#i'm 100% a mood reader

[bookwyrminspiration]

sisyphus keeps bitching about his rock but he doesn't even have to pick a new book to read after finishing his current one

[orphicsun]

CAITVI / FEM! READER (18+)

warnings: dom cait + switch(?) vi + sub reader, brat taming kink, threesome, oral sex (multi receiving), fingering (r! receiving), use of strap-ons (referred to as a cock once), ass-slapping, bondage with rope, mentions of vi marking up reader, degradation kink, degrading names (attention whore), orgasm denial and mentions of overstimulation, aftercare between rounds. 

"My god, Vi. She is just doing it for attention. It's like she wants to drive me mad." Caitlyn huffed, exasperated. She leaned against her desk with her arms crossed, and Vi knew that it was bad this time.

You had a habit of purposely annoying Caitlyn for a reaction from her. Vi personally thought it was cute, but she understood how aggravating it could be for Caitlyn, someone who was busy and easily riled up.

There were countless times Vi would come home and be able to smell the scent of sex and lube as soon as she walked into the bedroom. Usually, Caitlyn, you, and Vi liked doing..those activities as a group. Vi knew how impulsive Caitlyn could get when you pushed her, though.

Vi's favorite memory, and the one she found funniest, was when you splurged out on rubber ducks and placed what could be estimated as 100 all over Caitlyn's office floor. Caitlyn was not as amused, and your brain was complete mush when by the time she was through with you.

Vi didn't know exactly what happened this time, but didn't exactly need to to know what was about to happen. Vi had to be roped in, of course.

Vi tried not to smile, (mostly) wanting to stay on Caitlyn's good side. "So you want me to go do something about what she did to you?"

Caitlyn sighed, a warning that she wasn't in the mood for Vi, either. "Yes, please. I have some paperwork to prepare, and I'm quite frankly too pissed off to deal with her. Go find her and deal with her. Please?"

Vi knew that when Caitlyn was 'pissed off', it had to be serious. She could figure out Caitlyn like the back of her mind, but you? She honestly didn't know what scene she would be greeted with when she entered the bedroom. She gave Caitlyn a nod and shut the door behind her with a soft click.

When Vi walked into the bedroom, she was greeted with a sight that had drool pooling at the corners of her lips. There you were, on the center of the bed. Like usual when you were awaiting whatever consequences Caitlyn sentenced you, like some privileged prisoner. It was what you were wearing that had Vi's jaw on the floor and her eyes darkening.

All you had on was a skimpy lingerie set. The tan straps fit snug against your skin and left nothing to the imagination, and a complimentary blue brought attention to the sight between your legs that was only covered by lacy, embroidered petals and mesh. Vi could see how stiff your nipples were through your corset-like top, once again only mesh covering you. Now Vi understood why Caitlyn was so riled up.

Vi walked towards the bed slowly until she was able to reach out and touch you. She didn't, though. Instead, she gave you a smile. That told you everything.

"Caitlyn sent you." You stated in a tone that already sold you out. Fucking brat, Vi thought to herself.

"You knew she was busy. Did you flaunt yourself in that hoping to get fucked?" Vi scolded, though there was always a small, visible hint of amusement in her voice. Maybe even a bit of pride.

"She is always busy," you whine.

"Tch, tch. You are such an attention whore sometimes. You know that, right?"

Vi's words made your cunt weep and ache for her. For both her and Caitlyn. You wanted both of their hands all over your body, but if Caitlyn wasn't going to give you the attention you truly believed you deserved, then you had no worry for Vi. Vi always gave in.

Everytime Vi was sent to 'deal with you', it ended on a note of Vi's strap deep inside you. It ended with her tits pressed against yours in missionary, or it ended with the flat of her tongue on your clit.

"Shh," she'd always whisper in your ear while she fucked you. "Don't tell Caitlyn I'm giving it to you, okay? I won't do this again if you do." Ironically, you were a good girl for Vi when she gave in. Caitlyn had not figured out that every single time you acted up around her, Vi didn't deal with you. She rewarded you, in fact. Caitlyn had not figured that out yet.

"For you two, of course." You promised, tone sweet. You were sucking up to Vi, knowing she was going to eat it up.

She did.

-

Your legs were forced apart by Vi's grip on them, and your pussy was clenching around her fingers. Everytime her tongue swiped over your clit with no hint of teasing or denying you, you relished in it. You nearly wanted Caitlyn to walk in just so she could see how well Vi was 'punishing you.'

While Vi was fucking you dumb, you weren't stupid enough to not be scared of what would happen if Caitlyn did walk in.

Vi wrapped her pink lips around your clit and sucked it like candy. Your thighs squeezed her cheeks together in response, and you whined in pleasure and bliss.

You loved both your girls. Vi was skilled with her tongue in a way that made you weak, and she knew exactly how to treat you. She loved to spoil you, no matter how rotten it made you. Caitlyn wasn't as direct. She liked tying you up and keeping you on edge for hours or fucking you on end for hours, no inbetween. Her slender fingers pressed meticulously into your g-spot like the sweetest torture, and heavy are Caitlyn's hips as they carry a strap. Caitlyn's strap-on was much girthier than Vi's, leaving you feeling nearly impaled when she stretched you on it. You loved both of them equally, and when you were all on the bed together, you probably would be fucked stupid enough to blad to Caitlyn about Vi's little secret.

You had your eyes closed in bliss as Vi worked you closer and closer to your orgasm, tugging at her hair because you knew she liked it and you wanted to please her, too. Your thoughts were melting together like a box of crayons, colorful with each jolt of pleasure, but messy and incoherent.

"Fuck, baby!! Your tongue is gonna make me cum, I can't-" and just as you had Vi's name sitting on your tongue, ready to moan it as you came, she stopped. You were about to whine and ask why she was being a tease, but you opened your eyes. There Vi was, an apologetic glance thrown your way, and Caitlyn in the doorway. Absolutely furious.

Vi didn't need to be told to keep her mouth far away from your pussy. She pulled away, taking her cue to walk out. Caitlyn stayed.

You sat up, your hair a mess and your naked body covered in lovebites from Vi. Your thoughts that were once so beautifully blissful and gone were sobering up. You didn't even begin your annoyingly long apology with Caitlyn. It wouldn't work, anyway.

"Want to explain?" Caitlyn tried you, tone accusing enough to make you even wetter despite the circumstances. She was asking you to explain, but you knew and she knew there was no fucking way you could even coherently defend yourself. There comes the truth, with the fear. Maybe Vi did do her job right

"Everytime you tell Vi to handle me, I convince her not to. And then she fucks me." You blurt out, cheeks hot with humiliation.

You were completly, utterly fucked.

Caitlyn didn't utter another word. She simply took a stroll to the drawer, pulling out some rope, lube, and a strap-on that you didn't know existed. It wasn't her usual, that's for sure.

"Color?" Caitlyn asked you, her posh accent slightly softening as she made sure you actually wanted this.

"Green."

And that was the last of her kindness.

Caitlyn tied had the rope holding your wrists together behind you back and positioned with your ass raised high and your face in the sheets. You were already naked, your pussy on display like a whore in a brothel. Caitlyn didn't even think she'd need to lube up the toy as she glanced towards your pussy. You were a pathetic mess, dripping down onto her expensive sheets.

Still, Caitlyn drizzled a decent amount of lube onto the silicone toy and rubbed it all over. She kneeled behind you, lining the cool, gel-coated tip with your entrance. You let out a small squeak heard from Caitlyn, and a harsh smack landed on your ass. You cried out, pleasure and pain shooting through you where her palm landed.

"You never know when to shut up," she scolded sharply, and pulled away from you.

Your body was aching for more after having your last orgasm ripped from you, but there was a sense of fear for the next. You loved it and hated it at the same time. Caitlyn was merciless with you.

Vi liked to take out her stress on men in fights and on her punching bag. She held a lot of aggression, but released it thoroughly, and so sex for her wasn't really much of a stress reliever. She didn't need it to be, at least. With Caitlyn, however, things were much different. Vi always said she liked to hold in her stress, and it wasn't exactly a lie. Caitlyn had a tendency to keep everything in. You didn't mind it when she took it out on you, it was like a mutual stress reliever. You liked to feel more extreme sensations.

"Vi?" Caitlyn called, making your stomach flutter. That could only mean one thing.

-

Vi's pussy always tasted nice, but especially when you were getting plowed from the back.

Your head was buried between her thighs, and you were shaking with each thrust as Caitlyn gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. Her cock repeatedly slammed into you, the force sending your tongue deeper into your other lover's cunt.

"Mmph," you whined into Vi's pussy. The tip of the kissed your cervix, and you moaned again.

"Fuck, the mouth on her is amazing." Vi groaned, a pleasured grin on her face. Caitlyn flashed her a glare that told her to shut up, though. Probably still furious that Vi was fucking you without Caitlyn knowing.

"I can't believe you thought you weren't going to be caught." Caitlyn began lecturing as she fucked you. She pulled her hips back, leaving just the tip nestled in your tightness, before slamming forward and splitting you open. You sounded almost wounded when you moaned, like she was in your guts, and it made Caitlyn's clit throb with white heat.

"Both of you just think you can do whatever you like with no care in the world, huh?" She gritted out. "This one thinks she can aggravate me to no ends and thinks she deserves to be rewarded after." A scoff left her lips, and even Vi had to moan in response to Caitlyn's words.

You were being fucked at a ruthless pace, and your orgasm was quickly approaching. It only encouraged you to make Vi feel good as an apology for involving her in your shenanigans. You sucked on her clit, lapping at it like ice cream while Caitlyn slammed into you at a pace that caused the room to fill with the sound of skin slapping, slurping noises, and countless moans.

You honestly didn't expect Caitlyn to let you cum, but she did. That should've scared you. It definitely wouldn't be your first orgasm of the night. Instead, you were blissed out and fucked truly dumb.

Caitlyn fucked you through your orgasm, and your moans had Vi cumming on your tongue. You tried to focus on your high while licking up every bit of Vi's juices, but you were never a good multi-tasker.

When you came down, Caitlyn came down to a slow stop, and she pulled out of you. Soon, your wrists were unbound. Caitlyn left the room and soon came back with a bottle of water. She tapped your back with it, signaling you to roll over. You groaned, stretching and sitting up. Vi was still reeling from her orgasm, but she moved behind you, wrapping her arms around your torso so her tits were pressed against your back. Both of you took turns with the water bottle until you it was empty.

As soon as the water bottle found its place on Caitlyn's mahogany nightstand, Vi was holding you in her arms, and Caitlyn crawled between your legs. Two fingers were already ready for your cunt.

Once again, the night was never over with one orgasm.

[cosmicporos]

Arcane character x GN! Reader on Period.

synopsis: Just some period comfort hcs with Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Ekko, Mel and Jinx!

Warning: Cursing. 18+ FOR JINX, no smut but somewhat spicy. Rest of the characters are fluff.

Please enjoy! So sorry it took me so long!

Viktor

He’s very educated on menstrual cycles to begin with! (Biology nerd)

Definitely has a calendar and keeps track of all your cycles.

The day before you’re supposed to get your period he comes home from shopping and restocks on food and pads, tampons, ibuprofen etc.

Would definitely give you a massage to help with cramps.

“Beloved?” Viktor knocked from behind the door before proceeding to enter your shared room. "I got what you needed," he said, setting down the grocery bag containing both the tampons and pads. “And these," he added, revealing a variety of your favorite chocolates, salty chips, and even a bottle of your preferred tea.

You blinked at him, your expression shifting from surprise to gratitude. "You didn't have to-"

“Tsk, tsk, tsk” He quickly shushed you. His free hand reaching to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I wanted to. Now, do me a favor and relax." Before you could protest or question any further, he knelt down by your side, his clever hands carefully lifting the edge of the blanket. "Turn over, Darling” he coaxed, and when you complied, he placed his hands on your lower back, his touch warm and deliberate.

"I read this helps," Viktor murmured as his fingers began to work small, soothing circles into your tense muscles. You feel your muscles loosen and quickly melt into Viktor’s touch.

His hands run a little on the colder side, yet they still work their magic and alleviate the pain in your abdomen.

"You're too good to me," you murmured, your voice muffled as you rested your head against your arm.

"Nonsense," Viktor replied, his voice low and unwavering. "You endure so much… this is the least I can do." He says leaving a small gentle kiss on your cheek.

Jayce

He’s the biggest softy for you on your period oh boy oh boy oh boy. He is completely at your beck and call.

He’s also super carful about your emotional during this time. He tries his hardest to leave work on time and come home!

He understands mood swings can happen and he’s very patient! He accidentally messed up and ticked you off? He’ll nod along as you lecture him and act like a kicked puppy. Then afterwards will ask if you’re okay and if you need space. Will 100% make up and apologize by getting you a sweet treat :3

Jayce finally made his way back home, shoulders heavy and tense. his tie askew and his hair slightly mussed, looking like he'd run the entire way home. You stand up from your place on the couch and place a soft kiss on his lips. “Welcome home” you smile at home before your eyes lower to see an empty handed Jayce. "You forgot?" you said quietly, your voice heavy with disappointment.

Jayce froze, guilt washing over his face. "Forgot what?"

"The heating pad," you replied, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. "You said you'd grab it on your way home. I've been in pain all day, Jayce."

His heart sank. "Oh no," he whispered moving to run a hand down his hair. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I don't know how I missed it…”. He thinks for a moment before he says, “That’s on me, and I'll fix it right now!" He turned to leave, planning to head straight back to the lab.

"No... that's alright Jayce, just please remember next time." You grab hold of his sleeve. He let out a soft sigh and turned around to face you.

"I'm so sorry about that sweetheart... Honestly I was just excited to get back home to you is all." He mumbled into your hair as he pulled you into a hug.

"No no it's fine really, it's not too big of a deal" The warmth of his body slowly encapsulating itself protectively over you.

“No you should be upset it’s okay! I’ll be more responsible next time.” His puppy eyes glowing as if he almost wanted you to be mad at him. It was incredibly difficult to deny Jayce whenever he would behave like this…

“I uh…. O-okay?…. Please do better next time.” Your eyes are looking at anything else but at him.

"... you need to be mad at me until I figure out how to make it up to you." His strong arm coming up from behind to softly pat your side. "How does that sound?"

You laugh off the pervious nerves “I think that sounds perfect" You tilt your head up to face him and press a warm soft kiss to his cheek.

Vi

Okay I feel like for Vi for some reason you two would always be synced

She’s all tough and prepared on day one until day two hits and… that’s a different story

You always end up completely staying home together on the second day of your periods

You groaned as another cramp hit, curling further into yourself under the layers of warmth. Next to you, Vi let out a sharp exhale through her nose, gripping the heat pack on her stomach.

"This is some sick joke," Vi muttered, her voice heavy with irritation. She shifts on the bed, but the movement only made her wince. "I could take a punch to the gut, no problem, but this? This is worse than any fight I've been in."

You scoot closer towards Vi drapes an arm over you, pulling you snug against her chest. Her hand found your hair, fingers threading through it lazily.

"We're a mess," you mumbled into her tank top.

"Yeah," she admitted, pressing her cheek against the top of your head. "But at least we're a mess together."

Vi is totally one to do a complete 180 on the next day.

While you’re still dying of pain she manages to get out of bed early and heads to the store to pick up some stuff

Vi's heavy boots thudded softly against the floor, the sound bringing a flicker of relief. "Alright, babe," her familiar rasp broke the silence, “I got a couple of things for you”

“Don’t you mean us?” You sit up straight and tilt your head a little confused.

“Oh no, I’m doing fine sweetheart don’t you worry. But… I know you probably still feel like a sack of shit so I picked up some goodies for you.” she pulled out an assortment of snacks like chips, gummy candy, soda, juice..(if it had sugar she’s go it!…)

“If these cramps won’t kill me… the amount of sugar here will…” Your eyebrows furrowed at the mess of snacks in front of you.

“Oh pip down will you? Haven’t even gotten to the best part.” What she pulled out next made your breath hitch. It was a small, ridiculously cute plushie. A chubby fox with big shiny eyes and a fluffy tail. Vi plopped it onto your lap as she smirked from your reaction. “Cute huh?” She sits down next to you. “I picked it out cuz it reminded me of you”

Your face flushed instantly, a mix of embarrassment and warmth flooding through you. You picked up the fox, turning it over in your hands. Its fluffy tail was so soft it almost felt unreal, and the wide, shiny eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the room. "Reminded you of me?" you asked, glancing at Vi with a raised brow.

“Yeah well… it’s cute and small.. so it reminds me of you.” She leaned back against the headboard, “And it’s a little spunky. Just like you.”

You roll your eyes and softly punch her shoulder. "It does cheer me up," you admitted softly, clutching the plush fox closer. "Thank you, Vi."

She wraps an arm around you shoulder and pulls you in “No problem Cupcake, anything for you.”

Ekko

HES PANICKING

but in the outside he’s cool as a cucumber

The inside? oh god. He’s stressing out about making sure all your needs are met.

You are not allowed to go on missions during this time at all. He doesn’t exactly forbid it per say but he does shoot a glare whenever you flinch due to the pain of your cramps. He’s always behind you making sure you’re okay

He’s like a little momma bird

You were currently getting ready for a mission, bag laying across the table as you carefully prepare stuffing it full of food, medical supplies, bombs and your trusty lock pick. Ekko leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that ever so perceptive gaze of his.

"You good?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, fine," you replied, wincing as another cramp twisted in your stomach. You shake your head cursing at your own reaction.

He was by your side in seconds, gently taking the pack from your hands. "You're lying."

“Ekko please…” you straightened your back. "I'm fine," you insisted, reaching for the pack again, but Ekko held it out of reach.

reach.

"You think I don't notice you wincing every five seconds?" His voice softened, though his eyes stayed firm. "You can't go out like this.”

“I’m not some baby. Believe me I’ll be just fine.”you protested, though even you could hear how unconvincing you

“Look… you sound way too unconvincing and because you’re way too stubborn…” He paused looking at you and finally smiling. “How about I skip out on this mission too? And you know.. take care of my girl?.” A proud and playful smile adorns his lips while he waits for your response.

You’re a little surprised, not because he doesn’t put you first but because he’s allowing himself to relax in a way as well. “Are you sure about that?" you ask, your voice softer than you intended. "I mean... this mission sounds important. I don't want you to–“

"Stop." He cuts you off gently, stepping closer. The distance between you shrinks, and you feel his hand come to rest on your shoulder, steady and warm. "I've been out there long enough to know the world ain't gonna fall apart if I sit one out." He takes a deep breath and continues, "I know I push myself too hard sometimes. And yeah, protecting our people is important and all, but so is being here. With you. What's the point of fighting if I can't take a moment to enjoy what I'm fighting for?"

“Ekko…” His words hit you harder than you expected, the vulnerability in them catching you off guard.

"Yeah firefly?…” He tilts his head, watching you carefully. His hands fidgeting together like a nervous child.

You let out a small sigh, your resolve crumbling. "Just... don't make a habit of this, okay? The Firelights need you."

"They'll manage," he says with a wink. "I'll make it up to 'em. Promise." He finally makes his way over to you placing a small kiss on your neck before continuing. “But let me make it up to you first okay?”

Jinx

18+

Okay jinx is an absolute horndog when you’re on your period

You got cramps? Uhhhh…. Solution????… her mouth and fingers.

“Love bug come onnnnnn! You know making you cum will help with cramps! What’s the big deal?” She sighed dramatically flopping over the table in front of her.

“Love bug?…” You questioned. “And the deal is I’m on my period!…. I don’t want to make a big mess for you to deal with okay.” You huffed out embarrassed at her playful yet lewd antics.

“Yeah! Love bug cuz you love me and you’re always buzzing around me! Like a bug!” Jinx proudly exclaimed her bright idea of a nickname, perhaps a bit too proudly… “And besides! Me?… care about a mess? You’re kidding right?” she looks almost offended but the fact you assumed she wouldn't do this for you.

“Jinx… I just feel gross okay… I don’t really feel super desirable right now.” You sighed placing your face into your hands.

She bangs her fists on the table and jumps up from her seat. “You’re fucking joking right? You’re smoking babe. SMOKING. Like SMOKING HOT! Her arms waved around as she talked to draw out more emphasis to her claim. She lets out a playful scoff “It’s taking every fiber of my being to not pounce on you right now!”

“Jinx… knock it off…” you bit your lip embarrassed and turned away. “I know that isn’t true at all… quit being too nice.”

“Doll…. You’re way too into your own head! I’m saying I wanna bang and you think I’m lyin?” She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head. “No no no we can’t be having that! Doll come here.”

Your expression as you looked at her told Jinx you in fact did not know who to believe. You’re corrupt emotions or your loving girlfriend? Either way you walked to her and stopped till you were in front of her. She quickly cupped your face and pulled you into a deep inviting kiss. Her hands roam softly along your body, gently holding and squeezing every part she loved.

She breaks away from the kiss and looks at you, her voice more serious than you’d like it to be. “Y/N you’re always going to be perfect to me, there’s no way in hell l’d ever be grossed out by you.” She leans in closer and softly leaves kisses along your collar “Besides I wanna love you. I wanna make you feel so crazy good you won’t even remember all your dumb troubles.”

Mel

MEL MEL MEL MEL MEL 😻 fancy rich lady who spoils you

While I do think she’ll still be super busy with work, she’ll most definitely make sure your body is been taken care of.

She lets the chef know your nutritional needs, taking notes you need more iron in your diet.

And when she does come home it’s all kisses, cuddles and praise getting sent your way!

Since she could remember, Mel could take care of just about anything. It didn’t matter if it was a delicate political negotiation or ensuring you felt cared for on your worst days, she had an effortless way of making you feel like the center of her world

The moment she left for the council meeting that morning, you heard her speaking quietly with the private chef, listing off ingredients and dietary adjustments with her usual precision. "She needs more iron," you overheard her say, her voice warm yet firm. "Spinach, lentils, maybe some lean meat. And add something sweet but not too high in sugar content. She deserves to enjoy herself, but make sure it stay healthy for my sake.

Hours later, as you lay curled up on the couch, a warm blanket draped over you, the scent of something savory wafted through the air. The chef had outdone himself, delivering a meal tailored exactly to what your body needed, paired with a small plate of indulgent chocolate covered fruits. It brought a soft smile to your lips. Mel always thought of everything, she always thought of you.

the front door finally opened, the sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor announced her arrival. You craned your neck to look at her, and the moment her golden eyes landed on you, her expression softened.

"There's my love," she murmured, setting her things aside and making a beeline for you.

"Hello darling, long day?" you asked, your voice soft.

"Not anymore," she replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before settling beside you on the couch. Her hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin. "How are you feeling? Did you eat?"

You nodded. "The food was perfect. Thank you for taking care of it."

“Oh? So you heard me did you?”She hummed in satisfaction, pulling you gently into her. Her arms wrapped around you snugly, her fingers trailing softly along your back in soothing patterns. "You've been so strong," she whispered. "But you don't have to be right now. Let me take care of you”

You melted into her embrace, feeling the tension in your body ease as she held you. "You deserve the world," she murmured, her voice full of affection. "And I intend to give it to you, one kiss or gentle word at a time. You will be shown my love”

ERM SO A LINE FROM JAYCE’S PART IS FROM XAVIER’S NEW CARD FROM LOVE AND DEEPSPACE! I recently pulled it and oh my god…. It’s been stuck in my mind…. ANYWAYS HOPE YOU ENJOYED

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Bob Reynolds X Reader: Sunday Funday pt 1

a/n: oh this was 100% inspired by the beach scene in top gun maverick. Because one thing about me is if lewis pullman is playing a character named bob i'll probably fall for him.

Warnings: smut, sexual activities, oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk (bob and his dirty mouth), cursing, competition, mentions of insecurity (very little), no use of y/n, switch!reader and switch!bob (i think anyway), female anatomy, male anatomy.

Words: 3,5K (oh yeah i'm obsessed)

Part 2

Working as the new Avengers was hard. You were constantly out on missions, trying to solve the world’s problems, and rarely had time to just relax together as a team. Because of this, you came up with the idea that every Sunday, you’d all go out together just to have fun. Of course, you'd stay on call in case the world needed you, but it was made clear to Valentina that unless it was an extreme emergency requiring the new Avengers, she was not to contact you on Sundays.

Each week, a different team member was in charge of planning the day’s activities. This time, it was your turn. Wanting a break from everything, you decided a beach day was in order. You rented a house, packed everyone into a car, and headed to a secluded stretch of coast—no real itinerary, just a chance to unwind without worrying about the world or your own responsibilities.

Everyone spent the afternoon lounging around, drinking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company. That’s when Walker suggested playing a game—just a bit of healthy competition to get the blood pumping. But you knew him well enough to realize there was no way this would stay friendly, not with your team.

With seven of you, splitting into even teams wasn’t possible, but you made it work. Team One consisted of you, Bob, Bucky, and Yelena. Team Two was Alexei, John Walker, and Ava—much to her disappointment.

Bob had turned to you the moment you’d picked him for your team, hands fiddling with his shirt.

 “I’ve never been that great at sports.”

You gave him a gentle smile, tugging your own shirt over your head. Bob starred as your skin was revealed to him. He wasn’t being discreet, but you were so focused on cussing out Walker for telling you to hurry up already that you didn’t notice his ogling eyes. As soon as you shifted to face him, he hurried to look at anything else. You placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to stare into your eyes.

 “Don’t worry about it, okay? We’re here to have fun.”

John said something else, causing an uproar of groans and complaints from the rest of the crew. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm. With a small sigh, you opened them again, leaning into Bob’s body so you could whisper in his ear.

 “But between you and me, beating Walker would put me in a hell of a good mood.”

It was such an innocent phrase, truly it was. But the proximity of your skin made Bob’s mind conjure up all sorts of innuendo.

Okay, so here’s the thing. Bob likes you. He’s had a thing for you since you took him under your wing in the death vault Valentina had sent you to. But Bob was a shy guy, and that made things hard for him. He wasn’t exactly inexperienced, but his brain liked to betray him and make him feel insufficient. He was trying to deal with his negative thoughts, but when it came to you, he couldn’t seem to convince himself there was even a small possibility that you’d like him back. So he suffered in silence every time you touched him, or told him he was doing a good job, or smiled at him after coming back from a long mission.

Bob was whipped, and you had no idea.

Of course John had gone and picked to play Dogfight Football. Typical John wanting to show off. But he underestimated your competitive drive. You had a super soldier and a red room assassin on your team and by god you were going to beat him. The game started off gently, just trying to have some fun as a crew. But it quickly turned into a full blown competition. Somewhere in the chaos Bob started to feel affected by the heat.

There was sweat all over his chest causing his shirt to stick to him in an uncomfortable way. He called out your name to tell you he needed a second and for you to watch his flank. You gave him a small nod, preparing yourself to move your attention back to your opponents. But then Bob started tugging at his shirt and your brain became foggy. You watched as his abs slowly became revealed to you, lips opening in silent shock. Holy fuck he was ripped. You’d never put much thought to the subject of what hid beneath Bob’s baggy clothes. The knowledge was making it hard to pull your eyes away from him. 

Something rushed past you with a holler, wind blowing in your face at the speed. But you didn’t flinch, you were glued to your spot. Someone called out your name and you finally managed to snap out of it. Yelena gave your shoulder a light push.

“What was that? John was coming right at you, why didn’t you stop him?”

She wasn’t fighting with you. Not really. She was just competitive and really pissed that John had managed a score after your team had been winning for so long. Bob watched the exchange, eyes finding yours just as you managed to close your mouth and turn to look at Yelena.

“Sorry. I was distracted. Won’t happen again.”

“Just admit it. You guys suck.”

“Shut up Walker!” You and Yelena yelled in unison.

John raised his hands in surrender, eyes widening as he laughed. You turned to look at Bob for  a moment before bringing your attention back to Yelena and Bucky, who had now joined you. 

“Let’s beat this fucker.”

You nodded at your teammates body buzzing with desire to rip the smug smile off Walker's face. And another desire you forced yourself to push down. 

It was going well. You were managing to keep John’s team from scoring, but they were doing a good job keeping you away too. You were becoming more and more frustrated. You had the ball in your grip, racing past John as you tried to score. You were prepared to throw the ball to Yelena just as Ava tackled her.

Fuck. Where was Bucky?

You spotted him just as Alexei shoved him away. Oh great, you were gonna fucking lose.

And then, by some stroke of absolute luck, your eyes found Bob. No one was near him—everyone else was too busy with your other teammates to even think about taking Bob out of the equation. John was gaining on you. You had to throw the ball.

Your eyes locked with Bob’s, your head moving slightly to signal your intent. His eyes widened in alarm. Before he could shake his head to tell you this was a bad idea, you’d already thrown the ball.

Everything moved in slow motion. You watched the ball float through the air, eyes tracing its path. Bob reached his hands out, preparing to catch it. John realized what was happening a second too late.

Silence filled the beach.

Bob had scored.

A yell left your lips before you could stop it. You raced over to him, jumping into his arms in celebration. He caught you on instinct, letting your legs wrap around his waist as he held you by the ass. You kept shouting victoriously as he spun you around.

Bob’s eyes were locked on your grinning face. The way the light hit you from behind gave you a kind of ethereal glow. He found himself completely captivated, heart pounding against his chest as he reveled in your beauty.

He stopped spinning you around just as you stopped yelling. You looked down at his chest rising and falling as you tried to breath after being in motion for so long. You gave him a full toothed smile causing him to give you a lopsided grin. Your gaze moved from his eyes to his lips. 

You wanted to kiss him. 

The sudden thought surprised you. It was then that you noticed the position you were in. His hands were on your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he kept you in the air with unexpected ease. Your chest was perfectly at his eye level and your core was resting against his abs. A blush crept onto your cheeks. You weren’t sure if Bob had noticed it or not but he hurried to put you down. As soon as you were back on the ground he took a step back, hand moving to rub his neck in slight embarrassment. You opened your mouth to say something but before you could your team had come rushing over to congratulate Bob. Even John had patted the man on his back.

“Good job Bob.”

He smiled at the others in silent thanks. He turned to find your face in the crowd, wanting to see how you reacted to the others giving him praise but you were nowhere to be found. He turned to search for you, eye catching your frame just as you entered the house through the front door. 

You felt parched. Your body was sweaty and hot but not because of the exercise you’d just partaken in. You were flushed. You could still feel the way Bob's skin touched yours, a wave of desire rushing through you. You made your way to the sink throwing some water on your face in a futile attempt to cool down. You breathed out a sigh, pulling open the fridge to get a sip of lemonade. You needed to take a shower. Needed to wash the grime off and, quite possibly, take care of the little situation that was starting to blossom between your legs. 

“You okay?”

You startled at the sound of his voice, body going into a coughing fit as the lemonade went down the wrong tube. Bob rushed over to you in a flash, removing the jug from your hand as he patted your back in an attempt to help the coughing stop. After a moment you managed to swallow properly.

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It's okay. You just surprised me.”

You moved away from the fridge, allowing Bob to place the jug back in its proper place and close the door. You forced yourself to not look at his abs, head moving to glance out the window. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

Your head snapped back towards Bob. He stood a couple steps from you, hands fiddling with the strings of his trunks as he stared at the floor. You cursed yourself. When you’d rushed away you’d only been thinking of getting out of the situation before your body couldn’t take it anymore. You hadn't even stopped to think how Bob might take your departure. You moved towards him, hand moving to grab onto his bicep. The muscles fluxed under your touch and you almost fainted. Stop it you horny fuck. 

“I thought I did a good job.”

“Oh Bob you did! You were so great out there, truly.”

Bob lifted his gaze from the floor, staring into your eyes.

“So why did you run away?”

He gave you his best puppy eyes as he asked the question, making you curse yourself even more. You bit your lip. This was possibly going to turn really awkward but you preferred telling him the truth instead of having him thinking you hated him or something. You took a step back, trying to maintain your composure.

“I left because-oh god-because I wanted to kiss you. And I wasn't sure how you’d feel about that so I just needed to get out before I did something drastic.”

You looked down at your feet as you finished speaking. You couldn’t look at his face. You just couldn’t. Because if he seemed to show interest in your words you wouldn’t be able to control the desire that burned through you. And if he seemed revolted by the idea you wouldn’t be able to handle the weight of your breaking heart. 

Bob stared at you for a moment, taking in the way you recoiled into yourself. He knew the stance well, it was practically his go to pose. Fear of rejection was a thing he’d always dealt with. But thinking that you–beautiful, amazing, wonderful you–could even think he wouldn’t want you shocked him to his core. 

Your eyes shot up to his face as he called out your name. He was closer to you now, his body practically buzzing with some barely controlled emotion. He lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment before cupping your cheek. He leaned down slowly, giving you time to react. You stayed still, allowing him to kiss you. As soon as his lips met yours you were done for. Your hands gripped onto his neck pulling him closer. Bob took the hint, tongue lapping at your lips. You allowed him to deepen the kiss, a groan leaving your mouth as his other hand squeezed your waist. 

Your legs widened so that he could slot himself between them. He pulled away to breath, shifting his grip onto your body so he could lift you up onto the counter before he claimed your mouth again. You whimpered as he shifted against you, his bulge rocking against your clothed cunt. Bob noticed the reaction, a bit of pride welling in his chest. He pulled away from your lips, shushing you softly as you whined because of the loss of his lips. His hand moved over your bikini bottoms.

“Can I take these off?”

“Yes.”

You lifted your hips, helping him tug them off your body. The cool counter beneath your ass causes you to jolt. Bob's hands moved to caress your legs, warming the skin without even meaning to. He places a kiss on your neck, before moving to whisper in your ear.

“I want to taste you. Will you let me?”

“Oh fuck. Please Bob.”

He smiled against your skin, moving away from you so that he could sink onto his knees. You stared at him from above, biting into your lip so hard you were surprised you didn’t draw blood. He looked so fucking good like this. Bob’s hands moved against your thighs, tugging you slightly forwards so he could have better access to you. He tugged your legs over his shoulders, placing a kiss to your thigh.  He stared at your glistening pussy. You were wetter than he’d expected. And the knowledge that he’d managed to get you worked up like this, without even meaning to begin with, made him so incredibly hard. 

He placed a lick to your slit, just to test the waters. You reacted immediately, hand moving to grip his hair as your head leaned against the cupboards. Bob took that as a sign to keep going. He gave you another lick, more forceful this time, and you keened. Bob was good at this. You were trying so hard to not moan at every little move of his but it felt impossible. He knew just the right spots to make you a whining mess above him. 

“Feels so good baby.”

Bob just hummed into you, acknowledging your praise without detaching himself from your folds. 

“Keep going Bob-oh shirt-I’m close.”

That spurred him on. His hands grabbed onto your thighs shoving his face impossibly closer. The action caused him to bump his nose against your clit and in a matter of seconds you were coating his face with your cum. Your body shook as you orgasmed, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your legs locked around Bob's face. He helped you through it, only stopping once your grip on his hair slackened and your legs relaxed around him. He pushed your legs off his shoulder causing you to groan in discomfort. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

You tugged him into a kiss before he could even get himself upright fully. 

“That was the best orgasm of my life.”

You moved to kiss his neck, making him groan,eyes closing as he tilted his head to the side.

“So don't you dare apologise. You hear me?”

“Yeah-fuck-don’t stop.”

You smile against his skin, sinking your teeth into his neck softly. His hips were slotted against yours as he humped into you. His hard on was straining against his pants. He desperately wanted to take care of it. As if you’d read his mind, your hand moved to palm at him through his trunks. 

Bob couldn't help the pants that left his mouth. The combined feeling of you licking at his neck and the chaefing of his trunks against his dick as you caressed him was making his brain fuzzy. And then you pulled away from him, pushing his body slightly back so that you could kneel before him and he almost creamed his shorts.

You wasted no time, pausing only to ask Bob if you could pull his shorts down, before going to work. His dick slapped at his stomach as it became free. You licked your lips, hands moving to give him a few tentative strokes before beginning to kitten lick his tip. Bob was trying so hard to keep his hands to himself, afraid that any movements he made would throw you off. 

“You can touch me Bob. You won’t hurt me.”

“O-okay.”

One of his hands settled on your head just as you took him into his mouth. The other gripped onto the counter behind him to keep his stable as you worked to bring him to heaven with your mouth.Your tongue swirled around his dick before focusing on the vein on its underside. Bob gasped as your hands moved to caress his balls. His knuckles were turning white with how hard he was gripping at the counter. He twitched into your mouth signalling you that he was close. You pulled aways for a moment, a string of spit still connecting you to his dick.

“Come on Bob. Be a good boy and cum down my throat.”

And Bob did exactly that. He waited one second so that you could place him back in your mouth before his orgasm shot through him like a bullet. His ass rested slightly against the counter as he struggled to breath normally. You continued on the floor for a moment, merely watching his ragged breaths leave his body. When you finally decided to raise from the floor Bob's hand found your frame, immediately pulling you into a soft kiss.

Bob didn’t feel satiated. He wanted more. He wanted you to consume his body. Wanted to feel you clench around him as you came. He wanted to fuck you so hard the headboard broke. He opened his mouth to tell you this just as the unmistakable sound of the back door opening filled the kitchen. Your eyes widened, realizing what the noise meant. 

The team was coming inside. 

You weren’t wearing any bottoms. And Bob's dick was just hanging out of his trunks. He moved to shove it back into his shorts before helping you desperately search for your bikini bottoms. 

You'd managed to tug them on just as Alexie made it into the kitchen. He barely noticed you, going straight to the fridge to grab a bear. You threw a towel at Bob, trying to pretend you’d been washing the dishes and he was helping you dry them off. The charade worked well. None of the others seemed to notice your flushed states as they moved through the kitchen to grab drinks before going to their rooms or to the bathroom to shower. Once Ava had left the kitchen you finally let out a breath of relief.

“That was close.”

“Yeah.”

Bob turned to face you, hanging up the towel you’d given him before leaning to whisper in your ear.

“It's a shame too. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

You flushed at his words. You’d never expect Bob to act so blatantly flirty. Maybe you brought out this side of him. Not that you were complaining. You gave him a sly grin, placing a kiss on his lips.

“Hey, what's for dinner?”

Yeleanas voice caused you to jump away from Bob, half expecting her to be right in front of you. You’d almost forgotten you were on dinner duty. 

“I’ll figure something out! Just go get cleaned up!”

The rest of the teams yelled out their “okays”. Bob turned to look at you again, his hand holding onto your hip.

“You need help?”

“No it’s okay. I got it covered.”

“Alrighty.”

He placed a peck to your lips and turned to exit the kitchen. He stopped just as the threshold, standing there for a moment as if he was trying to make his mind up about something. Before you could ask him about it he turned to look over his shoulder.

“You work on dinner. Cause i’ve already got a desert planned.”

With a wicked smile, that did not look like it should fit on his sweet face but somehow did perfectly, he turned and made his way out the door. You’d never wanted to finish making a meal so fast in your life.

[dolcecherub]

off the record ‧͙⁺˚*･☾

♡ pairing: oscar piastri x media manager!reader

♡ tags: social media manager reader, lowkey tension, deadpan oscar, pining oscar, frustrated reader lol, happy ending, fluff

♡ yap: this was inspired by this fic here by the lovely @papayainsectorone, they wrote this dynamic so well and the smut is *chefs kiss* i was craving more build up so here's my take on it :) honestly wasn't expecting to have another fic out so soon but i'm in the writing mood, so expect maybe some smut soon lol

♡ word count: 4.6k

Being Oscar Piastri’s social media manager sounded a hell of a lot cooler on paper.

The reality? A full-time position in pure damage control and editing. 

It wasn’t that Oscar was a bad guy, quite the opposite actually. He was annoyingly likable. But in an industry of personalities so polished you could see your reflections in them, Oscar was… well, Oscar. Dry-humoured, mostly straight-faced, foreign with emojis aside from the simple smiley face. Not even a golden retriever puppy in a McLaren hoodie could crack a big smile from the man.

You had tried everything and it was quite easy to say that the last few months had been hell. 

You wrote him fun captions, you scheduled posts, and briefed him before interviews. And yet he would still deadpan his way through as many interactions as he possibly could, switching up your pre-written captions for three-word ones. If you were lucky, maybe he’d add a song to it. 

Once, in a fatal attempt, you had practically begged Oscar to do a TikTok trend. His response?

“I’d rather crash into a barrier and get stuck in a gravel trap.”

Still, you kept at it. You filtered photos, crafted witty tweets and captions, and edited videos for TikTok, so he at least looked 20% more charming and 100% engaged. But Oscar remained the same, calm, collected, and chronically unbothered. 

It drove you crazy, and some part of you was convinced Oscar found joy in riling you up, the tension spiralling between you two. 

Until one day, you just…stopped.

It was after an interview in which Oscar said, “Yeah, the car was good,” followed by a few simple remarks about the overall race and the car, even though you had specifically coached him on how to highlight the team’s efforts and the new upgrades. You sat there, watching the video on your laptop, the PR director sending you questioning looks. Something in you just gave up.

If Oscar didn’t care, why should you?

This time, instead of doubling down and trying harder to fix it, you shifted gears. 

You kept running the socials, kept building out the calendar, kept coordinating cross-posts with sponsors. You threw yourself into season promos for some rookies, drafted killer captions for Lando (who did, in fact, appreciate them, often adding his own flair as well). Hell, you even helped restructure the entire engagement strategy for McLaren’s YouTube account. Your inbox was still flooded, deadlines still to be met. You were still good at your job, just focusing your attention elsewhere rather than bending over backwards for Oscar. 

You still gave him the essentials. Posted his podium shots with a simple caption fit for him, uploaded interview clips without the usual fun editing. You stopped chasing him for quotes and thoughts, and generally stopped fighting for moments he didn’t want to give.

And weirdly enough, it all kept going. 

Oscar didn’t change, of course, the fans still adored him, his dry wit, his blank expressions, the accidental charisma of someone who didn’t try at all, or didn’t have to. People enjoyed his slightly sarcastic comments post-race, and so what if his metrics slightly dipped? It’s not like he necessarily noticed it. 

You still saw him every day, still worked around him, still made space for him on the schedule, but not in your head. Not in that quiet, careful way you used to. Perhaps you had gotten too close, you reeled. No more last-minute efforts to make him sound polished, no more staying late to re-edit his posts, not when you had better things to do for people who truly cared. 

And if he noticed the shift, the quiet space you left where your effort used to live, he didn’t say a word. Which, somehow, was more than enough. 

✧༺♥༻∞

It was a Thursday morning, and everything had been off.

You were running late, which, truthfully, rarely happened. A sponsor call had run longer than it should’ve, your usual transportation route taking a detour you were unaware of, and your badge wouldn’t scan at the main paddock gate. By the time you finally walked through the McLaren hospitality, your hair had been haphazardly clipped up, your phone was at 3%, and your brain was somewhere between caffeine withdrawal and a full-on system crash. 

You exhaled sharply, finally getting a moment to catch your breath. You pulled open the media schedule to hopefully catch up before the day truly began, your head slightly spinning as you barely noticed the figure leaning against the wall. 

Oscar.

He was dressed in team gear, the orange always sitting well with his skin tone as he had a basic black ball cap on and some shorts, his bag slung over his shoulder with a hand in his pocket. He looked casual, calm. 

As per usual. 

His other hand held out something to you as he walked closer. A coffee cup.

You looked up at him curiously, head tilting slightly as you lowered your tablet. “What’s this?” 

“Coffee,” he said simply. “Obviously.” 

You eyed it, seeing your name written on the side as your jaw twitched at his tone.

“...What kind of coffee?” You asked, his eyes roaming your face.

“Extra hot. Two sugars. Oat milk and a shot of caramel.” He said like it was nothing, as if he hadn’t just recited your exact order back to you, heart stammering against your chest. 

You brought your hand up, taking it from him, fingers brushing his slightly. Your jaw nearly dropped with shock. Why hadn’t he listened like this during pre-interview briefings? 

It was still warm to hold, still fresh. The lid was secured the way you always preferred, double cups, the lid pressed down tight with no drips at the seam.

You searched his face for expressions, “You got this for me?” You asked, albeit a silly question.

Oscar shrugged, arms crossing against his chest, his biceps stretching the sleeves of his shirt, his eyes straying from yours. “You’re usually here earlier. Figured you didn’t have time to stop for one.” He said as if it meant nothing.

A beat passed, your heart skipping that exact beat. 

You swallowed. “I didn’t.”

Another pause, your face flushing slightly. 

“Thank you,” You said finally, voice far quieter than before. 

He nodded, not smug, just acknowledging, as if that was the end of it. As if he hadn’t just undone a week’s worth of you convincing yourself that he didn’t notice you slipping away. 

He adjusted the strap on his shoulder and added, “I wasn’t sure if it was oat or almond. Figured it was oat, you seem like it.”

You blinked, brows furrowing slightly in confusion. “Why?”

He gave you the faintest smirk, “Almond milk people always have something to prove.” He joked. 

You huffed, surprised by the small, shaky breath of laughter it pulled out of you. Perhaps you did understand the population’s obsession with him. 

Oscar turned to leave, no further acknowledgement, no comment on your attire or the lack of polish to your appearance this morning, no follow-up. Just the quietest moment between you two, the coffee in your hand warming your palm cozily, his smirk setting your pulse to quicken. 

He didn’t look back. 

Although it didn’t matter, because you were already watching him go, heart quietly pounding.

So he did notice. 

Even when you thought he didn’t. 

✧༺♥༻∞

A few weeks had passed, and you were getting yourself ready for the following race weekend. The past few weeks had been the same, doing more for others to keep yourself while keeping Oscar entertained with the bare minimum. 

Now, it started with a headache.

Then came the chills, the sore throat, the kind of fatigue that sank into your bones like wet cement, weighing you down impossibly. You told yourself it was nothing, stress maybe, but by the time the race weekend rolled around, you couldn’t even sit up without your head spinning. 

You did what you had to. You called in sick, feeling bad, although you had not done so before while working with the team.

Just one day, you told yourself. Just one race day. The team could surely handle it, you had pre-scheduled most of the posts anyway, as well as sending over any notes and ideas you had to the rest of the team to follow. And it wasn’t like Oscar would notice. He barely spoke to you when you were there anyway. 

So you stayed in your hotel room, curtains drawn, laptop closed, and haphazardly thrown onto the armchair next to the bed. You had wrapped yourself in two blankets, your body settled with a chill that wouldn’t leave. You drifted in and out of sleep, vaguely aware of your phone buzzing a few times, your body far too sleepy to pay attention, let alone respond. 

Around 6 p.m., there was a knock on the door. 

You blinked, trying to figure out if it was in your room or a distant noise in the hall. You felt your stomach clench, mostly empty aside from a few pieces of toast from earlier in the afternoon and water. 

Another knock sounded on the door. Firmer this time, followed by silence. 

You dragged yourself up, wincing as the floor spun. You brushed your hair down slightly and wiped away any sleep from your eyes, your body shivering from the sudden chill after emerging from your blankets. You cracked the door open slowly, expecting the hotel staff, perhaps with a message from the team or even room service. 

It was neither.

Oscar stood in front of you, simply dressed in a quarter zip and some jeans, his hair slightly tousled. He still looked calm, a medium sized brown paper bag in one hand and a plastic container in the other. You froze, so did he, though only for a second, just enough to make you think he hadn’t expected you to actually open the door. 

“Hi,” you croaked, your throat aching and sore, raw from not speaking all day. 

“You’ve sure seen better days, hm?,” he asked rhetorically, face deadpan.

You raised a brow, now feeling slightly embarrassed at the state he was seeing you in as you shamefully brushed your messy hair down as well as possible. “Thanks…”

“I meant it in a supportive way.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the doorway, suddenly feeling fairly light headed again, simply too tired to question what the hell was going on. “Why are you here?”

He shifted the bag in his hand, fixing his grip, eyes not meeting yours. “You didn’t show up today. You don’t not show up.”

You swallowed sorely, “I texted the team, told them I was sick.”

“Yeah,” he said, tone quiet, “but you didn’t text me.” 

That shut you up.

Oscar cleared his throat, holding out the plastic container filled with soup. “It’s the one you always get when it’s cold, the one from the random organic store down the street. You know, the one with the weird green logo.” 

Your chest tightened, his eyes trailing back up to yours. 

“And I brought some ginger tea bags. And the gummy vitamins you always hoard in the media van.” 

You stared at the bag in his hand, and then back up at him, his eyes dark, cheeks slightly pink, surely from being in the sun all day. “You walked across the paddock to get those?” 

“They deliver. I’m not that heroic.” He joked. You knew as a matter of fact that they didn’t deliver, you had most definitely asked more than once before, but you supposed Oscar didn’t want to admit that he had done that for you.

You exhaled a half-laugh, quiet, slightly painful and unsteady. 

Oscar looked at you, no smirk, no blank stare. Just something softer, eyes relaxed, something he could barely hold back. 

“Can I come in?” he asked after a pause, “Just to make sure you don’t choke on soup or something.” He teased.

You stepped aside, far too tired to joke and too tired to pretend like you didn’t want to be taken care of. 

He stepped in, toeing off his shoes, then settling the soup and the bag on the table tucked in the hotel corner. You crawled back into bed, body immediately collapsing into the fluffed sheets as you sniffled. 

He walked around filling the room’s small kettle with some water before putting it to boil and opening up the soup container before bringing it and a spoon to the bedside table. You sleepily watched him quietly move around the room with a sense of ease, your heart aching at his actions. Hearing the kettle click, he grabbed a mug, opened up the tea bag case and popped one in before pouring in some water. Settling that beside you on the table, too, he finally glanced at you. 

“Come on, sit up. At least eat some of the soup before you fall asleep,” Oscar spoke, voice soft and convincing as he settled down into the armchair next to the bed, making sure to move your laptop before sitting. 

Pushing yourself up, you sat against the headboard, head spinning again. He passed you the soup, simply watching you eat as much as you could without feeling sick. Neither of you said anything, Oscar simply ensuring you were okay, passing you a napkin whenever you needed it.

Placing the empty container down on the bedside table, you wiped your sleeve across your mouth before sliding back down into bed. Oscar stood up, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders when you shifted with a wince as your eyes fluttered shut. His fingers brushed over your arm as he did, then simply brushing a few hairs off your forehead, your body shivering, not from the chill this time but rather from his touch. 

“I’m fine,” you spoke, voice extremely rough but quiet. 

He didn’t say anything. Just sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, hands now folded in his lap, his eyes flickering between you and the headboard as if he was doing anything to stop himself from looking at you for too long. 

You were the one to break the silence, eyes still shut. “You didn’t have to come.”

“I know,” he said. You felt your breath catch for a second, mind drifting slowly to sleep.

“Thank you, Osc.” You mumbled quietly, words slurring from fatigue. 

He hadn’t said anything after that. And so what if his gaze lingered a bit too long before he left that night? You would be none the wiser, head misty with sleep.

✧༺♥༻∞

Weeks later, at the start of a triple header, everything felt back to normal. Too normal. It grated your nerves more than ever.

Oscar was back to his usual self, low-effort captions, brushing off most interview questions with short answers, and ignoring half of your content ideas. After you had thought you’d made at least some progress, you found yourself rubbing your temple in frustration after he refused to film a “Pre-race ritual” TikTok a few sponsors had requested. 

You found him in the garage, talking to a mechanic, most likely about race strats. If only he spoke to the media with such enthusiasm. You walked towards him angrily, your tablet hanging at your fingertips, face flushed with anger. 

“Oscar, may I speak with you, please?” You asked, tone stern and straight to the point. 

His brows knitted together with confusion, the mechanic patting his arm twice before walking away. He tilted his head, following behind you as you led him to a meeting room. You closed the door, setting the tablet down on the desk before turning back to face Oscar, arms crossing angrily against your chest. You leaned back against the desk, staring him down momentarily before speaking.

“Why do you make this so hard?” You huffed, voice cracking slightly. You hate that it cracked.

“Make what hard?” He asked, mirroring your body language.

“This!” You said waving your arms around for emphasis. “Your image, your career. I bust my ass trying to make you look even remotely engaged in sponsorships and media day, and yet you act like you’re allergic to enthusiasm.” You ramble exasperatedly, catching your breath before you continue. “And then- then you go and do these little things, like buying me coffee or taking care of me when I’m sick. I’m not stupid Oscar, I know you’re not oblivious. You notice things, you care. But you pretend like you don’t and it’s… infuriating.”

He was quiet, not blinking, eyes still holding your gaze. He walked closer, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face before returning to his crossed-arm position, just now closer to you. Your heart pounded at his proximity. 

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating almost. 

“I don’t let people see it because once they do, they expect more. They expect a reaction every time a little blip happens. And I’m not good at more.”

You stared up at him, lips parted slightly. 

“I didn’t grow up under the impression of needing to be liked.” He spoke, eyes searching yours. “I wanted to drive. I wanted to win. But now, I’ve got people picking apart every expression, every quote, hell everything I don’t say. And you-you come into my life like this force to be reckoned with. You clean up my messes, making me look far better than I am. And it terrifies me.” He admitted truthfully.

He exhaled as though he hadn’t meant to say that last part, but it was too late now. 

“You make me want to try. Even though I don’t know how. And I hate that I let you do everything alone, I’m sorry I don’t cooperate more. I hate that I don’t say thank you when I should. I hate that I barely show what I feel because I’m scared that once I do, it’ll matter too much. That people will always want that, and I won’t be able to deliver.” Oscar spoke frantically.

Your breath caught, heart aching for being mean to him originally. “Oscar…” 

He continued, “I noticed when you stopped trying so hard,” He admitted, voice softer as he took a step closer. “And it scared the shit out of me because I thought that meant you were done. That I had pushed you too far. And if I lost you…I don’t know what I’d do.” 

And for the first time, you felt as though Oscar hadn’t just meant in terms of work. 

You stood still, heart hammering against your ribs. 

He stepped forward once more, practically caging you against the desk and himself. 

“I brought you coffee because I know you can barely function without it in the morning. I remember your order because you complained about the barista using a shot of vanilla instead of caramel once. I remember you like it extra hot because it keeps your hands warm while you’re out. I brought you soup because I know you hate being alone when you’re sick. I pay attention, even if I don’t always know what to say, but I do care, okay? Far more than I’ve let on.” He expressed, eyes fluttering across your face. “Maybe more than I should.” He confessed quietly, cheeks lightly flushing.

You stared at him, awestruck. The boy who never flinched on track, now looking completely exposed. 

You reached a hand towards him, pulling them away from his chest and placing them next to you on the desk, his body leaning slightly forward. 

And in a quiet, breaking voice, you said, “Then say it, tell me.” You plead.

His eyes didn’t leave yours. 

“I care about you,” his voice hoarse with emotion. “Not just because you make my life easier, even if I don’t make yours any easier,” he joked with a sarcastic huff before continuing. “Not just because you’re brilliant at your job. Because I care about you. And I think I’ve been falling for you since the day you yelled at me for skipping media day.” 

The silence returned, your body flushing at the confession and your breath hitched slightly. 

“You make me want to be better. Not just for the press. For you. Because when you’re around, I don’t feel like some machine for the media to chew up and spit out. I feel like maybe I’m someone worth showing up for.” He confessed, arms encaging you against the desk as his head leaned down slightly. 

Then quieter, “I know I’ve been difficult. I don’t say enough, but I’m saying it now. I care, I care about you. I want you here. Not because you fix things, but because I love having you around.” He reiterated, you felt as though you hadn’t spoken in ages, none of the right words coming to mind.

Your throat tightened. 

And suddenly, the frustration, the exhaustion, the weeks worth of wondering if he even noticed you slipping away, all cracked away and spilled into something else. 

A knock on the door interrupted your moment as you broke away. He took a step back, head whipping towards the door as your breath caught up to you. 

Work awaited you. 

✧༺♥༻∞

Days had passed, the paddock was winding down for the night.

You had migrated from your desk to one of the couches in the corner of the hospitality unit, half-heartedly editing clips from Oscar’s earlier media rounds to hopefully post the following morning. Your headphones sat around your neck, untouched. The screen glowed, but your eyes glazed over somewhere between the third and fourth timestamp. 

You hadn’t talked about the confession since it happened, but your mind kept drifting back to him. The look on his face and the way his voice sounded. 

You’d both gone back to work like professionals. He gave more thoughtful answers during interviews. You polished his media presence like always, job slightly easier nowadays. But under every interaction with him sat this new charged silence, one that said something happened and neither of you had figured out what it meant yet. 

Then came a quiet knock from the doorframe. 

Oscar.

He wasn’t in race gear anymore, not even team gear, just a hoodie, slightly damp at the sleeves, his hair tousled from his post-session shower. He looked…normal, cozy if you would. Not a headline, or a race statistic, or a social media puzzle for people to pick apart.

Just him. 

“You busy?” He asked, walking closer anyway.

“A little,” you blinked, watching him intently. 

He stepped closer, sitting on the couch across from you, silent for a moment, before wordlessly placing a bag on the table between you, sliding it towards you.

Your brows furrowed curiously, “What is this?”

“Some takeout, I figured you hadn’t eaten in a while since most places on the track are closed by now. It’s the fried rice you like and some of those weird seaweed chips you eat when you’re stressed.” He explained, cheeks flushing slightly pink.

You paused, still in awe of the fact that he noticed. “You remembered.” you spoke, leaning forward to untie the bag and pulling out the bag of chips, a soft smile crossing your face.

He didn’t look at you, eyes wandering the room. “It wasn’t hard.” 

Your chest tightened. 

You pushed your laptop aside, slowly looking at him. There was something in the way his shoulders tensed, the slight crease in his brow. As though he was trying to say something without saying it too fast, or too wrong. 

“Oscar-”

“I keep thinking about what you said. About how you care and how I didn’t give you anything back.” He swallowed thickly. Your breath caught but you stayed quiet. 

He looked up at you then, and for once he didn’t look guarded or sarcastic. He looked nervous. 

“I kept thinking if I acted like I didn’t need anyone, I couldn’t lose anything. But I think maybe I lost a little bit of you already, and fuck, I don’t want to keep doing that.” 

You felt your eyes sting unexpectedly as you blinked quickly. 

“I don’t expect you to fix me up or stay just because I suddenly decided to show up. But I meant it all. I care. About all of it, about you. I was worried if I said the wrong thing, I’d ruin the only good thing I actually gave a shit about.” 

“I’ve been trying to show it,” he went on, voice tighter now. “In the ways I can, but I don’t know if it’s enough. And it’s driving me fucking insane wondering if I’ve missed my chance” 

Your heart beat a little too loudly in your chest.

He ran a stressed hand through his hair, “I keep thinking about how close I could’ve been to losing you. It’s not just about work, it never has been.” His eyes met yours, raw and serious. “It’s you. I don’t want to go through another race weekend without knowing if you’re mine. If this thing between us is real or if I’ve just been imagining it.”

The room went still.

You stood slowly, every nerve in your body on fire, the air between you wound so tight it could snap. 

“You didn’t miss your chance,” you said, your voice barely a breath. You walked towards him, now standing next to him sat on the couch, within arm’s reach.

A pause, his jaw clenching as though something had finally broken. 

He reached for you, pulling you closer with a hand on your waist as he stood up. Oscar towered over you now, arms snaking around you comfortably as your hands came up to rest on his chest.

He leaned down, breath fanning your face as his nose nudged yours. Then, he kissed you. Lips landing on yours like they had waited months. 

Tension bled out of both of you like a flood. His mouth was warm and searching, far too much restraint pent up as his teeth gnashed teasingly against your bottom lip. You stood slightly on your tiptoes to reach him better, a hand sliding up from his chest into his hair, tugging lightly as he groaned. 

It was far from perfect, you stumbled slightly unbalanced as his hands shook against your hip, but it was real. Honest and a little desperate. You slid your tongue against Oscar’s lip, his own poking out to meet yours. He licked into your mouth, hand tightening against your hip as you whined. 

You pulled back slightly, nose still pressed against his breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since my second week on the job,” You admitted, lips curling into a smile. 

He huffed a soft laugh. “Took me that long to stop pretending I didn’t”

You smiled, brushing your fingers along the curve of his neck, lightly scratching the hair at the nape of his neck as he shivered. “So what now?”

“Now I stop pretending, full stop.” He spoke, no hesitation. “And I get to flirt with my media manager.” He joked, a small smirk settling on his face. 

You giggled softly, feeling the weight of that promise, simple and sincere, You leaned into him, body warming at his words. 

“Let me take you home,” He spoke softly, mouth near your ear as he whispered as if trying to keep it a secret between you two. 

You shuddered at his words, biting your lip before facing him again. You nodded slowly at him, eyes lighting with excitement. He smiled at you sweetly, placing another small kiss on your lips before letting you go to pack up. 

Everything seemed to be exactly where it was meant to be, and you felt your heart settle happily at how the night turned out.

✧༺♥༻∞

[starlitkitten]

Hi hi!!

If your requests are open could you maybe do a Haikyuu boys most to least with a Breeding Kink -> seeing the reader covered in their cum 🤭 ty ty!

Hell yess we love a good breeding kink. I tried my best pookie, i hope this is what you wanted <3

(Strictly AGED UP characters. MDNI and its only my opinion!!!)

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink, pet names, mention of pregnancy and babies, mention of jerking off, etc. All of these acts are of course consented.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Most

1. Iwaizumi - i think he is a family man. He would 100% want kids, and the thought of you bearing his children??? Gets him going. He holds you tightly, hands everywhere; your hips, your thighs, holding your own hands as his hips relentlessly roll into yours, thrusting deep into you, grunting and kissing your neck.

"I'm so close darling. Gotta pump you full with me, until you're dripping with me. Wanna make you bearing my children." He groans and grunts as he thrusts his dick deep into you for the fourth round that night, filling you again and again until you're really dripping. Absolutely feral.

"Be good and take it all hm, sweets? Do you feel it? Yeeah? Good. Another please baby." And he already pushes into you again, forehead against your chest. (He doesn't care if you're on the pill, a man can dream)

2. Akaashi - he may he polite in public, but in private? That man is a freak. He is desperate, pussy drunk on how good you feel as he pushes your legs up, dirty-talking into your ear.

"You want another sweetheart? Shhh. I'll give it to you. Maybe even more. You'd look so gorgeous, swollen with my baby." He actually whimpers when he comes inside you again, and again and again.

"One more." He grunts as he rolls his hips deep inside you, hitting all the delicious spots. After he finishes, he keeps gently rubbing your dripping pussy and pushing back his cum into your needy hole.

3. Hinata - before you, he didn't really have any breeding kink. One time while you were ovulating, it actually slipped how you want him to fill you up, and it's like a new door opened in his brain. Since then, he became a demon. Every time he makes love to you, he goes deep, holding your thighs or ass as he thrusts all the way in, or when he really is in the mood, his hips move quick and feral, needy.

"Yesss gotta fill you up ughhh baby. You're clenching around me so hard. You like it?" He let's out the most delicious grunts and whimpers. Sometimes he likes to land a slap on your ass or a gentle tug on your hair. Nothing mean tho. He's just too needy for you.

4. Daichi - responsible king™️ he is a naturally caring person, all domestic and nurturing. He needs to take care of. Aside of being always so gentle with you, he always dreamed of a family. So maybe this kink is sided with his "domestic dream" of having a family.

"Oh, my love. So good yeah?" One kiss on your shoulder. "Im gonna make you pregnant. Take care of you and the baby. Fuck. Im so close again love. Can I come inside you again? Make you a mommy?"

So polite about his nasty breeding kink. Doesn't matter how much he ruined you, he always cleans you up.

Honorable Mention:

Kenma - I think he pretty much loves to come deep inside you. Making you ride him and then only putting effort into pushing and holding you down on his dick when he comes, whining softly.

"So pretty." He looks up with hooded eyes. "Filled with me so much. Look at that...."

🔁

4. Kuroo - I mean, he is experimental and loves fun sex. The idea and the fantasy might entertain him enough. It's like a role play for him. He knows you're on the pill etc, but he still likes to pretend. Not necessarily a core kink for him.

"You will look so good with my cum dripping out of you, kitten. So hot and sexy. Gotta push it back too." With a nasty smirk while he has you face down ass up, holding your hips, filling you up again and again.

3. Bokuto - he'd be only into it if you're into it. He needs lots of praising and emotional bonding before gets into the idea of it. He would need praises like "you'd be such a good dad" "you're so strong and capable" "I want you to fill me up" It would really get him going. Besides, emotional closeness and intimacy would help him bring out the more primal or deeper kinks like breeding kink. And he also thrives on being needed, and it all implicates creating a family or being relied on. Why he is closer to the least? I think his mood swings would make him anxious or overwhelmed from the seriousness of it.

"You would be such a good dad." It was only one time, slipping through your lips followed by a "I want you to come inside me." And hes like....

"OH? That's kind of hot..!" And gives it his all.

2. Tsukishima - it's not that he doesn't like to come inside you. Its rather that he likes you covered in his cum. Likes coming on your pretty tits, your belly, your perfect body. Sorry not sorry but he's even into the idea of jerking off to your body, covering you all. And maybe he also is sweet and wants to keep you safe and your eggs unfertilised. Yet. But once you and him decide that it's time for babies, he not only will come on your body but inside too.

"You look so perfect like this, covered with me." With a menacing smirk, parting your legs more and pulling out with a squelching sound, stroking himself once and twice, covering your lower belly in him.

1. Sakusa - it may be obvious, but Sakusa is all about control and hygiene, and breeding kink is way too messy, all about bodily fluids, and would make him too vulnerable. Sakusa mostly avoids physical contact and anything that doesn't seem hygienic enough. Like breeding kink.

"You want me to what...? Without a condom? Do you have test results?" He may sound rude and mean, but he doesn't want to be exposed to anything. He loves you dearly, but breeding kink is just not for him. But maybe he will make an exception once in the future.

Least

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Thats it :) i hope y'all liked it hehe

[heartyluv]

💋⌖༺𓆩🍷𓆪༻

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,839

Summary: Sylus hates being away from his wife, always has.

Reader/Husband!Sylus w/ Breeding Kink

You're so close and you can't wait to be where you belong. It's always hard to leave your husband and your home behind for any reason, but you haven't seen your best friend in so long that the trip to see her was needed. After two weeks in your hometown, you were now in the car Sylus sent for you, getting closer to being in his arms again.

Your phone rings in your purse and you fish inside the bag to answer it. The photo of Luke and Kieran posing with the peace sign is the first thing you see, making you smile.

You press the phone to your ear after accepting the call. "Hey, guys. Everything okay?"

"No, everything is not," Kieran mumbles. "This is the longest two weeks I've ever experienced. Boss Man has been so moody."

"Please tell us you're almost here," Luke says plainly.

"You're not used to Sylus' moods by now?" you joke.

"Of course we are. But we will never get used to how flip-floppy he can be about you. It's gross, yet oddly adorable... Please don't tell him I said that," Kieran pleads.

"What's he doing?" you ask curiously.

"That's the thing. He's doing nothing," Luke answers.

"Since you've been gone, he's been to himself. I know what you're thinking. 'Isn't that typical of the Boss?' Well yes, you are 100% correct. At least typical behavior with us. Boss cannot be without you for more than a second if he can help it. Anyways," Kieran sighs. "He hasn't made a sarcastic comment, joke, or insult during your entire absence. He's been the most... "regular" since you told him you were coming home today and even more so to see you're two minutes away," Kieran adds.

"How do you—?"

"Oh, you must know that he has a tracker on you."

Of course Sylus tracks you. It's not necessarily surprising, just newfound information.

"Tell him I'm—"

"Open the door, open the door! She's here!" Kieran screeches.

Your phone beeps, indicating the call has been disconnected. Yours and Sylus' home come into view, and you feel so giddy inside. The driver rounds the small bend of the driveway, putting the car in park, and steps out of the vehicle to help with your bags. Before you can even get your fingers to the handle, your door opens.

You turn your head to the right to see you husband, the smallest but ever so meaningful smile on his face. He for sure used his Evol to get here as quick as he did because he was not present when the car pulled up. His hand is out, reaching for you. You slide yours into his and he's pulling you as politely as he can muster to bring you closer to him.

He's in his long sleeve brown top that you bought him a few months ago and his tailored black slacks, making him represent the perfect combination of comfy and classy like he always does.

He doesn't say a word, not at first. Immediately when he has you close enough, his hand cups the side of your head and he dips his to kiss your lips. The kiss is hungry and desperate. He doesn't give a damn who's around and who's watching him suck your tongue into his mouth.

This is his house, his choice, and most of all, his fucking woman.

He growls and you feel the rumble in his chest vibrate against your own with how pressed together you are.

"Sylus—" You try and speak, but he's engulfing your mouth with even more vigor as if your voice has only spurred him on more.

He realizes he needs to let you breathe, knows that he's likely making your whole body flush with embarrassment, but he can't seem to care. It's only when you bite down on his lip a little too hard, forcing him to pull back, does he finally look into your eyes.

You can barely breathe and just like he thought, your cheeks are tinged red and you're breathing deeply. You lick your lips, your smile uncontainable when his piercing red eyes bore into your large ones.

"My apologies, kitten," he finally speaks. "Can you blame your husband for being so eager?" His thumb trails your lips, mixing his saliva and yours.

"I missed you too, handsome," you respond once your breath finally stabilizes. The driver announces that he'll be on his way, and you close your eyes as if it'll make you disappear, hoping that he didn't pay attention to the way Sylus kissed you.

Who are you kidding? Even if the poor old man didn't look, he definitely heard it and is most definitely judging a little bit.

Sylus makes the hesitant decision to separate from you for a moment to tip the driver before he departs. He thanks the both of you, tipping his hat, and you two watch the red headlights depart away from your home after he got inside the car.

Sylus gets close to you again, seemingly ready to take you right here on the driveway pavement, but Luke and Keiran come running out the house, exclaiming with happiness that you're back.

"Thank god you're here. Please, fix him," Kieran exclaims.

Sylus sighs, shaking his head at his—what he deems—ridiculous behavior, but if you were in their shoes, you're sure you would've been feeling the same way.

"Bring her bags inside. Take a car and one of my cards for the next few days. Don't come back until I instruct you to," Sylus commands and all of you damn near snap your necks to look at him.

The twins chuckle, nudging at each other before throwing your husband a loud "yes sir". They both make quick moves to grab your things and Sylus holds your hand as he guides you into your shared lavish home. Kieran is the first back out the door after showing Sylus what card he took, and Luke shuts the door behind himself after following his brother's lead.

"Why are they leaving?" you ask, but you know the answer. How could you not?

Sylus tilts his head in amusement, licking his lips. "Are you hungry?"

"Not particularly..." you breathe.

"Hm," he hums. The radiant glow of the descending sun is the only light you have to see his face, to see the mischief he has written all over it. "But I am, sweetie. A treat such as yourself could satiate a hungry man like me."

He kisses you again, barely giving you the chance to respond. He's quick to kiss your jaw, then your neck. His tongue traces your skin, holding you up so that you don't crumble before him.

"Do you know how insane I've been without you?" He bites the section where your neck and shoulder meet. "The way I ached for you..." He inhales your scent deeply. "It must be what Ares felt when he was separated from Aphrodite."

Your body shudders. He chuckles smugly at that. "Tell your husband how much you missed him, kitten."

Your hand snakes up to trail into his white-gray hair. He sucks on the places he knows makes your panties flood, decorating your neck with love bites. "I missed you so much," you tell him truthfully through your lust. "Thought about you every day..."

"You did, did you?" he teases, peeling your cardigan down your shoulders. "I don't know, I'm not convinced. Perhaps actions truly do speak louder than words. Shall we put it to the test?"

As if you weigh nothing, he picks you up and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. You've seen this man lift couches over his shoulder as if he was moving a single bag of groceries. It's insane— and it makes you want to let him do every filthy thing possible to you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Sylus brought the both of you to the upstairs bathroom and you stand behind him like a lost puppy as he cuts the water on, steam pooling out of the grand shower. He removes his clothes first and you watch as every single article of clothing is thrown to the side. You can't help but to stare at his cock, hard and standing tall.

He then approaches you, gently peeling off your own clothing. After you're naked before him, he takes you inside to stand beneath the pouring stream of water. "Tell me about your trip."

Behind you, you hear movements as your voice shakily attempts to tell him what you and your friend did while you were away. He hums every so often in response, to let you know that he really is listening. Then his large hands come into view in front of you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, not sure of what he's getting ready to do. Your words are cut off when his hands grab handfuls of your breasts, making you arch your back, and your ass press against his aching cock.

He groans as the soap begins to lather, as he runs his hands all over you. Your soaped breasts are his erotic sight. His wedding ring trails over your nipple as he massages you, causing you to call out his name.

"Don't stop, kitten," he whispers lowly. "Keep going."

"Sylus, please..." you beg. You know exactly what you want from him, but to put it into words feels impossible.

"Please, what? Speak to me. Tell me what you want." He licks your ear.

"Please... I need you."

He tsks, bringing his head down to kiss your shoulder. "I'm a man who requires details before I act. Tell me more."

"I need you to fuck me... I need you inside of me," you beg sheepishly.

"My good girl," he praises. "But what about me? You left your poor husband all alone. What about what I need?"

"What do you need? I'll do anything.."

"Anything?" he chuckles and you feel him smirk against your neck.

He grabs your wrists, pinning them behind you with his Evol. You're thrown off and the whole shower is long forgotten when mixes of black and red energy constrict your wrists. He kneels in front of you, taking your foot and bracing it on the shower bench.

"Then feed your husband, sweetie." His mouth attacks your hot cunt, your soft curls tickling his nose as he ravages you. His tongue is skilled and determined as he drinks your juices like a man on the verge of dehydration. You shake and writhe, struggling to stand upright. But Sylus has you, he'll never let you fall.

His hands grab at your ass, pulling you closer as he sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth.

"Baby... I can't, holy fuck.." you pant, moaning and whining. Your sounds echo off the tile walls and with no one here, you have zero hesitancy to be loud.

"You can," he encourages through heavy breaths. "You said you'd do anything. So, be good for me and let me taste my sweet wife's cum."

His words are filthy and so fulfilling. You want to touch him, want to press him deeper, but your bound hands prevent you like a punishment. Your orgasm approaches and he can feel you constrict around his tongue, making his efforts double.

You can't even warn him that you're about to come because it hits you before you're even ready. Your thighs shake, your body nearly doubles over, and your pussy sings for him as he swallows all of you down. He kisses your weeping cunt as you start to come down then you jolt when he licks at your sensitive clit one last time.

"Please, Sylus baby. I want to touch you. I need to feel you.." You look down at him and he kisses your thighs, then your stomach, all the way up to your wet breasts.

"Maybe you have a gift, my sweet." He licks his lips, biting them as if he'd needs another fix of the ambrosia between your legs. "Your actions and your words could move mountains."

He kisses you and your hands are still bound. You taste your heady scent on his tongue, but you're so frustrated that it nearly brings you to tears. He senses this, knows this, and the relief that washes over you as your hands are released is inexplicable. You immediately grab at his neck, then his hair. You just want to be close to him.

He lifts you up, pressing your back against the cool tile wall, but your body is so hot that the pinch of cold fades immediately. "Put me in, kitten," he looks into your eyes. "Bring me home."

You nod feverishly, looking down between the two of you. His cock is leaking. If you don't get him inside you now, you're convinced you will actually cry.

You wrap your hand around his thick length, feeling the veins that will be inside you in milliseconds. He helps you, jutting his hips forward and the tip of him opens you up like a flower. You gasp, biting your lip as he gets deeper, as you and him become one.

He starts to rock his hips and his pace is excruciatingly slow. "I want to put my baby inside you," he admits as his hips start to increase in speed, giving you what you need. The declaration makes you clench around him.

"Does my wife like that?" he presses his forehead to yours. "My baby in your stomach, my ring on your finger, my money in your pockets. Everything I am, everything I own, it belongs to you, doesn't it?"

Your emotions are at an all time high. "Yes... I want it. I want to have your baby, Sylus..." You can barely speak right.

"You'd do me the honor, wouldn't you? You'd let me fill you with my cum until it's leaking out of you, then you'd let me fuck it back into all over again until it takes."

His tip kisses your cervix ever so lightly as he slams into you with purpose. The sound of skin slapping together is orgasm inducing and your flesh ripples deliciously in his hands. He uses his Evol for a moment to keep you up and still as one of his hands comes to your stomach, pressing down. "You can feel me, hm? Feel how well we fit? We know how perfect we are together. Let's find out how even better we are when we mix."

You need it. You want it. You crave it. You need to have the family you and him have always talked about. And you need his cum so desperately that you'd get on your knees and beg. But you don't need to beg. Not when he's more than willing to give.

His hands come back to you and his thrusts become stronger, more ruthless, and your body welcomes every brutal motion. "Hold it," he demands as he feels you tighten uncontrollably. And you do. You hold it like your life depends on it.

He caresses your flushed cheek. "My sweet kitten. You listen so well for me, don't you?" You nod quickly, unable to speak to the man who's taking your breath away.

"Listen well for me one more time." His cock pulses and each vein massages the inside of you. "Come for me again. Reward your husband."

You don't need to be asked again as you scream for him, your body relieved to let out what it could no longer hold. Sylus knows how much you need him, need contact, so he brings you close and you grab at him while he groans in your ear, his own release painting your walls and filling you up. You're astounded that he's not falling to the floor because if it were you depending on your legs right now, you'd be a melted mess as much as you are in his arms.

You feel how his cum warms you. With bated breath, you tilt back your head to see your husband not as collected as you initially believed. He's just as much of a mess as you are. His cheeks and ear tips are red and his hard chest is rising and falling in quick succession. Even now, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He brings you both to the bench, sitting on it with him still nestled deeply inside of you.

The water has been running the whole time, likely cold but you and him couldn't care less. You rest your head on his shoulder.

"Staying together like this could increases our chances of pregnancy, no?" he whispers before kissing your head.

You chuckle. "I hope so."

“I really did miss you,” he mumbles into your hair. “Deeply.”

It's quiet for a moment. "I did, too.” You kiss his chest. “And I meant it, Sylus. I really do want that, want this. To start a family with you."

"I meant it too, my love. Every last word."

"Yeah?"

"Of course." He cups your face to bring your pretty eyes to him. "And I don't plan on stopping until it happens."

It already made sense why he had the twins leave, but now? It definitely makes sense. You would not know rest these next few days and you couldn't think of a better way to be welcomed home.

[outsideratheart]

You didn’t fail me (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: My first fic in a while. I hope you all like it. In the name of honesty this has been in my drafts for about a week but I forgot to post it.

Very few times in your life had you found yourself speechless. Never like this and never whilst watching Barcelona play. You had a brutal case of Broncitus that had left you on the sidelines for a few weeks now which was the reason why you wasn’t in the starting line up.

Jana's goal was fair and you would die on the hill protesting that there was no offisde in the play. When the ref made the call the bench was on their feet ready to storm the pitch.

Then Real Madrid scored. They had the lead for the second time in this game and quite frankly you had had enough.

Breathing was painful at times but you were almost back to full health. You were on the bench but the plan was never to have you play, in fact it was advised against, but you found yourself in Pere's face demanding him to put you on.

"Y/N, I cannot allow that" Pere tried to talk you down but it wasn't working.

"No! You cannot allow that shit show to continue. Sub me on. Now"

Pere looked at you and you could tell he was thinking about it. His features softened and his eyebrows furrowed. In that moment you knew he was trying to workout who best to bring off.

"Ale" you answered the question for him "Straight sub, me for her. Let me get control of the midfield. Besides I won't be able to play with her worrying about me. Plus by the looks of it she is seconds away from getting a second yellow"

Both of your attentions went back to the pitch were Alexia and Esme were still argueing with the referee. You were just as mad as they were but they needed to move on. In football you needed to be a goldfish.

"She will worry. We all will" You were one of his players but he also knew you were human who wasn't 100%.

"Let her worry from the bench"

He nodded and those were the last words exhcanged. You went back over to the bench to grab your shin pads and take off your quarter zip. 

Meanwhile Alexia was growing more and more frustrated with the way the game was being played and deep down she knew she wasn't having the best game. When she saw the board go up she saw her number but didn't even pay attention to the number beside it. Quickly she ran over to Patri to give her the armband only for her to refuse it.

"I'm not the captain. Y/N is" Patri said which was common knowledge within the team.

"She isn't playing and now neither am I. Take it so we can get on with the game" Still, Alexia was oblivous.

It is only when Patri turns Alexia's shoulder to the sidelines does she release who is replacing her. The balon d'Or winner was ready to kill her coach for playing you.

You could see the furiousity on your girlfriend's face but now wasn't the time. The clock was running down and there was less than ten minutes left in the game.

"Y/N, you aren-"

"Give me the band Ale" 

You were mad and Alexia knew you had every right to be. Your mood didn't bother her but your condition plus the weather was a reason for concern. 

She watched as you ran onto the pitch quickly. Misa was trying to run down the clock as she went down but it works in your favor. You gather the team and rip into them. There was no way for Alexia to know what you said but if the team’s reaction was anything to go by it just might have been your most motivating speech yet.

The clock was ticking and it was something you were fell aware of. You knew going onto the pitch that you wouldn't be playing your best so you used your time and energy wisely. You only made a run when you knew it could pay off and a couple of minutes in you saw the first opening. Caro and Aitana were linked up on the right and you shouted for Ewa to keep near you and in line with you. There was no way in hell that you would going to even come close to being offisde given the latest decision made by officals.

"CARO!!" you scream for the ball as you run with her further and further into the final third. She plays a ball perfectly into the box and the newly wet grass gave you the extra inches you needed to get your foot on the ball and into the back of the net.

"Get the ball" Salma does as you say and the team runs back to their half. The game was tied.

Alexia couldn't beleive what she was watching. Your presence has turned the game on it's head. You had done was she failed to do in 80 minutes. 

Regular time had come and gone. There were mere minutes left in the game. Barca were hunting but Real Madrid were fighting. Both teams had chances but neither could score. You were out of your feet, your lungs on fire but the desire to win pushed you. You focused on the quality of your passes instead of making the runs.

With seconds left you send a ball into the box from near the half way line. It was a last ditch effort but it's all you had in you. The ball was flying through the air almost as if in slow motion. You knew who the target was and she was in the perfect position. Ingrid got her head to the ball with the perfect connection only for it to hit the crossbar and go over for a goal kick.

The whistle was blown and the game ended 2-2. The team might not have lost but a draw was like a win to your opponents and that pissed you off.

The energy at Montuic was stale with most of the fans already having left. That could have been due to the weather but it could also have to do with the team's performance.

Pere gave a speech during the huddle yet no one was listening. They all knew today wasn't good enough but still they took the time to do a lap of the pitch. Normally this is to thank the fans and today's was for that and an apology. Alexia walked next to you but she wouldn't look you in the eye. She did that when she was mad or upset, right now it was a mixture of the two. No words were exchanged as you wrapped your arm around her shoulders. 

"You're not well" your girlfriend's words were barely above a whisper.

"I was needed on that pitch"

Again, silence fell on you two until she saw Pere near the tunnel. 

"He shouldn't have played you" and with that she stormed into the locker room knowing full well that you didn't have the energy to chase after her.

The locker room was louder after you lost the champions league than it was now. Nobody was rushing to get changed. They sat in their kit and thought about how things went so badly.

"That shouldnt have happened" Pere began to spoke but Alexia cut him off. You knew this was coming and you also knew it would end very very badly.

"No!" the Catalonian rose to her feet "I don't care what the score was, you should never have put Y?N on. She has been ill for weeks. You were with us at the medical test, the doctor said she wasn't fit"

"Alexia, he said he advised against it"

"Alexia is right" Mapi was also on her feet walking towards Pere "He put his player at risk"

Pere looked at you. He told you this would happen and you knew it would be up to you to handle them, to handle the team.

"Both of you sit down" you didn't ask but they didn't do it "Sit down now" upon seeing the stern look on your face they did as they were told.

You stood up and looked at each player in the locker room before turning your attention to the two woman who were adament on defending you.

"Now I am going to be very very honest with you, with you all. That our there was abmismal. We pride ourselves on our ability to play at a world class level yet that our was fucking amateur hour"

"But the goal was-"

"A goal. Nobody in this world will argue with you on that one but we shouldn't have been in that position in the first place. We went down to Real Madrid not once but twice. That is not good enough. That is not us. That is not Barcelona" You take a second to catch your breathe "As for the decision to sub me on, that wasn't his, it was mine. Never have I seen us have to adapt to the way they play and I wasn't going to sit on the bench and watch it happen for a second longer. Pere didn't want me to come on but deep down he knew I had what it took to regain control of the game" 

Alexia listened as you broke down the game. Play by play she realised as you pointed out mistake and mistake. To other teams it wouldn't come off as bad but you were right when you said the performance wasn't Barcelona level of football. 

"I should have been on that pitch" Alexia still wasn't ok with the change.

"No you shouldn't" It was a harsh truth but it had to be said "You couldn't find a way through them and you were seconds away from getting a second yellow. You let them get under your skin and the moment that happened you were no longer of use to the team. I needed to be on the pitch without worrying about you worrying about me"

"So I got benched because I'm your girlfriend. That hasn't stopped us before" Alexia sunk into her locker. Even after your explanation, she din't agree with it.

"You got benched because things wasn't clicking with you on the pitch" 

It was like a kick in a gut.

“A decision needed to be made and given how the game turned around it was the right one” 

You looked at Alexia and disregarded everyone else in the room. In your mind it was just the two of you.

“I know” Alexia was disappointed in herself.

The rest of the locker room began changing whilst still thinking about what you said. Everyone was showered and changed within half an hour. By the time you game out of the shower Alexia was gone. You assumed she would take a minute then shower herself but clearly she had other plans and whatever they were you would respect them. You shoot her a quick message telling her you’ll be at home waiting for her when she’s ready. This happened quite a few times and you knew she would go to her mother’s. This was confirmed an hour later when you got a text from Eli saying Alexia was with her and Alba. 

It didn’t hurt you that she went to them. Alexia was very close to her family and she was the one that helped her process her feelings or at least do so enough so that when she came to you she had some understanding of what was going on in her head.

You were sprawled out on the sofa under a blanket watching the latest series on Netflix when you heard the door open. 

“Y/N” Alexia called out for you. In her mind she wasn’t sure if you would be at home and if you wanted to see her. 

“In the living room” 

She stood in front of you like a school kid who knew they had been naughty. Alexia carried the weight of the team on her shoulders since you were off and it had been weighing her down at times. She never let anyone see this but with you it was obvious. You knew your girlfriend better than she knew herself.

“Come here” you opened your arms and Alexia buried herself under the blanket and into the crook of your neck. A couple of seconds pass and as they do her breathing evens out. The pressure did consume her at times and when that happened she just needed some time.

“I’m sorry I played so badly that you had to go against what the doctor said” This is what bothered Alexia the most. Sure losing against Real was infuriating but the fact that you, who wasn’t full fit, felt the need to play affected her more.

“Baby, that’s not it at all” your fingers trace lines up and down her spine “Madrid were targeting you and it was working. They aren’t a team that’s worth you getting a red card. You’re better than them, Ale”

“Why couldn’t I be on the pitch with you?” 

“Because as hard as you tried you wouldn’t be able to look at me as your team mate. You would look at me and see the girlfriend who you have been looking after for over a month”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. I always look at you and see my girlfriend because that’s what you are. Instead I had to watch from the bench as you ran yourself into the ground and you didn’t even do that much. You put the team before your own health and I don’t like that”

“Alexia” you wait until she looks at you “I’m ok. My chest is a little sore and the cough is still there but I’m ok. I’m no worse than when I stepped foot on that pitch”

It took you a couple of seconds but you saw it. There was something else going on in her head, something she wasn’t telling you.

“What is it? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” You waited and hoped alexia would stay something only she didn’t “Please tell me” you said softly.

“I failed you today. This morning when we left the house I told you we would win and I told you I would score”

She did tell you these things as you sat at the kitchen table, Alexia finishing her breakfast whilst you sipped on your coffee.

“Can I ask you a question?” Your girlfriend nods slightly “Did you give it your all on that pitch?”

Alexia thinks about it for a second. Every play she made on the pitch ran through her head like a homemade movie. Every pass of the ball, touch at her feet and shot at goal or more so lack of shots on goal.

"It wasn't my best performance" She was defeated, not just in the game today but also in mentality.

"It wasn't the team's best performance Alexia. You might be the captain but you weren't the only player on that pitch" You were aware how hypocritical you sounded but in this very moment you didn't care.

The woman laying in your arms was quiet for a couple of moments. She knew you were right but she was never going to admit that. Her stubborness wouldn't let her. 

What you said next got her attention straight away.

"Besides that offside call was bullshit" you said with a smirk on your face.

"Por Dios! How was that offside? No one was anywhere close to being offside and definetley not Jana. She was miles off"

Alexia jumped to her feet and played the moment out right there and then in your living room. One minute she was her, the next Caro, Ewa and then Jana when she acts out the shot. You loved it when she talked football to you and her passion for the sport you both loved only made you love her more.

"See! Am I offside at any point?" She wasn't looking for an answer so her cutting you off before you can reply isn't a surprise "No, never, not a chance"

"No amor, none of you were" 

"We'll be better next week. We'll be back to our Barcelona, I promise you" Alexia got serious all of a sudden and you knew why. She never liked to lose and whilst you weren't out for long, every game you spend in the stands she told you that she played for you. In her eyes she failed to make you proud that and that meant she failed you. What Alexia didn't understand is that even in the worse losses she could never fail you.

[aureatelys]

can't lose when i'm with you

pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner/fem!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 7k a/n: happy valentines day! this idea came to me as a joke but then i couldnt stop thinking about it. also i know nothing about golf or country clubs so sorry in advance if i got anything wrong.

summary: You work as a beverage cart girl at your local country club and your dad ropes you in to make him look good during a business meeting with his new best friend.

content warnings: 18+ MDNI PLEASE, dbf!hotch so age gap, kinda flirty!reader, porn with no plot, dry humping on a golf cart yessir, semi public sex, m masturbation, some dirty talk, men (not hotch) being gross and touchy

read below or here on ao3 here <3

You’ve been working as a beverage cart girl at your dad’s country club for the past several months to save money for school. At first, the bluntness of some of these older men flirting with you caught you off guard, but after you got your first $100 tip just from serving a group of three men a couple of beers and flashed them a smile, you were hooked. Flirting was part of the job, which became easier and easier for you the more shifts you took.

After all, it was easy money—refilling the drinks in the coolers, driving around a well-kept golf course while underneath the shade of the cart, and handing out drinks with a little smile and a hair flip. Sometimes, you even sat nearby and cheered Ted on as he hobbled over to take his shot.

You even got to add some personal touches to your beloved cart—a pink fuzzy steering wheel cover, a blush pink sheet covering the leather seats so your thighs would stop sticking to them, a pillow in the shape of a heart for your back, and a cute miniature disco ball hanging from the roof because old people love to pretend like they can party again.

And the men weren’t too bad. You’ve had a few run ins with some on the handsier side, or ones that straight up asked to have sex with you, but luckily your manager dealt a swift and heavy hand and you never saw them again. Otherwise, the customers were mostly decent, as long as you were okay with some heavy flirting and generous eye-fucking.

It’s a typical busy Saturday when you meet Aaron.

You knew your dad was having some sort of “business meeting” with the highly decorated FBI agent he’s been recently obsessed and hanging out with, and he knew that you were mentioned the most in the country club’s Google reviews. He wanted you to put him in a good mood, which was basically in your job description. You didn’t mind since your father promised a hefty tip for you at the end.

You spot them a few yards away—your father’s lucky red hat, muted in color due to wear and tear, and another man nearly a foot taller standing near him. You call out for them and speed your way there in your rickety little cart when your dad waves to you.

When you pull up next to them, it looks like they’ve just finished Hole 2, which means this would be absolute prime time for you if they were typical customers.

“Hey boys,” you call out. You’re about to ask them if they’re thirsty when you get a good look at your dad’s friend.

He’s tall, almost outrageously so with how far you have to crane your neck to look at him. He’s also ridiculously handsome; strong brows, intense eyes, and floppy hair that looked so soft you craved running your hands through them. Wide shoulders, thick arms, and a little soft around the middle in a way that made something flutter in your stomach.

He was definitely not your typical customer.

“Hey sweetie!” Your dad comes to give you a kiss on the top of your head. “I didn’t know you were working today.”

He’s such a good actor, you think as you beam up at him. “And I didn’t know you were going golfing today. You guys thirsty?”

“Absolutely! I’ll take a beer, how about you, Aaron?”

“A water is fine.” Christ, even his voice is hot—low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine despite the summer heat.

You make your way to the cooler in the back, squinting as soon as you’re out from the shade and into the blazing sun. “A beer and a water for my two most handsome guys coming right up!”

As always, your dad laughs, but when you peek a glance out of the corner of your eye from where you’re bent over, half of your body basically in the cooler as you fish out a water bottle, Aaron was wearing an obviously practiced neutral expression.

You finally find the bottle, your hand nearly going numb from how much ice you had to dig through, and hand it to Aaron with a grin. “Here you go.”

He meets your gaze and you’re drawn to the pretty brown sugar shade of his eyes. “Thank you.” He’s polite, not even a smile gracing his lips before he’s twisting the cap off and tipping his head back to take a long swig.

You swear your throat goes dry at the tantalizingly long line of his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing. You’re able to get a closer look at him this way— the sharp cut of his jaw, the way the tight red polo was stretching over his broad shoulders, and the way his hands were so large it made the water bottle look almost comically small.

Your father’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “Aaron, this is my daughter. Sweetie, this is Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief of the BAU I told you about?”

Boy, have you heard about him—your dad hasn’t shut up about him over the past month, talking about how he’s such a great guy, how he’s been at the Bureau for over a decade, and how he’s been bragging about his golfing skills and that the two of them just had to play some time.

You don’t exactly remember what today’s meeting was about, something about implementing a new training program to his agents? Either way, he had hoped you would use your spectacular customer service to help his odds, but you’re sure he wasn’t hoping for you to have the thoughts you were currently having that involved his hands on your hips and your mouth pressed against his throat.

A ringtone blares, nearly making you jump, and you watch as your father steps away to take a call.

You put on your best customer service smile and put your hand out, pink nails glinting underneath the sun. “Nice to meet you, Aaron. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Something quirks at the corner of Aaron’s mouth as he puts his hand in yours. You try not to pay attention to how his hand nearly dwarfs yours or how you could feel the rough calluses on his fingers. “You as well.”

“Unit chief, huh?” you ask, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. “I bet that’s a really stressful job. You should come visit me more. To de-stress.”

And it’s like Aaron’s face transforms into something softer, younger. You watch in delight as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, mouth twisting in an effort to hide an amused smile. “Should I now?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say, leaning your hip against your cart. You’re suddenly glad you wore your shortest tennis skirt and sleeveless top that emphasized your cleavage quite well today. “I’m here almost every day and we close at 6.”

His body turns towards you, stepping in closer. You think you catch the faintest whiff of his woodsy cologne, breaking through the freshly cut grass smell. “Is that why your dad was so adamant about going golfing today? So his daughter could flirt his way into me approving his training curriculum?”

An incredulous laugh nearly bubbles out of you at his instant ability to read through you despite only knowing each other less than 5 minutes. You assume he’s the unit chief for a reason.

“Is it working?”

He says nothing for a moment, just looking you up and down in a way that made you want to shift, though not uncomfortably. He studies you and your pristine white sneakers, the hem of your tennis skirt brushing against the warm expanse of your thighs, and your hair in a high ponytail. He glances at the cannisters of edible glitter and mini umbrellas on your bev cart. You see his eyes dance with amusement when he notices the mini disco ball swinging from your roof.

When he looks back at you, eyebrows relaxed, the professional flat line of his mouth was gone and instead replaced with something more private. “Yes.”

Excitement settles in your chest, light and golden. You feel your face flush out of your own accord and hope you can blame the summer sun beating down on you and not your father’s coworker, no more than 20 years older than you, flirting with you.

Your father suddenly appears right around Aaron’s shoulder, always with impeccable timing. He looks just as flushed as you feel, sweat building at his hairline while Aaron looks impossibly dry despite the humidity. “Ready to move onto the next hole, Hotch?”

And just like that, Aaron’s face smoothly changes to polite professionalism and not like you were seconds away from throwing your arms around his neck. He nods and gives you a courteous smile, something playful tugging at his lips. “It was nice to meet you.”

When your father fishes through his wallet to pay for the drinks, and hopefully your tip as well, Aaron lays a hand over his before he’s pulling out his own from his back pocket. “I got it,” he says, before handing you two crisp $100 bills.

“Oh,” you say before you could help yourself. And because it’s Aaron, whom you’ve never met before and not like your other customers, you didn’t feel quite comfortable in taking his money. Yet. “This more than pays for the drinks…”

He shakes his head and pushes the money towards you. “I know.”

You take his money, solely because you don’t want to cause a scene when your father was already stuttering over himself in an attempt to still cover the bill himself. You notice how thick his fingers are over the folded bills and ignore the warmth tingling up your spine when your fingers brush against his.

“Thank you, Aaron.” You don’t miss the way his eyes barely narrow at the sound of his name from your lips or the imperceptible clench of his hand at his side.

You try to hide the smirk threatening to show on your face when you get back into your cart, your silly keychains hanging from the ignition clinking with the action. You put your cart in drive and look over your shoulder at Aaron, your father’s attention already enraptured by the phone in his hand.

“See you around, handsome.”

You think you see a faint hint of pink at the tips of Aaron’s ears before you drive away.

-

You don’t see Aaron for several weeks.

You try not to let it bother you, starting to come to terms with the possibility that he just wasn’t interested in you or that you were too young and juvenile for him. So what if you’ve been picking up more shifts lately, just in case he decided to show up? Or spending your entire paycheck on cute outfits that hug you in all the right places? That isn’t anyone else’s business except yours.

So it’s totally because you’ve been bored all day when you let out a squeak of excitement at the text you get from your dad letting you know that him and Aaron were on their way to the country club.

It’s a slow Thursday afternoon, which means the men that do show up to play, clearly avoiding their wives, believe they can keep you around at their beck and call. A group of 3 older gentlemen who were somewhat regulars had asked you to drive them around in your golf cart despite regulations not allowing customers to catch a ride, but they’ve already racked up hundreds of dollars in drinks, so you’re sure your boss wouldn’t mind.

They’re also a little touchy, wanting to teach you how to play so they have an excuse to put their hands on your hips and not so subtly cop a feel, but their usual tips at the end of the day easily pays for half of your rent. So, you play along by flipping your hair over your shoulder a bit, maybe even acting a little ditsy when they talk about golf as if your dad hadn’t thrown you in lessons as soon as you were able to hold a club.

That’s why you’ve been sitting behind your wheel entertaining grandpa for the past 30 minutes, his friends actually focused on the game, as he rattles on about his ex-wife, how he’s currently looking for a younger girl to take out, and the best way to move your hips when you shoot.

“If you stand up, I can show you how,” he says hoarsely, standing so closely you can smell not only the acrid scent of beer that he’s been sipping on but also the general musty smell of old people you’ve unfortunately become familiar with.

You fake a laugh, even playing it up by leaning forward and patting his wrinkled hand from where it’s inching closer and closer to you on the headrest. “Oh, Jerry, I don’t think we have time for that. I have to make my rounds.”

When you spot Aaron and your father driving over the hill, the rattle of the shitty golf carts a familiar tune, you immediately lock gazes with him. It’s like watching a movie in slow motion the way you’re able to discern when Aaron notices the older man’s close proximity and your clear uncomfortable posture— his eyebrows drawing up in barely concealed shock before knitting in concern, eyes narrowing.

You let out a breathless laugh at the silent rage, plain as day, before scooting out through the other side of the cart and away from Jerry and his beady eyes.

“Where you going, hot stuff?” Ew.

You put on your sweet customer service smile, often used to placate the rowdier men, before you brush away imaginary dust and start throwing away the trash left on your cart. “Jerry! I still have to do my job!”

You’re relieved when Jerry finally takes the hint and shuffles away towards his golf bag that he left near the teeing area just as Aaron and your father pull up next to you with a screech, giving you a slight breeze. When Aaron steps out of the cart, the most mundane action in the world, he looks unfairly attractive. You stare at the slight flex of his biceps when he holds onto the roof of the cart before tearing yourself away and turning towards your dad.

“How are my two favorite guys?” you tease, giving your dad a hug when he opens his arms out.

“I don’t know about Hotch but I’m ready to kick his ass,” your dad laughs, patting Aaron’s back like they’re suddenly best friends. Which is almost true, seeing as how your dad has somehow become even more obsessed with him, having not stopped talking about losing to him several weeks ago and has evidently somehow roped him into another day on the course.

“Well, I don’t think I should choose sides,” you giggle and glance at Aaron. He’s squinting at you, as if you’re speaking a completely different language, his expression still strained and posture tense.  

You smile at him and give him a cheery little wave. “Hi Aaron.”

“Hi,” he says slowly, shoulders slowly relaxing, and hearing his voice makes you breathless all over again. “Are you okay?”

And it’s sweet, the obvious way Aaron is checking in on you as if you don’t do this every day. Truthfully, you’re used to it and it’s not like the men take it too far. You’re more focused on the fact that this is your second time meeting Aaron and he’s already concerned about your wellbeing and personal space like the true gentleman he is.  

You almost want to tease, poke fun at him, but then you remember your father standing mere inches away who probably wouldn’t like you flirting so unabashedly with his friend/coworker.

Instead, you roll your eyes and head towards your cart. “I’m fine. So, what can I get for you, handsome?”

You’re pulling up the POS on your iPad when you notice Aaron hasn’t answered yet. You turn to lean your hip against your cart, meeting his gaze steadily from where he’s studying you.

You decide to blatantly look him up and down— drinking in the fitted dark green polo, showing off the veins decorating his forearms, and black slacks, making him appear taller and hanging enticingly low on his hips. His hair is tousled from the wind and you notice some gray dusting at his sideburns. And then there’s something about the Rolex on his wrist, God, he’s so hot.

Aaron notices you checking him out, because of course he does. His eyes barely flicker down your body, not quite taking the same liberty as you, but you feel want curling in your stomach when he licks his lips.

“A gin and tonic sounds great, sweetie,” your father says, once again interrupting your thoughts, before he’s immediately launching into a ramble regarding what you assume is some office gossip.

“A water is fine,” Aaron says in between your dad’s breaths. He gives you a sheepish little twitch of the mouth that you shouldn’t find so endearing before he turns to give your dad his full attention.

You make your dad’s drink, the motions automatic and familiar, before you’re opening the cooler and bending over to reach a water bottle at the very bottom. You weren’t really doing it on purpose this time, too focused on getting the coldest bottle at the bottom of the cooler for him, but you still feel a thrill run up your spine when you hear a choked cough behind you.

At least you chose a skort today and not a skirt, though you’re sure it still doesn’t leave much room for the imagination with its flimsy white fabric.

A smirk tugs at your lips, hidden by the cooler, before you turn around with a polite smile and drinks in your hands. Maybe you weren’t wrong about being too juvenile for Aaron after all. “Here you guys are.”

When Aaron’s fingers brush against yours, something hot twists itself into your stomach and settles in between your thighs. You meet his gaze and notice his eyes, dark and almost predatory, pupils nearly completely blown.

You distantly hear your name being called through the blood rushing in your ears. When you break from the hold Aaron’s stare has on you and turn to where the sound came from, you spot Jerry still standing near his golf bag. He and his friends evidently still haven’t taken their shots and moved on yet, instead beckoning you over with a wave as if you were some bumbling waitress.

“Well, duty calls,” you feign a sigh. When you turn back around, Aaron’s wearing an almost petulant frown as he watches Jerry continue calling for you.

“We’ll see you around, pumpkin,” your dad says before slapping a $50 dollar bill in your hand, tutting at Aaron when he starts to pull out his wallet. “Let’s get a move on.”

And then he’s walking away, once again leaving you and Aaron alone.

You move to clean up your cart from where you made your drink, expecting Aaron to silently follow your father and not seeing him for several weeks again. You’re pleasantly surprised, maybe even a little smug, when you hear Aaron clear his throat, as if unsure what to say. And wouldn’t that be something—causing a unit chief of the FBI to hesitate.

“You get off at 6, right?”

A lazy grin blooms across your face as you meet Aaron’s eyes. He appears composed, stoic, but you can see the uncertainty swimming in his eyes, the frown still tugging at his lips as if he can’t get the thought of you with Jerry off his mind. He’s rubbing his thumb across his fingers and you wonder how it would feel on the bare skin of your hips.

“I sure do,” you chirp. “I’ll see you then?”

You can tell that Aaron wasn’t expecting you to give him another chance at backing out. His eyebrows raise in surprise, similarly to how they did when he first met you, like he thought he had you all figured out.

“See you then.”

-

Although you’re stuck with Jerry and his friends for the next 3 hours, you can feel the heavy weight of Aaron’s watchful eyes on your back the entire time. There were even several moments where you thought he was going to burn a hole in the back of your head, or especially Jerry’s, every time he put his clammy hands on yours to help you with a swing or at the small of your back.

And so what if you played it up a little, knowing that you barely knew Aaron but you were already digging your way under his skin?

Knowing Aaron was only several yards away, you laughed extra hard at Jerry’s jokes and bent over a little more every time you set the ball on the tee. It was exhilarating, playful in a way you’ve never felt before. You couldn’t deny that noticing the carnal way Aaron reacted to you, how he stared at you like he wanted to eat you alive, didn’t get you all hot and bothered. You’re sure the wetness between your legs was proof enough.

By the time 6 o’clock finally rolls around and you’re pulling up to the extra storage shed at the back of the country club, your wallet has grown a couple hundred dollars more and your cart’s glove box has gained a couple more slips of paper with phone numbers to gather dust in.

You’ve just finished unloading your cart and cleaning out your shelves when you hear another cart pulling up behind you. When you turn and realize that it’s Aaron, that he actually showed up, you feel giddy in a way you haven’t felt since you were a teenager.

“Hey you,” you say over the stack of crates you’re trying to organize. “Let me finish up real quick and then we can go.” Go where, you have no idea, but you’re sure the two of you will figure it out.

“Do you need any help?” he asks, standing so close to you now you can get a full whiff of his cologne. It’s something woodsy and warm that settles comfortably in your chest.

Any other day, you would’ve taken up his offer if only as an excuse to see him lifting crates of drinks and drooling over the way his arms would surely nearly burst out of his sleeves, but you’re honestly almost done and ready to get the hell out of here. “I’m almost done, I promise. But next time you can help so you can show off.”

Aaron immediately rolls his eyes, but you watch with glee as something quirks at the corner of his lips. “Yes, I sat in my car in the parking lot and waited for you just to show off.”

Damn, he is so cute when he’s actually making jokes with you.

You put away all of the cleaning products and lock the door before you’re stepping out to stand in front of Aaron where he’s hovering near your cart.

When you crane your neck to look up at him, you’re suddenly aware of how alone the two of you are, tucked away in a secluded area at the back of the country club where only employees have access to. The two of you are surrounded by trees, thankfully shielding you from the sun, and there’s only one path in and out of the area. The near constant drone of cicadas would be almost annoying if your attention wasn’t all focused on Aaron.

“So, why did you wait for me then?”

And just like that, Aaron’s eyes darken and he clenches his jaw. Now that there was nobody else around, teasing him almost felt like you were poking at a grumpy bear. A cute and very hot bear, but a bear, nonetheless.

“So I can do this.”

And then he’s placing a gentle hand on your waist, hot despite your already sun-kissed skin, and leaning in slowly, as if giving you the chance to back out in case he was reading your signals wrong.

You don’t think you could’ve laid it on thicker, so you meet him halfway to finally press your mouths together.

His lips are soft and he smells like sunscreen, and the way he kisses you is so tender it makes your chest tighten just a little. But it’s not enough.

You step closer into him, throwing your arms around his neck, and deepen the kiss. You catch him by surprise, detecting the exasperated smile against your mouth, but then his hand tightens its grip on your hip and he’s pulling you until you’re pressed flushed up against him.

You can feel the muscles in his chest and the softness of his stomach this way, and it’s so fucking delicious you can’t help the moan that comes out of your mouth and into his.

It’s like a dam breaks loose because Aaron groans into your mouth, now causing you to smile, and then he’s spinning you around until he’s sitting in your golf cart and you’re planted right on his lap, straddling him with your knees on either side of his hips and the steering wheel digging into the small of your back.

You gasp in surprise, nearly dizzy with the action, but it melts into a breathy moan when Aaron’s hands run all over you—down your back, your hips, the flesh of your thighs, and then grabbing onto your ass so hard it just pushes you further into his lap. The barely there friction of his belt buckle against your pussy from the movement has you rolling your eyes back into your head, causing you to cant your hips forward again to chase the sharp pleasure twisting in your stomach.

“You’re so,” he mutters under his breath, face tucked between your breasts as he attempts to press open-mouthed kisses against the skin exposed by your black work polo. “Pretty.”

Then he’s lifting up your shirt until it gathers underneath your arms, just enough so he can move the band of your sports bra up so he could put his warm, wet mouth on the underside of your breasts. You know you must smell like sweat and sunscreen, your clothes still sticking to you, but that seems to just spur Aaron on as he moves up to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking it repeatedly with his tongue.

“Aaron…” you exhale, pushing your chest into him to chase the wet heat of his mouth as he continues alternating sucking and licking at your nipples, hardening nearly immediately under him. It feels so fucking divine, you don’t think having your nipples played with has ever felt this good. You don’t even want to think about where else he can use his mouth. “Not here…”

He pulls back from your breasts and you’re mesmerized by the spit-slick shine of his lips as he meets your gaze from below you. His hands immediately come to replace his mouth, initially groping at you until thick fingers are grazing over your nipples before gently pinching. “There’s a banquet going on at the front of the club so no one’s coming back here.”

You have to bite your lip to prevent a whimper at the hot pleasure-pain from your breasts, your own hands coming up to tug at the damp hair on the back of his neck. Aaron groans at that, a sound coming deep from within his chest, and he jerkily thrusts his hips up as if they moved of their own accord.

You can feel the line of his hard cock against your inner thigh, so close to where you desperately want him, and your patience wanes thin for just a moment. Of course Aaron checked out the club first before coming back to meet you, as if he was planning on ambushing you behind the country club the entire time.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Aaron says, voice tight as if he was holding himself back from taking you right there on your golf cart with the fuzzy pink blanket on the seat and fairy lights hanging from the dashboard.

You’re tempted take him up on his offer and stop; climbing off his lap and inviting him back to your apartment so you can moan and scream all you want in your very comfortable bed, because Aaron seems like the type of man to want to hear every single noise.

But the thought of both of you being so desperate that you can’t help but rut against each other behind a fancy country club, where you’re at risk of anyone walking around the building and finding you? With your shirt rolled up and Aaron’s fingers nearly pressing bruises against your hips? You really should not find that as intoxicating and hot as you do.

It’s going to be uncomfortable, with the summer sun just barely moving to set over the horizon and your golf cart sometimes being too small even for you. You feel sweat already forming on your upper lip and hair sticking to your neck, internally hitting yourself for not buying that $5 fan that mounts on your dash.

Yet, as you look down at Aaron from where he’s propped his chin on your chest to meet your gaze, somehow looking both cute and ridiculously hot, you knew you couldn’t back out.

“Okay,” you whisper, grinning down at him before your fingers intertwine with his hair again to lean his head back and kiss him.

You think Aaron chuckles but you’re already swallowing it, shuffling somehow closer until the entire line of your body is against his. The top of your head keeps bumping into the roof of the cart and your thighs are already burning from the uncomfortable position of sitting up, but just then you angle your hips differently when you drop down and his bulge rubs against your clit in a way that has you sucking in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, you’d look so pretty riding on my cock,” Aaron breathes against your lips, the grip he has on your waist tightening as he starts to move you up and down on his lap. “I bet you’re so wet for me.”

His left hand trails down your thigh, moving inward, and you squirm when you feel his thick fingers pressing against your cunt, wetness already seeping through your panties and the shorts of your tennis skirt. He briefly rubs through down your slit, spreading the wetness around and causing the fabric to cling to you.

“Is this all for me, pretty girl?” he murmurs, not even giving you the chance to answer before he’s moving the fabric aside to press his hot fingers against your soaked cunt.

You let out a long moan at finally being touched, the ache between your thighs becoming unbearable. You try to angle your hips in an effort to get more of his fingers on you, maybe even inside of you, but Aaron annoyingly avoids your hole and instead intently traces them gently through your folds before moving up to rub circles against your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, eyes nearly fluttering shut and your thighs trembling as the tight coil in the pit of your stomach builds so fast it knocks the breath out of you.

Aaron hums. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod, at a loss for words as you chase the building pressure. He rubs your clit agonizingly slow, like he wants to prolong this as he intently studies your reactions.

You’re about to beg him to hurry up when he stops and removes his fingers from underneath your skirt. Your breath stutters at the loss of sensation until you notice Aaron holding his hand up to eye-level.

His thick fingers are obscenely drenched in your wetness, nearly glistening. You should feel embarrassed, that you’re so horny for him that you’re getting off at the possibility of being caught, but you don’t. In fact, noticing just how much Aaron is enjoying you enjoying yourself makes you feel even more flushed, more needy.

You lean in to bring his two fingers into your open mouth, swirling your tongue around the rough callouses as your own musky taste infiltrates your senses.

When you look down to meet his eyes, yours no doubt glossed over, he nearly growls as he yanks his fingers out of your mouth and kisses you, tongue prodding against yours. You feel a rumble from his chest as he chases the taste of your pussy in your mouth.

When he pulls back, he has a wild look in his eyes that does nothing to quell the fire in your stomach and the growing ache in your pussy. He runs his hands up and down your sides, nearly reverent, before thrusting his hips up so his cock presses against you. “Do you think you can come like this?”

Honestly, you think you could come in 30 seconds, with the way he grabs and moves your hips so deliciously you swear you could feel every inch of him, staring at you as if he couldn’t believe you were giving him the time of day.

“Yes,” you breath, and then Aaron is giving you a wicked grin, something dangerous in his eyes.

He moves you until you’re fully seated on his lap, giving your knees a break, and then moving you back and forth against his cock, the drag of his slacks against the fabric of your shorts rubbing deliciously against your clit, causing you to nearly choke on your own saliva.

You rest your forehead against his, both of you panting, as you start grinding against him. Even through the several layers of fabric, you can feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing in between your cunt and against your clit. You nearly feel dizzy, like the heat was getting to you, as your hands scramble to find purchase on his broad shoulders.

“Just like that, honey,” Aaron pants as you watch a droplet of sweat run down the side of his face through half-lidded eyes. “Make yourself come just like that.”

You’re shamelessly whimpering in between your moans now as you grind against him faster, the tightness in your core growing at the lewdness of his words. Aaron just lets you rut against him, essentially sitting still besides his hands on your hips helping you move back and forth. You feel the stickiness on your inner thighs, a mixture of sweat and your arousal, and you bet if you glanced down, there’d be a wet spot on his slacks. That image in your head sends you reeling and nearly over the edge, your thighs squeezing around his hips.

“Come on, sweetie.” Fuck, even the low tone of his voice adds to it, the raspiness giving away how just as equally turned on he was. Your chest is heaving, thighs trembling, and you’re so fucking close. “I can’t wait to fuck your pretty pussy later, make you come, over and over on my cock.”

Aaron rolls his hips then, and the new angle has the head of his cock pressing against your clit just so that has you gasping, back arching, and you finally fall over the edge as your orgasm hits you like a fucking train.

Your breath is knocked out of your chest, your eyes squeezing shut as you desperately chase the feeling of his cock against your clit as your clench around nothing. You distantly feel Aaron still grinding your hips back and forth as you ride it out, the tight hold he has on your hips just adding to your bliss. The repeated motions eventually become overstimulating, almost too much, but it deliciously adds to your aftershocks and causes you to release a choked whimper.

When you blearily blink your eyes open, Aaron is staring at you like he’s drinking you up, memorizing every little detail about you. The hair at his forehead is curling from the sweat and his face is tinged pink, but his eyes are a pretty molten brown and there’s something soft tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey handsome,” you say breathlessly, giving him a weary smile as you bring your hand up to wipe away the sweat on your own forehead. When you purse your lips, Aaron huffs a laugh and immediately leans in to give you a chaste kiss that does nothing to calm your racing heart.

You feel Aaron languidly move his hips up against you, making you hum against his mouth. When you look down, not only do you see the line of his cock where he’s still impossibly hard, but also a barely visible wet spot on his black slacks. From you.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, embarrassment burning hot on your ears.

“I’m not,” Aaron says before his hands come down to swiftly unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants and briefs until his cock springs free.

Your mouth instantly waters because fuck, is he big. He’s thick, a drop of precum beading at the slit with a delicious-looking prominent vein that runs on the underside that you can see when he wraps his left hand around his cock and starts jerking himself off.

“Do you want me to…” you trail off, your hands twitching from where they’re still on top of his shoulders and eyes zeroing in on his large hand on his cock.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he huffs. “I’m close, just sit there and look pretty.”

You think your brain short circuits, because no way is this man not only okay with you rutting up on him, but also got close enough to coming from watching you come? And now he doesn’t even want you to touch him, he’s okay with just looking at you as he gets himself off?

Your heart thumps erratically because Aaron looks like the absolute definition of sin; hair slightly damp and tousled, his bicep flexing from where he’s erratically jerking himself off, and his chest heaving deliciously. His lips are parted and he’s watching you with half-lidded eyes, your shirt still bunched under your arms and exposing your breasts and your aching thighs wrapped around him.

You lean back against the steering wheel, ignoring how it digs harder into your back, as you decide to flip up your skirt until your clothed cunt is exposed. The piece of fabric is nearly see-through with how wet you are, and you bite your lip when you bring a hand down to move the fabric aside and angle your hips up until your bare pussy was exposed.

Aaron lets out a strangled noise, and you watch in awe as his hand around his cock pumps faster until it’s nearly a blur. You look up to see his eyes trained on your pussy, wet and puffy. The squelching of him fucking into his own hand, so turned on that he was steadily leaking precum from the slit of his cock was so fucking filthy that you felt the beginning sparks of arousal tugging in your abdomen again.

“Are you going to come all over my pussy?” you whisper.

Aaron suddenly lets out a deep and guttural groan, his breath stuttering and hand stilling, before he comes with his head thrown back. You watch, mesmerized, as hot spurts of his come land on your bare pussy, some even catching on your folds as you clench around nothing.

It’s so fucking hot, he’s so fucking hot.

It’s silent while you both catch your breath, the mindless chirping of birds dwindling down as the sun finally starts to set and the air begins to slightly cool.

You pull your shirt down before you lean over to reach for the tissues you usually keep in your purse on the floor. The way you have to twist your body while still on Aaron’s lap is uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he helps you sit back up with hands on your sides.

He wordlessly takes the pack of tissues from your hand to clean you up. He’s meticulous, eyebrows almost comically furrowed in concentration as he makes sure you’re presentable again. When he’s done, he looks around for a trash can and, upon not finding one, he stuffs the tissues in his pocket. You give him a teasing disgusted look, to which Aaron responds by rolling his eyes.

When you climb off his lap with a groan, your hips and knees pop. You stretch your back out a bit by twisting your body back and forth and notice Aaron getting up as well, watching you with a confused, yet fond, expression.

“You’re too young for your body to crack like that.”

You laugh. “Whatever you say, grandpa.”

You’re suddenly being pulled into Aaron’s embrace with a squeal, an arm snaking around your waist, instinctively putting your hands up on his chest as you steady yourself.

“I think I’ve more than shown you that I’m not a grandpa,” he mutters, lowly and directly in your ear, making you nearly swoon against him.

You clear your throat, using him as leverage to push back at him until you’re able to meet his eyes. “Well, not-grandpa, would you be able to wash my cart blanket? Since it was your idea to dirty it up.”

You can tell Aaron is holding himself back from rolling his eyes again. Instead, he chuckles, letting you go so he could grab the fuzzy pink blanket that is actually most likely devoid of any suspicious stains.

“Can I ride in your car?” you ask, giving him a shy smile. “So I can… see how efficient your washer and dryer is? The material for that blanket is very expensive, you know.” Never mind the fact that you got it from Target nor the fact that you drove yourself to the country club.

Aaron obviously sees right through you, not bothering to hold back a soft laugh. Witnessing him joking with you, his guard down, has your heart thumping just a little bit harder.

He stretches his hand out to you, palm up. “Come on, let’s go inspect my house appliances then.”

You place your hand in his, silently giggling to yourself when you notice how large his hand looks compared to yours, and sidle up next to him despite both of you still damp with sweat.

“Let’s go, hot grandpa.”

The laugh that Aaron lets out, soft and sweet, makes you so grateful to your dad for getting you this job.

taglist <3 @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover lmk if you would like to be added!

[taycherouzz]

rodrick bf headcanons fem/gen reader pls? 💗🤗

this is a part of what I think Rodrick would be like, hope you liked and enjoyed it!

there is no doubt he ALWAYS invites you to his gigs and band rehearsals

As the band Löaded diper started playing, Rodrick's eyes kept drifting towards you. Every time he looked at you, he couldn't help but smile, his focus wavering. He tried to keep up with the beat, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Rodrick, dude, focus!" one of his bandmates called out, snapping him back to reality.

He chuckled and nodded, trying to concentrate, but it was no use. Your presence was too distracting, and every time he glanced your way, his heart skipped a beat. You couldn't help but blush, knowing you were the reason for his distraction.

During a break, Rodrick came over to you, shaking his head with a grin. "You're killing me here" he teased, his eyes filled with affection.

You laughed, playfully nudging him "I'm just here to support you". "Well, you're doing a great job" he said, leaning in for a quick kiss "Maybe a little too good".

when you both can't sleep (or just out of boredom), he would take you to have late-night drives

The city lights blurred past as you cruised through the streets, the windows rolled down and the cool night air filling the van. He played a mixtape he made just for these drives, the music perfectly capturing the mood.

As he drove, Rodrick took you to a secret spot he had discovered—a hill overlooking the city, where the lights twinkled like stars. He parked the van and you both got out, sitting on the hood and enjoying the breathtaking view.

"This is our little hideaway" he said, taking your hand "Just you and me" you completed his sentence while you smiled.

Rodrick wrapped his arm around you, and you leaned into him, the music still playing in the background while you both looked into the mesmerizing view ahead of you.

I feel like sometimes you both would prank greg

One afternoon, you both decided to play a classic prank on Greg: the old "fake spider in the bed" trick.

You and Rodrick carefully placed a realistic-looking spider under Greg's blanket, making sure it was positioned just right. Then, you both hid around the corner, waiting for Greg to come into his room.

When Greg finally walked in and pulled back his blanket, he let out a loud scream, jumping back in fright. You and Rodrick burst into laughter, high-fiving each other for the successful prank.

Greg quickly realized it was a fake spider and glared at both of you. "Very funny, guys" he muttered in a sarcastic tone while rolling his eyes.

he would 100% teach you how to play drums

"Okay, let's start with the basics" he said, handing you the drumsticks, he sat on the stool and he positioned you on his lap.

Rodrick's arms guided yours as he showed you the proper way to hold the sticks. "It's all about the rhythm. Just feel the beat" he explained, tapping a simple pattern on the snare drum.

You tried to follow his lead, your movements awkward at first. But with his patient guidance and encouragement, you started to get the hang of it. "That's it! You're doing great" he said, a proud smile on his face.

The garage was soon filled with the sound of your combined laughs, and the sense of accomplishment you felt was indescribable.

when you have a sleepover, you would definitely make marathons of horror films or comedies

One rainy Saturday, you decided to have an all-day movie marathon. Rodrick had a stack of DVDs ready, and you both created a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in the living room. As the first movie started, Rodrick pulled you close, his arm around your shoulders.

Halfway through the night, a particularly scary scene made you jump, and you buried your face in Rodrick's shoulder. He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her tighter "Don't worry, I've got you" he reassured.

Between movies, you'd debate which one was the scariest or funniest, sharing your favorite scenes and inside jokes.

By the end of the night, you were both sleepy but happy, the warmth of your time together lingering long after the credits rolled.

he has no problem on letting you use his löaded diper shirts, but I feel like he would make one shirt specially for you

Rodrick was incredibly proud of his band, Löded Diper, and he loved seeing you in their merch. One day, he surprised you with a special gift: a custom band T-shirt. The front had the band's logo, but it was the back that made you smile the most—it boldly read "Drummer's GF".

"You like it?" he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

You grinned and nodded "I love it! It’s perfect".

Every time you wore the shirt, Rodrick's face would light up with pride. He'd often brag to his bandmates about his amazing girlfriend who supported him wholeheartedly.

despite his though side, he has a soft spot for you, which causes him to be protective over you

One evening, you both decided to go to a local concert. The venue was packed, and the crowd was getting rowdy.

You felt a bit overwhelmed by the pushing and shoving, and Rodrick immediately noticed. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his side.

"Stay close to me" he whispered in your ear. He navigated through the crowd, making sure you were safe and comfortable.

Throughout the night, he kept a watchful eye on you, ensuring that no one got too close or made you uncomfortable.

he would definitely make you a mixtape with songs that reminded him of you, and you listen to it together in his van while he explains why that song (or which part) made him think of you

You were parked in Rodrick's van, the low hum of the engine barely audible over the mixtape he'd made for you. The song "Think About You" by Guns N' Roses started to play, and Rodrick turned to you with a soft smile.

"Listen to this" he said, his eyes meeting yours "these lyrics made me think of you".

As the song played, he explained "It's the way the song talks about always having you on my mind. Whenever I'm not with you, I miss you... God that was just so corny" he muffled with a chuckle while looking down.

But he lifted his gaze and saw you blushing, feeling your heart swell with emotion. Rodrick's hand found yours, and you sat in comfortable silence, letting the music speak for the both of you.

you would help him with homework and have study sessions together (but you always end up making out instead)

Books and notes were spread out on Rodrick's bed, ready for today's session, but it didn't took long for distractions to take over.

As you leaned in to explain a math problem, Rodrick's lips found yours in a quick kiss, and then another, and another one after that, until you find yourself making out with him instead of studying.

"C'mon, Rod, we have to study" you murmured between kisses, trying to stay focused.

"One more, and then we'll study" he promised, but his lips met yours again, and you couldn't help but kiss him back.

Your kisses grew more frequent, each one stealing your breath away. You kept trying to remind him of your homework, but his persistence made you lose track of time.

Each kiss pulled you deeper into the moment, and soon enough, the textbooks were forgotten as you got lost in each other.

[sacrificiallane]

smut ﹙ A for effort ❞ Percy Jackson

request ! ❛ Hello! Could you please please write Percy Jackson x reader, where she is upset about getting a “bad” grade on a test (she got like 95/100) and Percy kisses away her tears and goes down on her while holding her hand as a reward and to cheer her up… ❜ / cw ! fem!reader | very fluff & comfort | fem receiving | oral | some licking | some crying

"Oh. Please don't cry, sweet girl ..." The frown on your boyfriends face was immediate when he'd opened the door for you, seeing the familiar disappointed teary gaze. He was quick to usher you inside his home, welcoming you with a ― much needed ― long-lasting hug, of which he only pulled away when you did first.

Now he was just wiping tears from your face, in order to soothe your solemn mood. "I know you studied so hard for this ..." His hands were placed on either side of your face, gently brushing his thumb over your rosy cheeks, flushed from all the crying. Over and over again, despite your tears not stopping anytime soon, it seemed.

Days and Nights he's seen you work on your notes, trying to memorize things he hasn't ever even heard of ! On calls with him, even sleepovers ... there had been barely any breaks from what he'd often ― playfully ― called his replacement. And yet, despite your efforts ...

Percy watched in mild confusion when you softly pushed the graded paper against his chest, sniffing as you waited for his reaction.

And... there was barely anything marked in red ! In fact, you didn't do bad at all... But, still, 5 points away from your aspired goal. You'd worked yourself towards academic perfection, of course. And 95 out of 100 ― in your mind ― was just not that. So close to what you wanted, yet not quite.

Nonetheless, he offered a soft smile, crumbling the stupid thing with just one hand so he didn't have to let go of you completely. "It's really not that bad," he offered gently, kissing your cheeks a couple of times to try and get you to smile. But nothing.

It looked like you really just wanted to wallow in self-pity a bit more...

But, not with Percy, you wouldn't.

"I still love you if you were worried 'bout that ," He grinned a little, sea green eyes glimmering with nothing but love and affection for you when he watched your lips pull up just a smudge as well. His hand reached for your trembling one, and intertwined them, hoping to ground you even further. "You did your best, I know you did ."

His mouth pressed against your locked hands, your wrist, your arm, until he was tightly pressed against you, kissing your neck. Soft coos of 'I'm so proud of you' and 'my smart girl' followed the same path of his mouth, when he roamed closer to your ear. And then, gently, you were pushed onto your back, and further into his sheets. Firm, yet tender.

"Did so good..." he hummed, kissing the last of your tears away, interlacing one of your hand with his own as he slowly pushed your pants past your knees. Taking his sweet time with it, too. Making you feel loved and cared for. And even if a few little sniffles were still escaping your lips, the feeling of his fingers hooking into the sides of your underwear had it turn into some sweet stuttering real quick.

You were just so glad to have closed his door when you came in ...

"Worked so hard, sweet girl ." His nose nuzzled delicately against your now exposed thighs, peppering some light and ... wet kisses against the skin that had you gasping for more.

And your eyes closed at his coaxing, legs spreading wider for a promised moment of bliss from your favorite boy ♡ You swallowed thickly at the feeling of his fingers opening you up. Gently brushing against your insides like he was trying to perform a magic trick or something. Cautious, and calculated.

Percy certainly knew all about your bodies secrets ...

The young demigod watched with a little smile at your relaxed state. Even more when you gasped softly for him, your fingers tightening their hold on his. "I'm here," another kiss sweetly pressed to your most sensitive parts, "just let me make you feel good."

And he did make you feel good. Always !

Your fingers found solitude inside his dark locks, tugging gently when his tongue lapped gently over your clit. Tasting you with soft, broad caresses. And oh, Percy would always eat you with noises of his own pleasure ♡

Giving you satisfaction was almost as good as receiving it himself !

His voice was so soothing, that it wasn't hard for you to just relax underneath him at all . And with each and every touch, you cared less and less for your 'failed' test.

And Percy Jackson worked his way to an absolute divine sight, that nothing else could elver do it justice ― your face when you came for him ♡ Throughout pleasured and longing for his mouth on yours once more.

𓂃 🖊 more .

[dinogoofymutated]

You asked for some smut suggestions for Logan, and I got one:

So like…I mean…Logan might be on the short side, but he’s still big! I mean, like,,,those hands 🫣 It would be nice to see a fic to do with Logan and a little manhandling. but not like in a BDSM way, more like a “I am very strong, and here’s a little reminder” type way. Might seem kinda silly but I’d enjoy a fic like that lol.

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB!Reader Ask and you shall receive!! I've spent like the last four days working on this and atp I can't looks at it anymore lol. I'm not super happy with how the beginning is written, but I still think it's alright enough to post lol. It's a lot more tell than show compared to most of my other fics, and I was halfway tempted to reformat it into headcannons, but I didn't feel like it. Anyway, hope you like the way I included the manhandling lol! Hope it turned out okay :) Also, might or might not be tall logan. I'll leave it up to yall to assume, I'm just short af so there's not a single person in marvel who wouldn't have to look down at me lmao.

Edit:FUCK I FORGOT THE READ MORE! TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Seriously, you will be blocked. Masterbation, lil bit of a scent kink. Sexual frustration. Manhandling. Jealous Logan. Creampie. Logan calls you "sunshine" and pretty and shit. I'll add more if I can think of any.

    You had a problem. You’ve had a problem. And it really didn’t seem like it was getting any better. It didn’t help the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing, either.

    You couldn’t get off. It’s not like you ever struggled with it before, but lately, it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. At first, you didn’t realize why. Maybe it was because you moved into the X-Mansion. Nerves because you’re living somewhere new, right? So you change it up a little. You got comfortable, had a glass of wine or two, and picked up a raunchy book. Yet every time you slipped your hand between your thighs… Running circles around your own clit, trying your best to finger yourself to your finish, you just could never quite hit that peak. It was safe to say you were beyond frustrated.

    Lucky for you, most people didn’t notice. You try your best not to be too uptight or mean, but there are just some things that you can’t quite hide from certain people.

    Logan’s noticed that something is up with you. You can tell he has, seeing the looks on his face, nose scrunched up in a way he’s catching into something that he just can't quite place. You’re assuming it’s your own pheromones, but hey, as long as he doesn’t realize what it is you’ll be fine, right?

     Maybe not.

    Eventually, you finally realized why you were having so much trouble getting off. All it took was one training session with Wolverine, and you knew immediately. You weren’t sparring or anything like that, hell, you knew before you even hit the danger room floor. Logan was in a bit of a mood today, although not as grumpy as he can be- and he’s trying to be patient with you. You can tell. But you’re having trouble focusing today- and you have been for a while. He can tell you’re not at 100% just by the way you hold yourself, and spends about 5 minutes watching as you struggle to reset the Danger room panel before he’s finally fed up with it.

    “Jesus fuck. Here, let me do it.” Logan grabs you by the waist, pulling you to his chest with one arm as the other reaches around you to reset the panel. It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive before, but the close contact? The smell of his aftershave and the sound of his voice growling in your ear? 

    oh.

    Oh. 

    You were having trouble getting off because you had a thing for Logan.

    You’re practically stunned when he pulls away, standing there with a flushed face and something rather embarrassing pooling in your underwear for the first time in a while. You had to quickly excuse yourself before you ran the risk of him catching onto anything coming from you. He’s a little confused for a second, but you can hear the sound of his low chuckle as you scramble away.

    First thing you do? Go to the store.

    It's not a random errand. At least, not entirely. You had meant to go out with Storm to grocery shop later this afternoon, but you told her you could really use some time out of the house by yourself, which she completely understood. You had the list and everything, it was only a coincidence that you passed by the cologne section on your way to pick up some toothpaste. The sight made you stop for a minute, the gears grinding in your skull. You spent just a few minutes curiously sampling the bottles until you found one that smelled a bit familiar… Should you? No, that's a bit strange. But really, what was the harm, right? I mean, who would know? 

    So you bought it. You felt a bit embarrassed afterward, knowing what you bought it for, and ended up letting it sit in the drawer of your side table for a good while. Until another desperate attempt at fucking your own brains out, that is. 

    You were sweaty and uncomfortable in your bed, sleep shirt sticking to your skin as you struggled to pump your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. It’s been a while, and it shows. You couldn’t even get your favorite dildo to fit inside of you, only adding to your frustration. Touching your clit hardly helped much, leaving you as unsatisfied as ever. Eventually, you give up, lying there as you sigh to yourself. You turn over in your bed in a huff, halfway temped scream your lungs out into the pillow you bury your face in. Instead, you let out something that sounds more like a whisper than a yell, letting the air in your lungs deflate as you let your feelings out. You roll over onto your side when you’re done, halfway tempted to be done with it entirely and go back to bed when you catch sight of the nightstand drawer, slightly ajar. The amber bottle of liquid stares right at you. 

    You open the drawer some more, picking up the bottle and looking at it as you wonder if you’re actually going to do this. But you’re ridiculously horny, and tired, and you know you’re gonna have trouble falling asleep in the state you’re in- so you end up spraying the smallest amount on your pillow.

    It’s…nice. The pillow is warm from where you had been laying on it, and despite how strong men’s cologne could be, this one isn’t quite so striking. At least, not in the amount that you used. You relax back into your bed, pressing your face into the pillow and laying there for a moment. You start thinking about Logan… His calloused hands running across your skin. How his lips and tongue would feel against your own, trailing down your body to your breast. Your hand trails down to your clit as you imagine it as his own. You imagine him behind you, pressing you to the bed as he growls into your ear. You think about what his happy trail would feel like against you. What his cock would look like, feel like, pressing into you. Your legs twitch and shake as you see stars underneath your eyelids, the scent of Logan hitting all the right parts in your head and going straight to your cunt.

    Holy shit. 

    Your orgasm lasts what feels like forever. Your legs are still shaking as you whimper from oversensitivity and pull your hand away, panting as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t cum that hard since… ever. Maybe the cologne was worth it, after all.

    You felt really good the morning after. You found yourself humming in the shower, more energized at breakfast and morning drills. No one had said anything, but you knew there were a few who were relieved to see you back to your usual self. If anything, the only person you noticed acting very differently around you was Logan. He was more tense than normal. He scowled a lot, spending less time in your presence. You’d strike up a conversation that would only last a few minutes before he would make an excuse and leave. It made you a little disappointed. But you knew him and knew he had good and bad days, so you brushed it off at first. But a week, two weeks- almost a month went by, and still no change. You felt scorned almost, silently rejected by the guy you had finally realized you were practically in love with, and to be honest, the only man who could get you off just by thinking about him- and boy, did you get off while thinking about him. 

    You’ve almost resigned yourself to the fact that Logan wasn’t interested when he corners you one morning. He’s leaning up against the wall of the hallway,  waiting for you when you step out of your room. It makes you jump a little, closing your door quickly behind you, knowing damn well you hadn’t washed your sheets after fucking yourself to the moon and back last night and fully not wanting the smell to hit his nose. All Logan does is narrow his eyes. Shit.

    “Who is he.” He asks you. The question completely derails your train of thought. And you furrow your brow, confused. What was that about?

    “Who is he? Your guy?” He asks again, but it does little to clear up your confusion. You’re halfway wondering if he’s being serious at this point, stepping away from your door as you cross your arms.

    “What?” You ask. Logan huffs when you respond to him, cocking his head at you in a way that's more sarcastic than curious. The way he’s looking at you is doing some things that you don’t think you’d like to admit, eyes narrow and scrutinizing as you struggle to keep eye contact with him.

    “What do you mean? What guy?” You repeat back to him, starting to get a little frustrated. He snorts, rolling his eyes as his scowl lingers. He steps closer, looking down at you from less than a foot away with that angry stare.

    “Don’t play stupid with me, sunshine. I can smell him on you.” You ignore the way the nickname makes you shiver a little bit, too busy shrinking into yourself when you process the extent of his words. Smell. He could smell someone on you. Something. Oh god, this was embarrassing. 

    “Oh! That- It’s not what you're thinking!” You say, face flushed red. You’re flustered beyond belief, doing your best to convince him to leave it be, and it’s not going so well for you.

    “Sure it’s not.” Logan huffs. He starts to take steps forward, closing in on your personal space.

    “It’s not. I can promise you that.” You’re anxiously fiddling with your fingers now, taking a step back for every step he takes. He looked predatory, unlike any time you’ve seen him before. You haven’t even seen him like this in the danger room, even less so on the battlefield. 

    “Just tell me who he is.” Logan is adamant about it, his scowl beginning to turn into a frown. Your back hits your door, kickstarting your heart in surprise. You hadn’t realized he had backed you up so far.

    “I can’t!” You say, in the beginning stages of becoming absolutely exasperated, and already incredibly embarrassed. 

    “Why not!?” Logan Snaps, stopping just inches away from you. You cover your heated face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see shapes, wanting nothing more than to curl up and die right then and there.

    “Would you just leave it!” You shout, but Logan’s having none of it. 

    “No, I won't!” Logan grabs your wrists and moves them away from your face, holding them in front of your chest with a grip lighter than you might have thought. You groan in utter frustration and mortification, looking him dead in the eyes as your angry mouth starts speaking before your reasonable brain can fully catch up.

    “Jesus Christ Logan! Do you expect me to just whip out the silicone and show you?!” Your eyes widen as soon as you say it, slamming your mouth shut as you finally catch up with yourself. Logan is staring at you in absolute shock, jaw almost slack at the confession. 

    “...What?” He asks, slowly. You wince, looking off to the side before deciding it's a bit too late to get the cat back into the bag.

    “Its… Cologne. What you’re smelling. I use it to uh, help me…” You make a sort of gesture with your head, praying that you won’t actually have to spell it out for him. He’s still in shock as he looks at you, hands frozen with his fingers wrapped around your wrists. He clears his throat when he comes to, an unreadable expression on his face as he slowly steps forward again, close enough to press his forehead against your own as he presses you against your door.

    “You’re that pent up, you need cologne to help you get off?” He asks, and you don’t know what to say, cat catching your tongue as he leans forward. The side of his face brushes against your cheek as he leans down a little, the action making your skin prickle. One of his hands releases a wrist to slide up and across the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side as he takes a big sniff of your skin. He’s practically nuzzling you, angling his head so that he can smell the scent on the back of your head where you rest against your pillow at night. 

    He’d noticed it before, at night when most of his anger had worn off, sometime after he started to pick up the scent on you. The undertones, the top notes. But now with you this close, he can tell that it wasn’t another man he was smelling. No. It was just you. Your scent being drowned out by the smell of something that he could finally tell smelled rather suspiciously like his very own aftershave.

    “...Don’t tell me that you wanted it to smell like me.” He asks after a moment. You almost flinch at the sound of his deep rumble, turning your red face away from him. You swallow, feeling like you are absolutely burning up as you nod- right as Logan catches the unmistakable scent of arousal.

    “Fuck”

    You’re sure the sound was more animal than man as he cups your cheek rather aggressively, pressing his lips against your own in a rather desperate kiss. It takes you a second to return it, eyes wide as you process just what was happening. It didn't take long for you to melt into his desperate kisses though, every nip and brush of his teeth just like you imagined it would be. He presses his knee in between your thighs, finally releasing your other wrist to grab ahold of your hip instead. You accidentally let out a whine when he grinds your hips against him, your heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to explode. He curses again at the sound, both hands sliding around you to lift you against the door.

    You practically squeak in surprise, the noise caught by Logan’s mouth on your own one more time before he trails down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You gasp as he presses against you, his hips beginning to grind against your own. You’re having a hard time thinking, biting your lip as you do your best to stifle your sounds.

    “Logan-ah, can we… head inside, please?” He only grunts in response, shifting your weight as you both begin to fumble for the doorknob. He gets it before you do, hardly stumbling as the door behind you swings open. He’s kissing you again before the door is even closed, kicking it behind him. As preoccupied as you are, you at least have the common sense to reach over and try to lock the door before he carries you over to the bed. 

    He plops you down onto the mattress before he crawls over you, eyes half-lidded and just as lustful as your own. He pushes you down as you try to sit up. His breathing a little hard, pupils dilated to a size you had never seen.

    “Now I know why you closed the door so fast,” Logan smirks, having picked up the lingering scent of your sex on the sheets right away. You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off. His tongue snakes into your mouth, and you find that you can’t really remember what you were going to say anyway. He kisses you again and again, distracting you as he reaches above your head. He pulls away when he has the pillow in hand, and you know just by the look on his face that he knows exactly what he is holding.

    “Hate to break it to you, but this doesn’t exactly compare to the real thing.” He snarks. It makes you laugh, and for the first time in a while, you see a genuine smile spread across his face. 

    “Yeah.” You respond, taking the pillow from his hands and tossing it to a far-off corner. “I know.” You could revel in his smile for as long as he’d let you. Logan’s kisses start off sweeter this time, at least for a moment they did. They begin to become more and more rough as hands start to wander and clothes start to come off. His shirt is first to go, your hands running up and down the hair that spans his torso. Logan is quick to remove your shirt and bra in one go, one very small step away from cutting off your clothes entirely. He gives himself a minute to appreciate your breasts, pinching and teasing you by sliding a hand up the middle of your sternum, the back of his hand brushing the side of a tit as he watches you squirm underneath him, arching your back to push your chest out, practically begging him to finally touch you.

    “Patience is a virtue, Sunshine.” Logan says, causing you to scoff. You glare at him a little and all it does is make him chuckle a bit. 

    “Don’t be mean.” You whine. He laughs a bit harder as he finally lowers himself to your chest. He keeps his eyes locked on your own as he brushes the blunt ends of his teeth across the soft skin, but he’s never been the most patient man. It doesn't take him long to give in to you, sucking on each breast individually, massaging the soft skin of the opposite as he does so. 

    “Careful.” He growls when your own hands begin to wander, touching him over the fabric of his jeans. He releases your nipple with a pop, bearing his teeth as he presses his face back into your neck. You don't pay much mind to that, rather enjoying the grunts and sounds he makes as you slowly stroke his covered hardness from base to tip. You can't imagine how restrained he must be feeling. You can’t help but smirk a little as your hands drift up and down, before oh So slowly unbuckling his belt. Logan is agitated, practically bucking his hips into your hands to get you to just get over with it. 

    “Patience is a virtue.” You quote, only earning a restraining hold on your hands once again.

    “Fuck that.” Logan growls. He holds you by your wrists, pushing them above your head as he uses his free hand to remove his belt and frantically unbuckle his pants. You'd be complaining if it weren't for the view of his straining cock, slapping against his abdomen as he pulls his pants down. 

    You don't get to stare for too long before he flips you on your stomach like you weigh nothing. He lets your wrists go to pull down your shorts and underwear, a sticky string of your slick thinning as he pulls the items down.

    “Fuck. You're this wet from just that?” Logan asks you, taking two fingers and sliding them through your lips from behind, spreading his fingers to let himself see the mess you've made of yourself already.

    “...shut up.” You mumble, more focused on the feeling of those very same fingers sliding back and forth across your cunt, the tips just barely brushing against your clit every time. Logan chuckles, sliding one hand under your lower stomach to lift your hips with ease. Your hips buck as he slides a thick finger inside of you without warning, slowly sinking down to his knuckle with ease.

    “Might not even need foreplay at this rate.” Logan rumbles behind you, eyes set squarely on the sight of your pretty pussy spread wide open for him. You can only moan in response as he pulls it back out again, plunging a second finger into you this time. Your hands clutch the sheets as Logan begins to finger fuck you to his content, curling those thick digits to hit that one spot juuust right. You try not to buck or squirm too bad, halfway wondering if this is all just some wet dream. 

    “Logan-” You call out for him through your moans. He only hums in reply, preoccupied at the moment.

    “I- god- I need your cock, please.” You're not sure if it was the phrase or the begging, but it makes Logan groan. You feel embarrassingly empty as he pulls his fingers out. You hear the sound of him stroking his hard cock with your slick, groaning and humming to himself before he picks you up. He leans over you, adjusting to you your hands and knees as you finally feel that thick, thick cock grinding against you. You gasp at the way it feels, feeling Logan smirk against your back.

    “Having second thoughts?” The tone of his voice is teasing, but you know there's more than that behind the words. You vehemently shake your head, grinding back against him a little as you protest. Logan swears under his breath, holding onto your hips to keep them still as he sits up.

    Both of you groan each time the head of his cock catches on your clit, Logan thrusting through your lips again and again as he lubes himself with the wetness you provide for him. You gasp when his head catches on your slot, notching just right. 

    Logan pushes into you so slowly, and you feel like he's thicker than you ever imagined he would be. You're impatient, desperate. You push back onto him in an attempt to take him in more, but his hands on your hips stop you.

    “Believe me sweetheart, you don't want that yet.” Logan tells you, straining himself with how tight you feel around him. He soothingly rubs his thumbs against your skin, pressing into you until you have him completely, balls deep inside you. 

    “Please, please. Logan, Please, I need you to move.” Your begging starts to sound like nonsense to your own ears, but it makes Logan gasp all the same, his cock twitching from where it's buried inside of you. You practically cry in relief when he finally begins to thrust Inside of you.

    His hip smack against your ass with every thrust, the sound of the slap mixed with the sounds of your love and the headboard hitting the wall a lewd and filthy symphony. Even better than your own moans were Logan's himself. Each and every groan and growl above you gave you a whole new array of things to imagine while fucking yourself- if you ever had to do so again. 

    You whine and whimper with every strong thrust, Logan slow and forceful with every movement. It felt like he wanted your insides to memorize exactly how his cock feels inside of you, and you doubt you'd ever mind it. He filled you perfectly, hitting every sweet spot inside of you.

    Your arms are shaking. Struggling to hold yourself up with each and every rock of the bed. You barely start to buckle when He catches hold of you, an arm snacking under your chest and pulling you towards him. His hand spans your collarbone as he holds your back against his chest, holding you up as he continues to fuck you like no one before. You're closing in on that sweet release when his hips stutter a moment. His teeth dig into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you there close to him without breaking the skin.

    “Are… are you -ah- close?” You ask. Logan only responds with a short and simple - “Fuck!” - before he pulls out of you.

    You don't have time to whine about the emptiness before he's flipping you around, kissing you again as he pushes your back to the bed rather aggressively. He's quick to sling your legs over his arms, folding you in half as he sides fully into you in a single thrust. He's hitting you so much deeper in this position, chest pressed against your own as his thrusts continue to stutter. 

    Logan kisses you again, a bit differently than the last ones have been. These kisses are tender, sweet. A stark difference between his needy, frantic thrusts. There's a line of spit between you two as he pulls away, half-lidded eyes meeting your own. You’re closing in on your peak, and you can tell he is too. The pleasure is too much for you to handle at once, and you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut.

    “Look at me.” Logan grabs a hold of your chin, your eyes flying open as he thumbs at your lip and holds your head still. “Don't look away.” His hips stutter some more, the both of you groaning as you clench around him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as you finally cum around his cock. The fluttering of your walls are more than enough to send Logan over the edge, his cum warming your insides in thick spurts. Logan buries his face into your neck, groaning as you ride out both of your orgasms.

    The two of you lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Logan lets go of your sore legs, massaging your thighs as he presses sweet, comforting kisses to your cheek and temple. His hands wander up and down your sides, doing his best to soothe your aches without you even having to ask. -not that he would ever admit to having a soft side. Who would believe you if you told them that The Wolverine was a cuddler after sex anyway?

    “Why didn't you just tell me?” You ask after a long moment. Logan hums, his Face tucked into the crook of your neck.

    “Tell you what?”

    “That you were jealous.” Logan only snorts at that, playfully pinching your side.

    “Jealous of what? Your cologne?” He returns. You slap him on the shoulder as he chuckles at you, unable to stop the playful smile on your face.

    “You mean the cologne that you thought was a whole-ass guy?” Logan stops at that, instead choosing to cover your mouth with his palm as he tucks his head closer.

    “You're a lot prettier when you're quiet. You know that?”

[predestinatos]

forgive me, i've got an appetite — CL16 (18+) ⋆｡ ﾟ ⋆

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: reading week brings you and your academic rival closer than ever.

warnings & tags: MINORS DNI!!! smut, academic rivals to lovers, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, (a lot) of dirty (FILTHY..) talk, somewhat public sex (bathroom at a party), charles very dominant and hates losing, reader very sub and loves winning (it might change in later chapters!!), degrading, creampie, spit play.

note: i didn't proofread this and it's been a while since i wrote so i'm a bit dusty!!! please be patient i promise i'll be better. feedback would be much appreciated since it motivates me to keep writing.

Your heart raced inside your chest as the teacher walked across the room, paper sheets being carefully placed in front of each student, their faces of disappointment, relief, sadness and confusion arriving shortly after.

Your leg bounced up and down as the teacher got closer to you, a hint of a smile on his face, an indication that yes, it probably was good, but was it good enough?

You looked at the red ink on the sheet of paper he put in front of you, a “good work” escaping his lips. 98/100. Fuck.

It was good. More than good, even. But it didn’t quite matter, not yet, because there was a 2% chance the boy across the room had a better grade than you, and those odds terrified you. You looked at the teacher, who now walked towards him, same pride in his face, same silent comment you couldn’t hear but could guess, something along the lines of “excellent, Leclerc.”

You looked at him, his reaction. He smiled a smug smile, but not as confident as it had been on other times. At this point, you were sure you could know his results just by the facial expression he made as he grabbed the white paper, messily scribbled, so unlike your own clean paper. Lip bite and slow blink, 100/100. Smirk and immediate search through the paper for his one mistake, 99/100. A glance towards you and a nod that asked for your result, 98/100. Probably the most dreadful result to get. Smug smile with a half shrug, 97/100.

You won.

“Seven,” he mouthed from across the room, a small drop of hope his in eyes. You smiled, mouthing “eight” back, watching his reaction, waiting to complete the ritual you now shared. “Fuck you” he mouthed again, jokingly, as he placed his test in his bag and prepared to leave, the whole room filled with students hurrying to their next class.

You climbed up the auditorium stairs, leading up to the same door where you’d meet him. “Let me guess,” you started, barely looking his way as you walked alongside him, ready for the next class. “Theory fucked you over?”

“Don’t even mention it” he replied, before hurrying along to his dorm, a ‘later’ barely leaving his lips before he was out of sight. You moved along to your friends’ own room, where you had already left everything you needed for the night ahead.

“To a good reading week” you and your friends cheered, small shot glasses clinking against each other, part of the content inside them spilling before you downed the drink. It burned your throat, and you usually didn’t drink. In fact, this was the only one you were going to have for the rest of the evening, a celebratory act, a token of a good friendship and good grades.

The house was packed, and you weren’t sure whom exactly it belonged to, only that everyone in it was celebrating the same event, taking a collective breath of relief.

Between the talking, eating and drinking, a few hours had passed, the mood turning more carefree and light as people got tipsier and looser. You moved between the dancing bodies, the tight space feeling less claustrophobic and more comfortable now, finding a way to climb up the house’s stairs to the bathroom.

As you approach to open the door, someone else does it from the inside. His tall, broad figure almost crashes against yours, and the smell of weed hit you before you saw who it was. You looked up, about to complain, and your eyes met Charles’ now slightly red ones, the green in them fading behind his almost closed eyelids.

“Whoops” he said, his voice amused, happy, not the usual tense and focused one.

“Are you high?” you asked, the question leaving your lips with a smile, barely processing whatever dynamic you had going on.

“Mmmmmaybe” Charles said, jokingly dragging the word, exaggerating his ways but also proving the effect the drug had on him as he laughed at his own joke.

You patted him jokingly on the shoulder as a way to ask for him to move from the bathroom and let you in, but to your surprise, he remained still. “Charles?” you asked, as his eyes remained on you, an unreadable expression behind them.

“You should try it” he said suddenly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, shoulder against the doorframe.

“What?” you laughed, incredulous, barely registering what he had said. To your question, he merely pulled you inside the bathroom and shut the door, moving away from it in an attempt to let you escape, should you desire it.

“You should try some. I have an extra one.” he repeated, hand flying to the pocket of his jeans, removing a carefully prepared joint.

“Why would I?” you asked, now your turn to cross your arms across your chest, a mix of amusement and annoyance blending together.

“Because it’ll help you relax. It always helps me after exam season” Charles shrugged, a sheepish, lazy smile stuck to his lips.

“You do it after every exam season?” you eyes widened, and your own surprise annoyed you. You didn’t expect Charles to be the type to do something like that, though the reason why was unknown to you. You never saw him at hang outs or parties, at least the few ones you went to. It was implied, for you, that he simply was not interested.

He chuckled at your words, moving closer towards you as you spoke. “How do you think I survive the most stressful month of my fucking life?”

“And yet you still lost to me” you joked, analyzing how his t-shirt clung to his body tightly, how his rigid and strict rules for himself are visible in results, even when he tries to sedate them.

“Want a reward?” Charles’ voice was humorous but his eyes wee anything but. For the first time you met him, there was a hint of sincerity, an innuendo, a hint at something else that you could see. It was different, the way his head cocked to the side and his eyebrows rose, tongue playing with the inside of his cheek.

“What do you mean?” you asked back, voice almost a whisper, embarrassment over your loss of words causing your cheeks to go red. It was so sudden, this shift in energy. You could almost feel the sound of the music outside dimming, becoming softer in your ears as everything in the big bathroom became heightened. Every sound, every step.

Charles leaned back against the door and fiddled with the key placed there in order to lock it. He looked at you, looking for a hint of fear or regret, something that said you didn’t want to be there. You stared back, defiance in your eyes as you swallowed dryly.

“You know what I mean” his head hit the door softly as he stared at you, eyes exploring your body, your skin. You leaned against the washstand, both in search of something to hold on to and of a way to cross one leg over the other without him noticing too much. But he did.

His eyes went to your legs as you crossed them, then back to your face. He felt like a predator looking at his prey, hungry and knowing that she wanted it just as much as him. A hand rose to his face, his jaw, and he merely stared. “You deserve it, don’t you?” he continued, voice deeper, starving. “You’ve been so good. Better than me, even” Charles stepped closer and closer to you, slow steps that made your heart beat faster and deeper inside your chest.

He was now so close to you you could feel his hot breath on your skin, his hands on either side of you, gripping the marble of the sink, knuckles white due to his attempt at resisting. “You had to fucking remind me of that, didn’t you?” he whispered, one hand now raised, fingers hovering the skin in your arm like a test. “I hate losing,” a half-smile, eyes following the trail of his own finger as goosebumps spread across your skin.

Your heart was racing. The dress you were wearing now felt too tight and hot, sweat making the fabric cling to your body claustrophobically. “I love winning” you replied, snarky and disobedient, looking up at him from behind your eyelashes, a pleading expression written across your face.

“Aren’t you a little spoiled thing,” Charles replied once again, not giving away his own thoughts and emotions through words, though his body said otherwise: you felt his hardness against your stomach as he leaned closer to you, forehead touching yours. His words, his voice, his body, everything was already sending you over the edge, and you couldn’t help but let out a small whimper.

His eyebrows immediately raised at that, a feline smile spreading across his lips. He had caught you. “And needy too” his hand now touching your neck, thumb caressing your cheek as his eyes stared intently, deeply, at your lips. The intense gaze made you feel the urge to lick them, something subconscious telling you that you should. His thumb moved further ahead, reaching the corner of your lips and finally caressing them fully, roughly and softly at the same time, a juxtaposition of feelings only he could convey.

The pressure he applied suggested a silent request for you to open up - one that you complied with, desire clouding your judgement, your thoughts. You let him apply pressure on your tongue before sucking his thumb, the same pleased look in your eyes as you looked up at him. “Good girl” he muttered, eyes half closed not only by the drug in his system but by the sight of you. “Fuck you love this, don’t you?”

You could only nod in response, eyelids fluttering as you suppressed a smile, his thumb spreading saliva across your lips.

Charles was high. Not on drugs, or not only on drugs at least, but on you, on the view he had before him. He never imagined someone like you - so good, so organized, so innocent-looking, could be so alluring and intense. He felt higher than ever, his cock twitching inside his boxers and jeans, desperate to be wrapped around your cunt.

Without warning, his other hand pulled your dress up and your panties down, fingers glazing over your wetness. You were soaking. Part of you was embarrassed by how little it took for you to feel this way; empty, in need to be filled up by him, claimed; but another part was too far gone to tell. You moaned around his thumb which remained inside your mouth as he traced small, light circles around your clit.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he was as surprised by the words coming out of his mouth as you were, for he was not very vocal during sex, not like this. But he felt a strong need to be filthy, to let all of his thoughts out from his brain into yours, and test the reactions of your body as he went. “It’s this easy with you, huh? How long haven’t you been fucked properly?”

You were about to reply with “a month” but before the full word could get out, he tightened his grip on your face, pressure being applied to your cheeks as a way to call your attention to him. “I said properly.”

You didn’t know how to respond, but you didn’t have to, because before you could think of an answer, he inserted one of his fingers inside you, so slowly it almost caused you pain, your eyes watering at the need for more. “They don’t know what to do with you, do they?” Charles continued, hips grinding against nothing, a hint of his own composure disappearing. “They don’t know how to treat a pretty whore like you.” His lips were on yours now, biting them and letting his tongue swirl around yours messily and torturously.

Your fingers held on to his dark brown hair, pulling his face tightly towards you, his stubble now brushing against your neck as he sucked your skin while kissing it. “But I do. I know you just want attention. You want people to know you’re a good girl, so well behaved, so obedient” another finger slipped inside you, movements fast, the sound of your wet cunt filling the room, his hand gripping your waist tightly in an attempt to steady you. “Look at it” Charles demanded, your head lowering in order to witness the view: his arm moving rapidly and erratically, your legs spread wide for him, his veins forming an intricate pattern. “Fuck” you tried muttering, though you weren’t sure any coherent words were said.

“Yeah, what a mess” he tsked, mocking you as if he wasn’t flushed out too, as if his eyes weren’t dark and he wasn’t getting more incoherent himself. “You act all pretty but this is what you really like. Being a needy, messy, slut.” At his last word, he curled his fingers inside you as he applied pressure on your clit, a moved so sudden it made you spasm against the sink, one of your hands flying to your mouth in an attempt to shut yourself up.

But just as quickly as he did it, he removed his hand from inside you, leaving you empty and practically dripping over him. He was breathing heavily as he unbuttoned his jeans and lowered them along with his black boxers, a small precum stain already on them.

You gawked at it hungrily, parts of your hair clinging to your face, lips and cheeks wet from your own saliva, head cloudy and dizzy. Charles wrapped his hand around his erection, pumping himself a bit while looking at you. “God, you look so desperate… You want it?” at his words, your eyes met his again, pleading as you nodded, incapable of speaking. “Beg.”

His stern voice was laced with intense and violent lust, his eyes now so different from the ones you knew. He meant every letter of the word, his chest rising and falling with anticipation being proof of that.

“Please,” you started, your voice so quiet one could barely listen to it.

“Louder, baby,” his frame stood over you, ready to pounce at any minute, his tip now touching your entrance teasingly.

“Charles” was all you could say, a mix of shyness and lightheartedness fogging your brain. You bit your lip as he tsked, a small disapproval move of his head as he inserted himself fully inside you without warning.

This sent you into overdrive. His ravenous movements and heavy breath contrasted with your whimpers and inability to move properly, eyes rolled at the back of your head with arousal. You felt full of him and yet you wanted more. More of his hand on your thigh, gripping tightly, more of his other one on your neck, forcing you to look at him.

“I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” Charles said, a smile spreading across his face, enjoyment over your lack of clear thinking. “So fucking stupid you won’t know anything anymore.” Your hands held on to his back, scratching his skin in pleasure.

“And you’ll love it” he continued, knowing you were too far gone to be able to reply with anything but his name, “you’ll like that you’re becoming a dumb little whore.” The hand gripping your neck now tugged at your hair as he asked you to open your mouth.

You complied, feeling your cunt tighten around his cock and tears forming at the corners of your eyes. As you opened, he spat on your tongue, the act so filthy yet so erotic you moaned loudly, eyes wide as you swallowed.

“You love this don’t you?” his eyes stared deeply into yours with amusement and pleasure, his words combined with grunts, sweat forming on his neck. “You act all fucking pretty but you love being fucked like this,” he gripped the top of your dress and pulled it down, revealing your exposed breasts, nipples hard from exhilaration. “What’s my name?” he asked, though you knew what you’d reply either way, words failing you except for that one.

“Char-” you started, but couldn’t continue as he held one of your breasts in his hand, caressing its nipple aggressively. “Can’t even finish the fucking answer” he chuckled, getting off on taunting you.

“I’ll give you an easier one. What’s your name?” he asked again, and though you wanted to reply, you couldn’t, no words left your mouth except for one. “Charles-” you moaned, covering your mouth with your hands due to the sheer loudness of his name in your mouth.

“Wrong, baby,” Charles mocked, revering in the way your were completely lost, at his mercy, his. His mouth crashed against yours once again as his hips moved frantically, his cock slipping in and out of you with ease given how wet you were. You tasted blood on him as you realized he had bitten his own lips a couple of times, an attempt to resist, to stay longer, to delay the ending of the act.

The sound of his skin on yours filled your ears, tears streaming down your face as you suppressed louder sounds from coming out of your mouth. You were so close it was ridiculous, barely any coherent thoughts flashing through your mind, your whole being focused on pleasure only.

“Gonna fill you up the way you deserve it, brainless little brat” his words were more aggressive, more intense, his need to claim you, leave his mark, increasing with every thrust. “You want it don’t you?” he asked, the question so earnest yet so stern, his eyebrows betraying his dominant attitude for just a second. “Say you want it.”

He didn’t have to. You were ready to beg for him, to have your thighs sticky with his warm cum. “I want you to fill me up, Charles” you managed to say, after a couple of failed attempts, to which he replied by moving faster against you, his hand on your clit. “Fuck I’ve wanted to fuck you senseless for so long now” he said, eyes rolling at the back of his head now, words coming out of him slurred and dragged. “You deserve it; always fucking teasing me” he continued, his words sending you over the edge, a feeling of ecstasy flowing through your veins as you came around his cock, cunt pulsing and nails digging deep into his arm.

That was the tipping point for him. He cursed loudly as he moved deeper and deeper inside you, cum spilling out of his cock into you, filling you up. After a couple of seconds, he removed himself from inside you, taking a few steps back to admire the view.

You were flushed out, lips swollen, red pussy dripping with his cum, mascara running down your big eyes. “Fuck” he let out, looking like a mess too. “Who would’ve thought,” he said, smiling to himself, the Charles you were used to coming back slowly, almost like he had been like that the whole time.

“What?” you asked, your senses coming back to you, looking around for a way to clean yourself.

“Miss Smart Ass is a freak” he joked, a smirk on his face, the dimple on his cheek so visible it made him look innocent.

“Says you” was all you could reply.

“You want to turn this into a competition too?” Charles crossed his arms in front of his chest, veiny forearm showing. You couldn't help but stare in admiration.

It was your turn to laugh now, knowing this was a one-time thing. At least for now. “You wish.”

“Maybe I do. You still wanna smoke one?”

[lulujeno]

crush culture — lee jeno ᡣ𐭩

summary : liking jeno was a mistake. kissing him didn't make it any better.

warnings : mentions of alcohol/drinking, kissing, cusswords, angst!! (this does not portray how the idols are irl, all the things here are written to match the song crush culture by conan gray!!)

wc : 6.3k

a/n : reader uses she/her pronouns !! jerk!jeno and bestfriend!mark :D thank u for 100+ followers ~~ cant believe i managed to pull out more than 5k words out of my ass >< my finals are currently happening so that's why i've been ia for soooo long :( i promise when i'm done i'll be clearing out both my drafts and requests ^^

Seeing your best friend, Belle, flirt with Jeno on your couch hit harder than you ever expected. The way they leaned into each other, laughter spilling from their lips like a sweet melody, made your stomach churn in a way that felt foreign and unwelcome. You had no right to feel this way, not when you knew about her crush on him. You had even agreed to be her wingman tonight, setting up this moment so she could finally have her chance. But somehow, along the way, you fell for him too, your heart weaving itself into a tapestry of unspoken feelings and bitter regret.

You should feel happy for her, after all her efforts to catch his attention, but the tight knot in your chest made it impossible to be anything but miserable. “It’s fine. Be happy. It’s your birthday, after all,” you whispered under your breath, trying to convince yourself. The words felt heavy, lacking the enthusiasm they were meant to carry. You exhaled a shaky breath before heading to the kitchen, desperate to escape the sight of them together.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the faint scent of alcohol and fruity punch hanging in the air like an unwelcoming fog. Mark stood by the counter, effortlessly mixing drinks with an ease that told you he’d done this a hundred times before. He glanced up as you entered, and a flicker of concern passed over his face when he caught sight of your downcast expression. He flicked his eyes toward the living room, and you knew he had noticed. Most of your friends knew about your crush on Jeno. It wasn’t something you talked about much, but the way your eyes lingered on him said enough.

“You okay?” Mark asked, his voice low, but the concern was clear, filling the space between you like a fragile glass.

You could only shrug, unsure of how to explain the whirlpool of emotions churning within your chest. It felt too complicated to articulate.

Without a word, he whipped up a drink, something colourful and sweet, and handed it to you. The condensation from the glass cooled your palm, but it did little to soothe the fire raging inside. The drink looked vibrant, but you could already tell it was just a disguise for the hollowness you felt.

“She’s kind of a bitch for doing that in front of you,” Mark muttered, glancing back at the couch, his fingers absentmindedly wiping down the counter. His words hung in the air like a lifebuoy tossed your way, and for a moment, it felt like they were offering you a chance to vent, to express all the things you were holding back. But you shook your head, pushing the thoughts down.

“Not really,” you sighed, taking a sip of the drink. The sweetness coated your tongue, but it tasted like nothing, a mere distraction. “I’m the bitch here. Liking the same guy as my best friend, after she tells me she likes him, that kind of thing breaks girl code.”

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, his confusion evident. “Girl code? Really?” He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “Come on, Belle falls for every guy who looks her way. Everyone knows that. Besides, you actually have a better shot, Jeno knows you, trusts you. You should go for it.”

You nearly choked on your drink, laughter bubbling up despite your mood. “Yeah, and get a reputation for stealing my friends’ crushes? No thanks, Mark. I’ll pass.” You handed him the empty glass, watching as he refilled it, his movements swift and practiced. The glint of the alcohol under the dim kitchen lights reflected how your emotions felt; messy and swirling, a whirlpool threatening to pull you under.

Mark sighed, exasperated. “It’s your party. Don’t let them get in your head. Go have some fun.” He handed you the new drink with a smile, but before you could take another sip, he added, “And don’t drink too much. You can’t handle it, and we both know it.”

But after two glasses, fun was the last thing you felt. The sight of Jeno and Belle still played in your mind, a vivid loop that made the alcohol churn uncomfortably in your stomach. You tried to find Belle in the crowded room, but she was nowhere to be seen. After asking around and realising Jeno wasn’t there either, the pit in your stomach grew deeper. You knew what that probably meant.

You found yourself wandering back to the kitchen, your mind foggy but determined to drown out the ache with another drink. Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised to see you again. When you asked for yet another glass, he sighed deeply, a mixture of concern and frustration in his expression.

“This is your last one,” he warned, handing you the drink reluctantly. “You can’t handle much. I don’t want to have to carry you out of your own party.”

But Mark’s warning felt like a distant echo in your ears. By the time you were begging for a fourth drink, all caution had slipped away, and you couldn’t care less about the consequences. The music in the living room was thumping, laughter echoing like a cruel reminder of your current situation, and all you could feel was the weight of everything you couldn’t have — Jeno, your peace, the ability to not care.

“I already told you, no more drinks. You’re cut off,” Mark said, frustration clear in his voice. “I’ll get you some water instead.”

As he turned to open the fridge, you took your chance. The cold metal of a beer can brushed against your fingertips as you snatched it from the counter. You were so focused on your mission to drown out the pain that you didn’t notice Mark turning back toward you.

“y/n,” he snapped, his tone stern, “let go of the can. You’re going to regret this.”

You raised the can to your lips, but Mark was quicker. His hand reached out to grab it from you, and in the struggle, the can slipped from your grasp. The beer splashed everywhere — over your shirt, dripping down your arms, and pooling on the floor. The cold liquid seeped through your clothes, clinging to your skin, making you gasp at the sudden chill. Mark groaned, grabbing a napkin from the counter as you stood there, drenched, with a look of defiance still written across your face.

Undeterred, you tried to tilt the can toward your mouth, desperate to drink whatever was left inside, despite the mess. “Come on, y/n, you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” Mark sighed, exasperation laced in his tone as he managed to pry the can away for good this time.

The alcohol-soaked shirt clung to your body, the sticky sensation uncomfortable, but you were too far gone to care. The frustration bubbling inside wasn’t going to be soothed by just a drink anymore. You were angry, angry at Belle, at Jeno, at the fact that you had let yourself feel anything at all.

Before you could make another move, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, prying you away from the counter. You froze, looking up into the familiar dark eyes you’d been avoiding all night — Jeno.

The world felt like it stopped as Jeno glanced from you to Mark, his brows furrowed in mild concern. “Help me out here, Jen. She’s had too much already, and she won’t listen to me,” Mark said, his voice weary but relieved that someone else could take over.

Jeno’s gaze softened as he looked down at your soaked shirt, a mixture of amusement and concern crossing his face. He let out a small sigh, his grip gentle but firm as he took the can from your hand and replaced it with a bottle of water. “You’re done with the drinks for tonight, okay?” he said softly, his voice holding the same care you’d heard earlier.

Before you could protest, Jeno wrapped his arm around you, guiding you out of the kitchen, away from the noise and the eyes of your curious friends. The walk to your room was a blur, but the warmth of his hand on your waist kept you grounded, even as the alcohol swirled in your system.

The sight of Belle sobbing into someone’s shoulder as you passed through the hallway barely registered in your hazy mind. You were too focused on the warmth of Jeno’s presence beside you, the way his touch lingered longer than necessary, as if he was anchoring you.

Once in your room, Jeno gently guided you to sit on the edge of your bed, his touch careful as if he was afraid you might fall over. His eyes roamed over your beer-soaked clothes, a soft chuckle escaping him. “You’re a mess,” he teased, though his voice held no judgment. If anything, it was laced with concern, the kind of worry that felt warm and comforting instead of scolding.

You glanced down at yourself, wincing as you finally took in the state of your shirt. The beer stains were obvious now, dark patches clinging to the fabric and sticking to your skin in an uncomfortable way. You grimaced, the sticky sensation making you feel even more self-conscious. The alcohol had dulled the sharpness of your embarrassment, but not entirely. A faint blush crept up your cheeks as you mumbled, “I should change…”

You attempted to push yourself off the bed, but your limbs were heavy, sluggish from the alcohol coursing through your system. Your balance wavered, and you nearly stumbled forward before Jeno’s hand gently pressed on your shoulder, keeping you steady.

Without saying a word, he crossed the room to your closet, rummaging through the clothes until he found one of your oversized t-shirts. He walked back to you with that same quiet focus, kneeling down to your level, holding the clean shirt in his hands. His gaze met yours for a moment, and something in his expression made your heart skip a beat.

“Here,” Jeno said softly, his voice just above a whisper. “Let me help.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers reached for the hem of your beer-stained shirt. He moved slowly, giving you plenty of time to object, to stop him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The closeness of him, the way his eyes held nothing but tenderness. It was like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this charged, intimate bubble.

Jeno’s hands were careful as he lifted the fabric, peeling it away from your sticky skin with a precision that made your pulse quicken. The cool air hit you, contrasting the warmth of his touch. Every time his fingers brushed your arms, it sent shivers through you. It wasn’t overtly intimate, but the care he took in making sure you were comfortable made the moment feel far more meaningful than it should have.

Once your shirt was off, he handed you the fresh one, his eyes deliberately focused anywhere but your body, giving you the privacy to finish. You quickly pulled the oversized shirt over your head, feeling the soft cotton fabric glide down. Your cheeks burned, not from the alcohol, but from the way Jeno’s thoughtfulness had disarmed you, leaving your heart racing in its wake.

When you were finally settled in your clean shirt, Jeno took a step back, his hands awkwardly fumbling at his sides, unsure of what to do next. “Better?” he asked, his voice quiet but sincere.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The warmth pooling in your chest wasn’t just from the remnants of alcohol, but from the way Jeno had cared for you, so gentle and attentive. The kindness in his actions made your emotions swirl even more intensely.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you heavy with something unspoken. The room felt smaller with Jeno in it, the atmosphere charged with a new kind of tension. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. If anything, it felt safe. Like he was there to make sure you were okay, to take care of you, in a way that made your heart feel lighter despite the whirlwind of the night.

Jeno’s eyes flicked from the bed to you, a soft concern still lacing his gaze. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long night.”

You climbed under the covers, feeling the exhaustion settling into your bones now that the noise of the party was long behind you. As you laid down, Jeno lingered by your side for a moment, his hand briefly brushing your shoulder before he moved to sit at your desk. His presence filled the room, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Jeno?” your voice came out as a soft murmur, barely loud enough to reach him, but he turned to you right away.

“Yeah?”

You hesitated for a moment before whispering, “Thanks… for everything.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, the soft light in your room making his features look even kinder than usual. “Get some sleep, y/n. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to process what was happening. Jeno was in your room. The Jeno. The one who was always surrounded by friends, admired by so many. The same Jeno your best friend had been talking about for months, and the one you, slowly but surely, had found yourself falling for.

The alcohol still buzzed in your veins, loosening your inhibitions just enough to make you bolder than usual. This was your chance, maybe Mark had been right all along. Jeno was here, with you, taking care of you in ways that felt like more than just friendly concern. Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t imagining the way he stayed close tonight, the way his eyes lingered a little longer.

It was now or never.

The air in the room felt heavy, thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Jeno sat at your desk, his steady gaze unreadable as you shifted under the covers, a mix of nervousness and warmth blooming in your chest. The alcohol had numbed your inhibitions, but the electricity between you both was impossible to ignore.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to ground yourself in the fabric, though it did little to help. “It’s cold,” you mumbled, barely audible, your voice betraying the hint of vulnerability you didn’t want to show. In truth, the room was a bit chilly, but more than anything, you longed for his presence next to you. The space between you felt far too wide, like an unspoken barrier you didn’t know how to cross without risking everything.

Jeno’s eyes flickered toward you, his hesitation lingering in the silence that stretched between you. After a beat, he stood up from the desk, his movements slow and deliberate, as if carefully weighing each step. Your breath hitched as he approached, and your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation curling in your stomach.

Wordlessly, Jeno slid under the covers beside you, his warmth instantly chasing away the cold. His scent, a comforting mix of cologne and something undeniably him, wrapped around you, making your head spin. Instinctively, you leaned into him, your head finding its place against his chest. His arm moved naturally around you, pulling you closer, and you melted into the embrace, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek.

With Jeno’s warmth cocooning you, the outside world felt like a distant dream. The party’s once-loud music had faded into a faint murmur, barely audible over the sound of his steady breathing. Every now and then, his breath grazed your hair, sending tiny shivers down your spine. You stayed perfectly still, afraid that even the slightest movement would break this fragile moment, this perfect stillness.

“Is it still cold?” Jeno’s voice was low, a gentle murmur that seemed to sink into your very bones.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you pressed yourself closer to him, allowing the exhaustion of the night to wash over you. “Not anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. His arm tightened around you in response, as if silently saying that he wasn’t going anywhere. That, even just for tonight, you had him.

The soft light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room, its dim shadows creating a cozy, intimate space that felt removed from reality. The world beyond your bedroom door seemed to slow, leaving only the two of you in this quiet bubble, suspended in time. You found yourself wishing that you could capture this feeling forever, keep this warmth and peace bottled up in your heart.

Jeno’s hand rested on your waist, his fingers moving in slow, absentminded circles over the fabric of your shirt. His touch was so gentle, so careful, that it sent little sparks dancing across your skin. It wasn’t just the alcohol making you dizzy; it was the tenderness in every brush of his fingers, the way he held you like you were something delicate.

“You’re always running around, taking care of everyone,” he murmured softly, his words carrying a weight that tugged at your heart. “Who takes care of you, y/n?”

His question hung in the air, the raw sincerity in his voice cutting through you. A lump formed in your throat, and you blinked rapidly to keep the sudden tears at bay. You hadn’t expected him to say something like that. Who did take care of you? For as long as you could remember, you were the one who held everything together, the one who put everyone else’s needs before your own. But in this moment, with Jeno’s arms wrapped around you, it felt like someone was finally seeing past all of that—seeing you.

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you admitted the truth aloud. “I guess I’m just used to it.”

Jeno shifted beside you, his body pressing closer, his breath now warm against your ear. “You deserve more than that,” he said softly, his voice low and earnest, each word landing like a promise. “You deserve someone who’ll take care of you, too.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you swallowed hard, trying to hold back the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. His words felt too good, too perfect, and a part of you was afraid to believe them. Afraid to believe that someone like Jeno could really see you like that, could want to take care of you.

Still, in this moment, wrapped in his warmth, you allowed yourself to pretend — to imagine, if only for tonight, that this could be your reality. That Jeno could be yours.

His thumb traced another slow circle on your side, his touch so gentle it was almost hypnotic. “I don’t want you to forget tonight,” he whispered, his voice even quieter now, like he was sharing a secret meant just for you.

You turned in his arms, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes locked with his. There was something in his gaze, something soft and unspoken, that made your heart race. His face was inches from yours, his breath warm on your skin, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stop altogether.

You swallowed, the words escaping you before you could think twice. “What if I do?”

For a moment, Jeno’s expression darkened, his gaze flicking down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. Then, in a movement so gentle it felt like a dream, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The contact sent a shiver through you, your whole body reacting to the warmth of his touch.

“Then I’ll remind you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper.

The night blurred into a series of quiet moments. Soft touches, shared whispers, and a closeness that felt too tender, too fragile to belong to the real world. You could have stayed in that moment forever, tangled in Jeno’s warmth, pretending that the world outside didn’t exist.

But, as always, reality had a way of creeping back in.

Jeno’s phone buzzed on the desk beside him, the soft vibrations shattering the stillness. He sighed, his arm loosening from around you as he reached for the phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his face. You watched as his brows furrowed, his expression tense as he scrolled through the dozens of missed calls and messages.

“Shit,” he muttered, sitting up, his warmth slipping away from you entirely.

The cold rushed in immediately, filling the space where Jeno had been, and your heart sank. You knew what was coming next.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, already knowing the answer but dreading hearing it aloud.

Jeno ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. “The guys… They’ve been calling me nonstop. I told them I’d leave with them, they’re my only ride home.” His voice was tinged with regret, but beneath it, you could sense the guilt.

You forced a smile, trying to mask the disappointment that was tightening in your chest. “It’s fine,” you lied, propping yourself up on your elbow. “You should go.”

Jeno glanced down at his phone again, then back at you, his jaw tightening as he hesitated. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said quietly, his voice thick with the conflict swirling inside him.

You shook your head, the ache in your chest growing. “I’ll be okay,” you whispered, your words feeling hollow. “Really. Go.”

For a fleeting moment, you held onto the hope that Jeno might stay. The way he looked at you, his eyes searching your face with an intensity that made your heart race, felt like a promise unspoken. But then the phone buzzed again, shattering the delicate moment. You watched as his resolve shifted, the warmth in his gaze giving way to a distant sadness.

With a heavy sigh, he rose from the bed, the fabric of the moment tearing slightly as he slipped his phone into his pocket. The air around you felt colder, thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions, as if the very room held its breath. Just before he reached the door, he hesitated, turning back to you one last time. His eyes softened as they met yours, and he stepped back toward the bed, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. It was soft and lingering, yet it carried the weight of finality.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he whispered, his breath brushing against your skin, leaving a warmth that contrasted the chill that enveloped you after he left.

And then, he was gone.

The weekend stretched endlessly, an expanse of silence that felt like an aching void where his presence had been. No calls. No texts. Just the stark absence of his warmth and the echo of the night you had shared. With each passing hour, the memory of Jeno’s embrace faded, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and an unsettling sense of regret.

You spent the next two days trapped in a loop of memories, replaying every moment over and over. The way he looked at you with such intensity, the way he held you close, the sincerity in his voice when he told you that you deserved better. You ached to reach out to him, to check if he still remembered the fleeting magic of that night. But every time you reached for your phone, a wave of fear stopped you cold. The thought of his response, what he might say or, worse, what he might not say, paralyzed you.

By the time Monday rolled around, you had convinced yourself that maybe it was better this way. Pretending nothing had happened would be the safest path. After all, he would slip back into his life with friends, back to the way things were before, and you would have to bear the weight of your choices alone.

As you stepped through the school doors, you immediately felt the weight of stares bearing down on you. Whispers trailed you down the hall like a shadow, and you quickly pieced together the rumors that had spread like wildfire. Word had gotten out about you and Jeno, and Belle had undoubtedly heard every detail.

It wasn’t long before she found you. Standing by your locker, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, her glare twisted your stomach into knots.

“I can’t believe you, Y/N,” Belle hissed, her voice sharp and full of venom. “You promised me you’d be there for me. You said you’d help me with Jeno, and instead, you—” She cut herself off, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.

You swallowed hard, guilt and shame coiling tightly in your chest. “Belle, I—”

“No,” she interrupted, her eyes flashing with hurt. “Don’t. Don’t act like you didn’t know. Everyone’s talking about how you left the party together. You think I didn’t see the way he looks at you?”

Your heart plummeted, a heavy weight in your stomach. You longed to explain, to articulate that it hadn’t been what it looked like, that you hadn’t intended for any of it to happen. But deep down, you knew the truth: you had crossed a line, and no amount of explanation would erase the breach of trust.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“It’s not fair. I was so close to having him, Y/N. I was right there, and then you had to ruin it for me.” Belle’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her expression hardened like ice. “You’re a liar. You promised to help,” she spat coldly, turning away from you. “You’re no better than the rest of them. Maybe you should’ve tried harder not to ruin everything.”

And just like that, she walked away, leaving you with the sharp sting of her betrayal echoing in the silence behind her.

You stood there, frozen, as the world around you faded into a blurry haze of whispers and judgmental stares. The hallway stretched out longer than usual, each step feeling like an uphill battle against the suffocating air thick with unspoken words. You could almost see the rumours swirling like storm clouds, brewing around you as classmates shot knowing glances. Some gleeful, others disdainful, while they whispered behind your back, oblivious to the truth.

You made it through the day by shrinking into yourself, avoiding everyone as if they were fragments of glass waiting to cut you. Each laugh from a group nearby felt like a mockery, reminding you of how the moments you shared with Jeno now felt like scattered shards, impossible to clean up without inflicting wounds on your heart. Every time you caught a glimpse of him in the halls, your chest tightened as his eyes flicked toward you for just a fleeting second before looking away, as if that one shared night had evaporated into thin air. Maybe it had for him.

The days following that night passed under a strange, silent agreement between you and Jeno. Neither of you acknowledged what had happened. No messages. No lingering glances. No awkward conversations. It was as if you had both silently decided that pretending it hadn’t meant anything was the easiest way to cope. But you couldn't shake the feeling that, to him, it truly hadn’t.

At school, Jeno slipped seamlessly back into the rhythm of his life, surrounded by his friends, laughter pouring from their mouths as if nothing had changed. He blended effortlessly into the crowd of popular kids, exuding an air of confidence that was painfully absent in you. Later, you overheard snippets of their conversations, casual, dismissive remarks. “She’s not worth it, man. You could do way better,” Haechan chuckled, as if your very existence was a punchline. Jeno merely shrugged, his indifference cutting deeper than any blade. “It was nothing.”

The words pierced through your carefully constructed defences, more painful than you could have anticipated. They shouldn’t have stung; after all, you had spent the entire weekend convincing yourself that you didn’t care, that it was just a fleeting moment. But those three words echoed in your mind, a relentless mantra: It was nothing.

Still, you played your part. Whenever you passed him in the halls or found yourself near his group during lunch, you donned a mask of indifference so convincingly that you almost started to believe it yourself. You laughed with your other friends, pretended to focus in class, and convinced yourself that forgetting was the best option. You were adept at pretending, had to be, but that night continued to linger, haunting you like a bittersweet melody you couldn't silence.

The only person who seemed to peel back your façade was Mark. You never spoke about that night directly, but he could read between the lines. He noticed the way your gaze avoided Jeno, how your laughter felt forced, and how your smile no longer reached your eyes.

One afternoon, when the weight of everything felt too heavy to bear, you found yourself gravitating toward Mark. He sat on the grass at the edge of the soccer field, scribbling furiously in his notebook. You dropped down beside him, the warmth of the sun contrasting with the cold ache in your chest. He looked up, brow raised, but he didn’t say anything right away, giving you space to breathe.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” you finally admitted, staring into the distance as the horizon blurred with your emotions.

Mark closed his notebook, shifting his full attention to you. “Want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling inside you. “Not really. Just… everything’s a mess.”

He didn’t press you, but his unwavering gaze bore into you, his concern palpable. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I can tell you’re not okay.”

The tightness in your chest intensified at his words, and you forced a laugh that felt hollow. “It’s not a big deal. I barely even remember that night, anyway.”

Mark didn’t buy it. He never did. “You don’t have to lie to me. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay too.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with all the unsaid things that hung heavy in the air. You stared at the ground, fighting the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Jeno didn’t say anything, did he?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could hold it back.

Mark sighed, leaning back on his hands. “He’s pretending it never happened, too. His friends… Well, they’re being assholes, like always. Told him he could do better. You know how they are.”

You nodded, the weight of disappointment sinking deeper into your bones. Of course they would say that. Of course Jeno would follow their lead. It was easier to dismiss the connection you had shared, to act like you hadn’t been wrapped up in each other, sharing warmth and vulnerability in a way that felt almost sacred.

Sensing your shift in mood, Mark nudged your shoulder lightly, offering a small smile. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend to understand what’s going on in Jeno’s head. But you deserve better than this, better than being some secret he feels like he has to hide.”

His words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, yet they only amplified the ache in your heart. You wished it didn’t hurt so much, wished you could just move on like Jeno seemed to. But the truth was, that night had meant something to you. Even if you shouldn’t have felt that way, even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise, it did.

It wasn’t just the gossip or the whispers that hurt; it was the entire situation. The reality that you had gotten swept up in something so fleeting, yet so consuming. You felt like you were living on a stage, where every move was scrutinised, turned into something larger than life. Belle, Jeno, his friends; they were all part of that act, and now, so were you. You thought back to the party, to the fragile intimacy you had shared with Jeno, the way you had intertwined your lives for a moment. But the harsh reality was that it hadn’t been real. Not for him.

When you got home, you collapsed onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling, its familiar texture suddenly feeling foreign and oppressive. The quiet of your room suffocated you, amplifying the echoes of whispers and judgment that had followed you all day. It should have been a relief to escape the chaos, but instead, it was a stark reminder of how alone you felt. Gone were the masks and the laughter; all that remained was the haunting silence, thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

Your phone buzzed, and for a fleeting moment, hope flickered inside you. Maybe it was Jeno, maybe he finally had something to say, something that could bridge the chasm that had formed between you two. But as you glanced down, the screen illuminated a message from Mark instead.

Mark: How you holding up?

You stared at the words, the glow of the screen casting a pale light over your uncertainty. Mark had always been the one to see beyond your carefully constructed façade, the only person who didn’t press for answers you weren’t ready to give. His concern was palpable even through the digital barrier, but the weight of your own feelings made it hard to respond.

You: I don’t know.

The reply felt painfully inadequate, a thin veil over the storm churning inside you. You tossed your phone aside, pulling your knees up to your chest, as if trying to protect your heart from the world outside. What did you even want at this point? Jeno wasn’t coming back to fix things, and Belle was probably rehearsing her next round of accusations. You felt caught in a strange, uncomfortable limbo, yearning to forget while being unable to erase the vivid memories of that night.

In the days that followed, you had tried to convince yourself the night with Jeno was nothing more than a fleeting mistake, a moment spurred by alcohol and the warmth of the moment. But now, as the realization washed over you, it became painfully clear: you had wanted it to mean something more. You craved the way he looked at you that night—not with the haze of drunken affection, but with something deeper, something that could fill the void you felt inside.

But he didn’t. He never would.

You remained motionless on your bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, feeling the silence stretch around you like a shroud. Your phone buzzed again, probably Mark checking in, but you couldn’t muster the energy to respond. The weight of your decisions pressed heavily on your chest, reminding you of the loss that had settled in your heart.

You had lost your best friend, sacrificed your bond with Belle for something ephemeral, and now, you were left to pick up the pieces alone. And maybe that was what hurt the most. The realization that in the end, none of it had felt real. Not the intimate moments shared with Jeno, not the friendship you had thought you could count on with Belle. Everything felt built on a shaky foundation, fragile and destined to crumble.

As you lay there, you reached for your phone, hoping to drown out the noise in your head with music. You scrolled through your playlist, searching for anything that could take you away from this moment. And then it started, the familiar notes of Crush Culture by Conan Gray filled the room, wrapping around you like a bittersweet embrace.

With each lyric, you felt a rush of recognition that hit you like a truck. Crush culture makes me wanna spill my guts out. The words resonated deeply, echoing the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. It was as if Conan had taken the scattered pieces of your heart and crafted them into a song, pulling at the very strings of your soul.

The lines about fleeting moments, unreciprocated feelings, and the pain of wanting something that was never truly yours surged through you. You closed your eyes, allowing the music to wash over you, each note igniting memories of that night with Jeno. The way he held you, the laughter you shared, the promises whispered in the dark. But with each line, the weight of reality crashed down harder, reminding you of the distance that had grown between you since then.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the catharsis almost overwhelming as the song played on. You could feel every word burrowing into your heart, every melody capturing the longing you tried to hide. This wasn’t just about Jeno; it was about everything you had lost, everything you had poured into moments that turned out to be nothing but illusions.

And in that moment, you felt a fragile clarity. You might be lost now, but you wouldn’t stay that way forever. The lyrics continued to echo around you, each syllable a promise that you would find a way through the pain, that you could reclaim your voice, your heart, and maybe, just maybe, discover what it meant to feel whole again.

As the song faded into silence, you lay back against your pillows, allowing the tears to flow freely. It was time to face the truth, to embrace the chaos of your emotions, and to start piecing together a new beginning. And with that thought, you closed your eyes, a flicker of hope igniting within you. A hope that lingered long after the last notes faded away.

[citrustan]

dating girl (jjk)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you try to convince yourself that you're really okay with 'casually dating' your crush.

genre: college au, fwb kinda thing but more than friends ygm? angst!

"Are they allowed to cancel an entire day at college? That can't be good for anyone..." Your mother ponders out loud as you walk around the city hand-in-hand.

"There's not much you can do if someone decides to paint over every projector lens on campus." You nod.

"Lucky for me, I get to spend time with my little baby," she nuzzles her nose into your hair, squeezing you in a side-hug, "Still can't believe we have to schedule our hangouts now."

"Yeah, there's that..." You smile half-heartedly.

You stop near a flower stall, taking in the hustle and bustle of the city. It's especially crowded because of your university abruptly cancelling a bunch of classes.

After your day had freed up unexpectedly, you had invited your sorta but not really boyfriend, Jungkook, to go cafe hopping to find where all the good teas are because you knew he'd be available. But he never responded.

So your mood has been a bit damp all day.

You had just stepped out of this store that sold handmade sweaters and yarn balls. Not even a good shopping spree could lift your spirits.

What certainly doesn't help is randomly seeing said sorta but not really boyfriend who didn't respond to your texts out and about with some leggy blonde girl.

You've never seen her around.

Not that you know every single person on campus, but if they've crossed Jungkook's path, you know them.

They're dining together al fresco, at one of the cafes you had literally listed in your text to Jungkook.

Talk about a slap in your face.

For a second, you think she might just be his sister or something.

But that thought bubble is quickly shot at with a razor-sharp arrow when you see him kiss her knuckles.

Your eyes involuntary darken, and your mouth forms a pout. The kind one has when they're trying to hold back a cry or a sob.

All the while, your mother had talked about your grandparents' separation, the local diner having caught fire, and matching mother and daughter shoes she had bought for your birthday.

You were listening passively so you didn't quite catch everything.

When your mother notices the look on your face, she frowns, following the line of your vision.

Upon spotting Jungkook and mystery girl, she gasps angrily, "Oh, no, he sucks." She turns back to you, "Honey, I'm so sorry."

"No, mom, this is normal," you smile weakly, "And it's okay."

"You're still seeing him, aren't you?" She tilted her head in confusion.

"Yes." You nod, "I am."

"But then he's there," she points at the pair with her chin, "seeing her. How's that okay?"

"It just is, mom! Really," you attempt to convince your mother (and yourself) that you were 100% fine with witnessing Jungkook out with other women. "We're keeping things casual. Very... casual."

"And that's a mutual decision?" She confirms.

"We both agreed." You concur.

Your mother's still unsure about your choices. "Well. Okay then."

You glance at Jungkook and mystery girl one last time.

The picture isn't pretty. He's leaning into her ear and has his large hand placed over her bare thigh as she caressed his arm with her much smaller hand, thoroughly enjoying his attention.

Your mother watches your expression go stiff, "So, how does this work again?"

Snapping you out of your daze, she pushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes.

"Oh. Um..." You exhale, "Well, we see each other and we see other people, and that's that. We're cas-" - "Yeah, casual, I heard." Your mother interrupts your blabber.

When you frown at her she sighs, "Sorry..."

"It's ok." You look down at your feet, kicking a few stray pebbles out of the way.

"I just--- I thought you guys were sleeping together." She blurts.

"Mom!" You exclaim, looking around to see if anyone had heard her, "It's not that big of a deal. I want this too. And I need to learn to date too."

Again, you try to ease your mind about your decision.

"So who else are you dating?" She asks pointedly.

This is suddenly getting very exhausting.

You lightly cringe and look around, "Uh... Nobody yet. But this guy from one of my extras--- his name's Hoseok but we call him Hobi, or Hoba, depending on how close you are to him--- anyway, he asked me out to a halloween theme party next week."

Your mother gives you a knowing look, deciding to play along anyway, "Oh! You've never mentioned him before."

"Mhm. Because it's new." You hunch your shoulders nervously.

The party was hosted by the student body to raise funds for, you don't know, collegiate stuff.

You had imagined going with Jungkook, with matching Dentist and Tooth Fairy couple costumes. But he hadn't asked you yet and you definitely weren't going to bring it up first.

It's less than a week away, so you're not expecting anything from him either. He probably already has another date lined up.

You wonder if it's the blonde he's with now.

Maybe you can do the look with Hoseok instead.

"So, are you gonna do it?"

"Do what?" Was she in your head?

"Go with Hobi or Hoba." She makes air quotations for 'Hobi or Hoba.'

"Oh, yeah. Yep. Definitely." Suddenly remembering, you add, "Oh and can you make me my costume? I want to be the Tooth Fairy?" You softly ask her, knowing it's a little last minute, but also knowing she wouldn't deny you.

"Why of course! Does... Hobi need a costume too?" She asks carefully.

"Oh, no. Probably not." Well, you don't know. You don't know if his offer even stands now and you might end up not going at all.

Your mother rubs your shoulder, "Ask him and let me know, 'kay?"

You force out an uncomfortable smile and nod, "Thanks."

Although your mother's not convinced, she decides to drop the topic all together.

"Well, that's good," she smiles down at you warmly, "Do you want to get that sweater exchanged?"

It was vague, but you appreciated her attempt either way.

"Mhm. Back to the store we go." You narrate with an airy laugh.

Your mother was in the lead, already making her way to the store you had just walked out of.

Once again, your gaze falls on Jungkook and his date, and to your surprise he was staring right back at you.

You want to give him a little smile. To show him you're unbothered. But you couldn't seem to force one out this time.

So you settle with giving him a small wave, which he returns, mirroring your expression.

His date follows his line of sight and spots you too, giving you a tight smile. It's not passive aggressive, just... decent. Not polite either. But why should she be?

Jungkook blinks at you as you hurriedly leave trying to keep up with your mother.

Maybe you should focus on Hoseok for now.

here's the next installment: dating girl (jjk) #2.1

note: nobody asked for this but i was feeling a little silly :p needed some angsty ouchie with the possibility of a favourable conclusion so i indulged!

hey bonus points if you can tell what inspired this! and if you read all this lmk what you think regardless :D

[n0tamused]

⋆.˚ ★—University AU!Anaxa x Reader

Content: a collection of modern au headcanons for Anaxa, some voicelines at the end, sfw, GN reader, yapping Words: 737

Masterlist ✦ Rules ✦ Ko-Fi

-Anaxa is a biochemistry major, he's simultaneously going to two universities actually. First one, his major, is in the morning hours while the second on is in the evening hours and the schedule for that one is much more relaxed. It's a miracle how well his schedules worked out. But that being said, catching Anaxa alone and while he is not busy is a rare event. He comes home and it is straight to his business again, studying, researching and reading some more like the nerd he is. Staying busy is what keeps him calm, which some find mind boggling

 -He isn't a morning person even if his uni has always started early, he never got used to it. He hates waking up so early and downs coffee down like it is water. He's not proud of it but he makes shit tasting coffee because he's simply not in the mood to spend too much time thinking about it so early...so if you happen to wake up around the same time as him or earlier and make him coffee?? Immediate brownie points that he saves up for later, but he also gives you a big kiss before he departs for class

 -Anaxa never misses a class he's interested in, and in general he is the type of person to always be there. Class starts at 6:00 am? He’s there before anyone else, somehow. There are one or two classes that he dreads to go to since he deems them worthless and not up to par with the modern advancement in technology and biology, but they're necessary so he drags himself to those too- although...you have a good chance of talking him into going to get a meal or a drink with you instead of going to those classes. This guy is just looking for an excuse and god knows he could use a good meal

-Anaxa has a reputation for debating professors or simply talking to them the entire duration of the class, which is both good and bad. It is something that landed him on the uni's debate team. He is quite snappy but it is hard to refute his arguments... 

-Has a pet bird that his sister gifted him and he loves that little bird lots. Named her something stupid though but endearing like Ribbit or something

-Anaxa doesn't let anyone inside his office room in his home, not that he really has anyone over nearly as much, but still. It stands that the office room is his room, his space, and no one else's. It did take a while for him to get warmed up to you but once he did he began inviting you inside, and slowly you began to just hangout in his office without him asking and he was 100% fine with it. He loves your company, even if you may not be engaged in an active conversation or interaction in general

-It goes without saying that Anaxa only indulges in physical touch with you, cuddling with you with a good book in hand or simply closing his eyes while listening to your heartbeat while he dozes off for a little while

-He doesn't dress that fancy around you, which is a sign of comfort. He doesn't like when anyone else sees him "underdressed". But you see him in the most absurdly casual clothes around the house. I'm talking stuff like pink slippers + shorts + beanie hat + sweatshirt. Does the fit make sense? It does to him. It's comfy to him. Don't question the genius

⋆.˚ ★—Voice lines

-"Beloved...why have you gotten out of bed so early? Hm? Mhm..." (He then gets up to spend the morning with you before you leave, regardless if he needs to be anywhere that early himself)

-"Such a matter could not have been in your control. Do not bash yourself over it, it is useless. What you should look forward to is this opportunity.. No, no, it is quite expected to feel lost. But remember, I'm here"

-"Come here... What? Yes, I'm calling you in for a hug. Don't make it a waste"

-"Here.. I've made us some tea. This blend will help your body relax. And while the tea takes its effect on your physical body, you and I can work on unraveling these knots and twists your mind has been pulled into"

-"No rush. This sort of thing takes time, breathe.."

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.