calorie dense foods as I take you from behind, pulling that huge jiggly mountain of an ass you grew for me apart as I insert myself into you, throbbing and ravenous to feel you. It’s so warm and jaw-droppingly wet, the weight of your body making it so tight and pleasurable. You love it when I tease you for being so huge. Even if I just tell you how fag you are and how much of an immobile obese cow you are you go wild with lust. You probably orgasm multiple times a day, even from the slightest hint of pleasure. I can tell when your breath quickens and you squirm and writhe, begging me for release, you rely on me for everything now, and I wouldn’t want it any other way for my beautiful goddess and her hundreds of pounds of fat engulfing her. 

When you hit seven hundred pounds, your poor body struggling to keep up with your voracious appetite, you’ve become a truly transformed woman. You were just a huge, dumb cow now. You barely spoke besides simple demands. Food, sex, bathroom, TV, etc. You loved being such an obedient, helpless blob. Every calorie you consumed you knew would make us both happy, so you shoveled them down relentlessly, eager for more pleasure and soft fat to admire. You could barely move at all. Propped up on pillows and pampered 24/7 as you grew to larger sizes. I had you naked now, clothes were no use. Cleaned and lotioned, baby powder and scented oils rubbed all over you as you enjoyed your fluffy body and how it jiggled and quaked at every touch. You could barely use your arms at all; they were too heavy and caused you to struggle so much, leaving you breathless and sweating after a few minutes. I hand-fed you now, encouraging and enabling you to continue ballooning up for me. You obeyed and opened wide, happy for another delicious bite of fat, greasy food to go down your throat. I installed a mirror over the bed so you could see how you continued to swell up. You didn’t know who you were anymore; all you could see was rolls of flesh and piles of lard flowing out in every direction. Everything was so massive and soft, so heavy and jiggly. You wanted more, your appetite insatiable. You wanted to be at least 1,000 lbs before your arteries finally clogged and you gave out. I think we can make it work, probably get you even bigger than that, don’t you think, piggy? Will you be a good girl for me and take another bite? 

[lowrisemiller]

bed breaks when joel and reader are.. yknow

ꜱᴛᴜʀᴅʏ

joel miller x fem!reader

had sm fun writing this tyyy

you and joel just moved in together and are in need of a bed frame all is good until you give it the real test

masterlist | 1.9k words | teasing, smoochin, fingering, unprotected piv sex, DOGGY😛

You wake up to a Joel-shaped furnace beside you, his arm thrown over your waist like he’s got some claim to the bed you technically found first in the housing lottery. But he moved in two weeks ago, and now everything in the little blue house smells like cedar, coffee, and leather.

Home.

“Mornin’,” he rasps, lips brushing your neck as you stretch.

“There’s a community garage sale today,” you mumble. “We need a bed frame.”

Joel groans like you just suggested he skin a clicker with his bare hands. “The floor works just fine.”

“Joel,” you say, rolling onto your side to face him. “We’re not savages. You threw your back out last week tying your boot. You really wanna keep sleeping on a mattress like a college sophomore?”

That earns a low chuckle. “Fine. But if I end up haulin’ somethin’ heavy, you better make it worth my while.”

You press a kiss to his jaw. “Deal.”

The Jackson town square is buzzing. Booths are arranged in crooked rows, tables overflowing with mismatched dishes, fishing gear, hand-knit sweaters, and the occasional hodgepodge of someone’s pre-outbreak DVDs. A little boy walks by dragging a garden gnome by the hat.

You and Joel circle the perimeter until you spot it: an iron bed frame leaning against a tent, spray-painted with the word “$10 OR TRADE”. It’s rusted around the edges, but it’s got this vintage flair—like it belonged in some early 2000s Airbnb before the world went to shit.

“Sturdy?” Joel asks the booth owner, a woman in her sixties with a braid down to her waist.

“Stood the test of time,” she says. “Belonged to my sister. She and her husband were…active. Frame held up just fine.”

Joel grunts and crosses his arms. “That supposed to reassure me?”

You hide your laugh in your sleeve.

Eventually, you trade two jars of homemade pickles and a box of ammo for it. Joel loads the pieces onto a borrowed handcart, muttering under his breath the whole way home.

It’s not a bad bed. Once cleaned, the black iron headboard gleams in the sunlight pouring through the window. Joel grumbles over the screws, but you can tell he’s secretly enjoying the project. There’s something boyish in the way he crouches beside the frame, a screwdriver in hand, hair falling into his eyes.

You hand him bolts, trying not to stare at the curve of his forearms. “You know,” you say, leaning against the wall, “this could be a new thing for us. Domestic life. Fixing furniture. Hosting dinner parties. Maybe raising a goat.”

Joel snorts. “I ain’t raisin’ no goddamn goat.”

“Not even if I name her after you?”

He looks up, one brow raised. “You wanna name a goat Joel?”

“Joel-ine,” you say sweetly.

He points the screwdriver at you. “I’m takin’ back that screw if you keep talkin’.”

Later That Night

The frame holds.

You test it with gentle movement. Then a bounce. Joel watches with an amused shake of his head, arms crossed over his chest as you kneel on the mattress and try to rattle it.

“So,” you say. “Wanna christen it?”

He doesn’t answer. Just walks toward you slowly and sure, like you’re prey and he’s already halfway full but greedy for more.

His hands go to your hips. “You just want me to break it in.”

“I want you to break me in.”

He kisses you like he’s starved. Not just hungry for you, but for this—home, warmth, normalcy. His hands are on your waist, pulling you close, his mouth hot against yours. When you tug at his belt, he groans into your neck.

“Slow down,” he mutters, fingers slipping under your shirt to map the curve of your back. “Ain’t even admired you yet.”

You sit back on your heels atop the mattress, letting him look. The moonlight streaks in through the blinds, catching the soft sheen of sweat already blooming on your collarbones. Joel’s eyes darken as he takes you in—shirtless, flushed, breathing hard.

“You’re trouble,” he says.

You smirk. “And you like it.”

He lunges forward and kisses you hard, all tongue and teeth, like he’s trying to prove something. You pull him down on top of you, gasping as his weight presses you deep into the mattress. His thigh parts your legs. You roll your hips up against him, and the low, strangled sound he makes sends heat coiling through your belly.

“Been thinkin’ about this all goddamn day,” he growls, sliding a hand down your stomach, slipping inside your waistband. “You wearin’ these little shorts… bendin’ over that booth…”

“Joel,” you gasp, clutching his arm.

He slides his fingers between your legs and finds you soaked. His touch is slow, deliberate, maddening. He rubs tight circles, watching your face the whole time. “Fuck. This all for me?”

You nod, too breathless to speak.

Joel dips his head, kissing your jaw, your throat, your chest. He takes one nipple into his mouth, hot and insistent, while his fingers keep working you. You arch under him, mouth falling open in a moan that’s half his name.

“Turn around,” he whispers. “Wanna see you like that.”

You shift, spine arching as you flip onto your stomach. Joel growls his approval as you lift your hips, bracing your hands against the pillows. He kneels behind you and drags your shorts down slowly, reverently, baring you inch by inch. The cool air hits your slick heat, and you shiver.

“Jesus,” he mutters, running his hands over your ass, spreading you open. “Look at you.”

You feel the blunt head of his cock tease at your entrance, thick and hot and so ready.

“Joel,” you beg, unable to take the teasing anymore. “Please.”

He slides in slow, inch by inch, watching you clench around him. The stretch is almost too much—but god, you crave it. You want to be full of him. Marked by him. Taken apart and put back together again.

“Fuck,” he hisses, bottoming out. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby.”

He starts to move. Deep, languid thrusts that make the bed creak with every snap of his hips. You fist the sheets, crying out as he hits that spot over and over, your thighs trembling.

“Been wantin’ this,” he groans, picking up the pace. “Every night. Every fuckin’ minute.”

You push back to meet his rhythm, skin slapping against skin, breath hitching. It’s primal and messy—desperate—and the bedframe is not handling it well.

You can feel it wobbling.

“Don’t stop,” you pant. “I don’t care, just—don’t stop—”

Joel grabs your hips and fucks into you harder, faster. The sound of your bodies moving in rhythm fills the room, and you’re so close, it’s maddening. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing frantically, and you fall over the edge with a strangled moan, shaking beneath him.

He follows with a growl, slamming into you once, twice—then the frame snaps. A deafening crack. The mattress tips sideways and Joel shouts, losing his balance as you both tumble onto the floor in a sweaty, tangled heap.

Silence.

You’re breathless, stunned, still trying to come down from the high as Joel groans, “Goddamn it.”

“Yup,” you wheeze. “You broke our sex bed.”

Joel shifts off you and sits up, bare and exasperated. “They said it was sturdy.”

“Maybe just not Joel-fucking-me-into-next-week sturdy.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. Then laughs.

You’re still giggling when he reaches down and pulls you into his lap, one hand cupping the back of your neck. “Guess I owe you a better bed.”

You thread your fingers into his messy curls and lean your forehead against his. “Guess you do.”

He kisses you again, slower this time. Like you’ve got nowhere to be. No clickers. No broken frame under your asses.

Just a mattress on the floor, the man you love, and the moonlight painting soft shapes on the wall.

The Next Morning

You wake up sore and boneless, Joel snoring beside you.

There’s a knock at the front door.

You throw on a shirt and answer it to find Tommy standing there with a coffee mug and a smirk.

“Y’all break your new bed already?” he asks.

You blink. “How’d you—”

“Ellie heard the crash from two houses over.”

You groan and shut the door in his face.

Joel mumbles from the bedroom, “We’re buildin’ the next one ourselves.”

You call back, “With what? Vibration-proof steel?”

He grins into his pillow. “Damn straight.”

divider by @cursed-carmine 🏷️ @zevrra @xodilfluvr @littlemillersbaby @millersdoll @grayandthyme

[anashins]

what if jaehyun comes home from the military and the filthiest smutty smut smut happens….

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: smut, swearing

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: During his military vacation, Jaehyun comes home after months of being apart from you - all buff and with a lot of pent-up desire.

A/N: So, we are all simping over military Jaehyun over here, huh?

Cook together

Go for a walk in the park

Play video games

Visit a café

Watch our favorite TV shows

Go sledding

Meet with Jaehyun’s friends and family

…

You had prepared a long bucket list of things you wanted to do with Jaehyun on his first vacation from the military. He only had two weeks, and though it might sound long, in comparison to one and a half years away from you, it was nothing. So you wanted to make the most of it and give him a great time with all his favorite things to do.

“In the taxi now. Home in 10 minutes!”

Jaehyun’s text was followed by a selfie of him in the car.

You excitedly clapped your hands together. The meat was already sizzling in the pan, the rice steaming in the cooker and the desert cooling in the refrigerator. You wanted to welcome your boyfriend back with a freshly home cooked meal. 

After that, you would suggest going for a walk, visit a café and then have dinner at his favorite restaurant. His first day home, or better say the whole two weeks, were already perfectly mapped out in your head - and in your planner. 

But little did you know that this day would not go as planned. At all.

“I’m back!”

Because when your boyfriend was standing at the opened entrance door ten minutes later, a wide grin on his face and wearing his full standard military uniform, you forgot every single thing on your list. Seeing Jaehyun in his uniform made you forget not only your plans, but your entire sanity. 

He had gotten a bit buffer, a bit healthier, and his hair only a bit longer as you caught from them peeking out of his beret. He looked handsome as hell, and there was this thing about his standard uniform that only enhanced all of this.

“Oh, what smells so good in here?” Jaehyun asked after having given you a long hug. “I’m actually so hungry!”

There was one thing on your list that you now remembered you had totally forgotten to put on.

“Yes, me too,” you agreed, grabbed him by his collar and pulled him down to you while his beret went flying all the way to the floor.

____

“Show me what you’ve worked so hard on in the military, Jaehyun,” you purred and let yourself fall back onto the bed. “Show me what I’ve been missing out on for so many months.”

Jaehyun pushed your legs together with his thighs when he gently settled on top of you. His jacket and shirt had long been taken off by your hasty fingers that had struggled with opening the buttons in excitement of what was underneath all that fabric. 

Now, his prominent chest muscles were flexing on top of you, and you stretched out your hands to touch them, but Jaehyun was quick in grabbing your wrist and pinning your arm above your head. He did the same to your other arm and locked them in place against the pillow with only one of his hands.

He then grinned at you. “Very well. I’ll show you.”

You didn’t even try to pry yourself from his grip, but anticipated the joy when he bent down. The expected kisses on your lips or neck never happened though. Instead, you felt his hot lips on your chest, soon followed by a warm wetness on the tip of your mound when he let his tongue drape over your nipple. Taking it between his teeth, Jaehyun tugged slightly on the skin, and you yelped in surprise, wriggling in his grip.

“You cannot imagine how much I had to restrict myself during all this time,” he said when he came up again, facing your flushed and hot face.

“Don’t worry,” you snickered. “We have two weeks to make up for all of it.”

“But I fear, even if we do it during all hours of the day, it might not be enough for all the pent up desire I have built.”

Jaehyun let go of you and got up on both of his knees. With his hands on his belt, he freed his pants from the tightness with a clattering sound. His cock sprang free and had long reached its peak height. You licked over your licks, wanting to taste him and take all of him into your mouth. 

So you arose and slowly placed your fingers around his girth. He was thick and so hard, already pulsing regularly in your palms, and it only took you a few strokes until Jaehyun begged you to stop,

“Please... Otherwise it will end right here.”

You were also aware that months of yearning didn’t leave much room for long and extensive foreplay. Perhaps, you could wake him in the morning with a little treat, but until then, you were more than willing to finally have him inside you again. 

You helped Jaehyun out of his pants before you took off your underwear as well. He placed his naked body on top of yours, pushing you as far up to the bedhead as possible. 

“You wanna know what I’ve trained so hard for in the military? What these muscles are for?”

“Mmhmm.”

A corner of your lip tilted up when you felt him nudging in your already wet entrance, and you slowly exhaled when he slipped into you as if it were the easiest thing in the world after having made you so hot already flexing his newly gained muscles. You opened your mouth to say this to him, but out came only a sound you hadn’t heard yourself made in so long when Jaehyun suddenly pushed into you with a long stroke.

You were holding onto his shoulders when he first started out slowly and deliberately, his thrusts thoughtful and just according to your liking, which you let him know by moaning slightly into his ear and digging your nails just a little deeper into his muscles. This was what Jaehyun always did though, paying attention to your needs and preferences first, there was no way this man would let go of you unsatisfied. 

“Yes, Jaehyun! Exactly there!”

During the months apart, he hadn’t forgotten what he needed to do, what you liked, and you vocally let him know that.

But when you looked up to Jaehyun, you saw his closed eyes, his gritted teeth and the restraint written all over his sweaty face while he was moving on top of you. This man, who was trying to please you so much, was fighting his own urge to release his pent up desire all at once.

“Jaehyun.” You stretched out your hands and lifted yourself up to kiss him when he halted his movements. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry-”

His lips parted again as he was preparing himself to say something more, but you only giggled and kissed him again. “You don’t have to hold yourself back for me.”

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath while having his gaze locked with you. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“Will it be like the time you went on vacation for two weeks?”

His expression suddenly turned a bit sinister. “I believe much worse.”

What to make of his words, you got to know bare moments later after Jaehyun had lifted his upper body up and grabbed onto the headboard, his biceps straining in your sight. 

You whimpered slightly when his thrust rhythm suddenly changed. They were not longing and deep anymore, but hasty and hard, barely giving you a second to breathe whenever he pulled away before pushing back into you with full force. Again, and again, and again.

 “Ah, Jaeh-” Pause to breathe. “-hyun!”

The headboard was constantly banging against the thin wall, and the noise of Jaehyun’s heavy panting mixed with your own begs as you pleaded to him, “Please… more!”

It was usually not your preferred style, but who said you couldn’t try something else every now and then? You lifted up your legs and trapped Jaehyun’s waist between your thighs. He was happy to comply as he kissed your forehead and instead of slowing down, only went faster with his pace, despite your initial doubts whether this was even possible.

But it was, indeed. 

You were holding onto Jaehyun like a lifeline, and while you had to admit that you usually liked it slow and sensual, there was something about him taking you apart in such a wild style that nearly made you lose all your sanity again. At one point, when he was penetrating just the right spot with just the right speed, you even found yourself screaming, muffling the sound while biting into his shoulder.

“A sh-” Jaehyun started, but barely finished with, “I’m so-” Before he groaned and then froze on top of you. 

It was a majestic sight for you, watching your boyfriend cum. The fine line between holding back and the final release, the battle on his face slowly giving in to the long awaited release. He looked so beautiful and hot at the same time.

You felt Jaehyun emptying himself all inside of you, pumping and pumping for much longer than usual while you were just holding him through it, until he needed to let himself slowly back down on you. 

You laid your head on his chest that was still sweaty and irregularly heaving up and down. You let your fingertips trail along his muscles while closing your eyes, and suddenly felt Jaehyun’s arm embracing you from the side.

“I’m sorry I was neglecting you,” he suddenly apologized. 

“What do you mean? I was having so much fun!”

“So… it was good?”

“I don’t mind going rougher every now and then.”

“Hmm. But I was too fast and you didn-”

“It didn’t matter at that moment. It was still enjoyable. Besides…” You moved up and turned on your stomach, bracing yourself on your arms against Jaehyun’s chest and placing your head on them so that you could watch him. “We still have two full weeks for you to do the job more than once. I maybe just need to adjust the initial plans a little… Let me just-” 

You shifted to arise from your position, but Jaehyun reached out his arm and hindered you from doing so by holding onto the back of your head. Gently, he pulled you to him so that you were facing each other closely.

“You don’t want me to show you another thing I’ve practiced so hard for in the army?” he smirked. 

You raised your brows. “Aside from your new strength, what could it be?”

Jaehyun’s smile grew wicked. “Stamina,” he answered before he turned you on your back with one swift motion and pulled the blanket over the two of you.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Christmas Showdown

In which you and Lando run into an ex-boyfriend while you're home for the holidays.

Warnings: talk of abusive relationship (no details though). Established relationship. Protective Lando. This could probably be better and it's pretty short buttttttt I needed to get this out of my head, so enjoy! Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader Word Count: 1.8k words

Master List

It had been several years since you spent the holidays in your small Midwestern hometown. Usually, your family flew out to London or Monaco to spend the holiday’s with you there, much preferring to leave Michigan’s several feet of snow that was typically on the ground during Christmas. This year was different thought. Your grandmother had been too ill to make the long flight so instead, you came to them. Which was fine with you, you had missed seeing friends that were home for the holidays and missed the nostalgic nights spent around the Christmas tree with your family. The one person who was not fine with it, however, was your boyfriend. 

Lando Norris simply hated the cold. He hated being cold. Hated thinking about the cold. Hated the snow. Anytime the temperature dipped below 50 degrees Fahrenheit ( which also a fight you two had often was how he refused to learn the difference between Fahrenheit and Celsius while also simultaneously refusing to do the same for him.) So you knew he must really be down bad for you when he had agreed (albeit a bit sluggishly) to spend the Christmas holiday with you in your (freezing) hometown. 

There was minimal complaining for the first few days you were at home, mostly because it the weather was fair enough to not be something comparable to the North Pole, but trouble arose the day of your Aunt and Uncle’s infamous Christmas party. The first sign of trouble was your brother’s insistence on a family outing to the sledding hill that was a few miles from your house. Of course Lando had packed several parkas but when he had seen the Canada Goose store in the mall the day before, he had bought the thickest, best cold rated puffer jacket he could find. Despite that and several layers of long johns and sweaters, by the time you reached the sledding hill your poor boyfriend was shivering like your grandma’s ancient chihuahua. 

To his credit though, there was not one single utterance of a complaint or plea to go back to your parents house for a cup of hot chocolate then entire time. Lando happily chased your nieces and nephews around the sledding hill and even went down the hill a few times with you. 

“Okay, folks!” Your dad calls out as the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky. “I think it’s time we all head home and get ready for Judy and Steve’s party tonight. I expect everyone to be at their house by 7pm sharp!” The ‘this reminder is for your benefit’ look that your dad sends you has your already wind chapped face turning even more red. 

“I don’t know why you’re glaring at me! I’m always on time!” You shout, grabbing for Lando’s hand. “We’ll see you guys tonight!” 

Once you get in the Range Rover that Lando had rented for the two week visit, he immediately turns the heated seats on full power and cranks up the heat. 

“Do you want to swing by Starbucks and get something warm before going home?” You ask as Lando pulls out of the park and onto the snowy street. “I feel like I might need to just get you an IV of hot chocolate at this point.” 

Lando gives you a sidelong glare. “I think I have icicles in my nose hairs.” 

Laughter tumbles out of you, quick and light, sending a thrill of pleasure down Lando’s spine. You two had been dating for a few years now and there were still times he’d look over at you and think ‘how the fuck did I convince this girl to be my girlfriend?’. You had come into his life at a particularly challenging time and had been his rock since day one. 

“Starbucks it is, my poor little snowman. There’s one up here in this strip mall. Turn left at this light and then it’s on the right.” 

The parking lot, which is a shared lot with several other big box stores, is an absolute zoo and you can see the line snaking around the inside of the Starbucks before you even go in. To save some time, Lando drops you off at the front door while he goes and finds a spot for the large SUV. 

The line is long when you get inside but you’re thankful to at least be out of the bitter cold. While you wait in line, you mindlessly scroll on your Instagram, which is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Going private on all socials and not being featured heavily on Lando’s had been one of the things you two had agreed upon when things started getting serious nearly two years ago now. People who were huge Lando fans knew who you were but the casual F1 fan probably wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of a lineup. 

Your casually scrolling, minding your own business, when a deep voice calling your name jolts you out of your little social media bubble. 

“Jeff?” You sputter, surprised to see your college boyfriend standing in front of you in line, huge smile on his face. 

Jeff had been one of the guys you and your best friends had drooled over in high school, having been nearly two years ahead of you when you were teens. You didn’t start dating him until your freshman year of college, when he was already a junior. To say the man was toxic was an understatement. In fact, now that you had a few years distance between the now and the end of the relationship, you could confidently say Jeff had been pretty abusive. 

“Hey, stranger!” He says, leaning in for a hug. You go completely still, totally unprepared to be faced with the man who had caused you so much trauma in the two years you had dated. “I have’t seen you in ages, visiting your family for the holidays?” 

You toss a look over your shoulder, desperately wishing for Lando to come walking in the door. “Uh, yeah. First time in a few years. I usually fly them over to London or Monaco for the holidays.” 

A dark shadow passes over Jeff’s face at the mention of where you live now. “Monaco, huh? You always thought you were too good for us here, didn’t you?” 

Your stomach twists painfully at the look in his eyes and you briefly consider just turning around and walking right out of the Starbucks without your drinks.

Before you can stutter out a response, a strong pair of large hands wraps around your waist as Lando drops his head onto your shoulder. “Darling. Baby. Sweetheart. Love of my life." Lando croons in your ear, not yet picking up on your body language. "I adore you but why the fuck did you have to be born in a place where the air hurts your face?” 

You laugh stiffly despite yourself. “Talk to my parents about that one, love.” 

Lando drops a kiss on your cheek before looking over at the other man. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.” 

Across from you, Jeff had been watching this exchange between Lando and you with an increasing amount of annoyance. Who the fuck was this and why was he calling you the love of his life? 

“Lando, this is Jeff.” You turn slightly, giving Lando a knowing look which he catches onto immediately. “Jeff, this is my boyfriend, Lando.” 

“That’s an interesting name. Only heard that name twice before, once in Star Wars and…” Jeff’s voice drops off as he finally makes the connection. “Wait. Lando…as in Lando Norris?” 

The smug grin that stretches across Lando’s face nearly has you giggling. “That’s me. And you’re Jeff, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you. None of it good.” 

Lando remembered the first time you had ever opened up to him a few months into dating about how you had been in an abusive relationship in college and how much work it had taken to recover from it. He had been your first serious relationship after leaving Jeff, having left the country just to get away from him. Internally, Lando raged at the man standing in front of you two, the protective instinct in him screaming to just lay the guy out right here.

Jeff’s already ruddy face turns red with incandescent rage. You had totally forgotten he was a big Formula One fan and when you remember the fact that not only is he an F1 fan, but a huge McLaren fan, the urge to giggle hits you again. Oh, this was just too good. 

“How’d you…” Jeff stutters. “How’d you manage to bag yourself a Formula 1 driver?” 

The question is a pathetic attempt to rile you up and insult you but both you and Lando see that question for exactly what it is. 

Lando plants another kiss on your cheek and you know he’s doing it to be an asshole. “I was actually the one who pursued her. She turned me down left and right for nearly a year, didn’t you baby?” 

You nod, remembering the way Lando had come into your office at the McLaren Tech Center day after day just to make small talk at first but finally had worked up the nerve to ask you out. You were one of the newer people on the comms team back then and you hand’t wanted to jeopardize the career you had worked so hard for so you had turned him down for nearly a year, insisting that you wanted nothing more than a friendship with the driver. 

“But eventually, he wore me down. He flew me to Monaco and took me out on his yacht for our first date, it was all very romantic.” It had actually been Max’s yacht, but Jeff didn’t need to know that bit. 

You can see Jeff practically seething at this point, knowing that you’re doing so well and he’s still apparently stuck in your hometown. 

“And how are you doing, Jeff? Still working at your dad’s law firm? How is Vance doing? And Laura?” You know it’s killing him, asking about his parents by their first name. 

Jeff just blinks at you for a few moments, realizing you weren’t the little girl he used to push around and take advantage of in college anymore. “Made partner last year, actually.” 

“That must be easy to do when your dad owns the practice, huh?” Lando says, voice nothing but light innocence. 

Jeff’s eyes bounce between you and Lando for several moments before he suddenly reaches into his pocket. “If you’d excuse me, it looks like the office is calling me.” 

“A call from the office the day before Christmas! Gosh, you must be very important, Jeffery.” Lando’s low blow to Jeff’s big ego hits true and without another word, the man scampers out of the Starbucks without a second glance in your direction. 

Once he’s gone, both you and Lando dissolve into giggles, your head finding it’s favorite spot on Lando’s shoulder. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to deck you there are the end.” 

“And mess up his pretty lawyer hands? Honey, I doubt he even knows how to throw a punch.” 

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