rafeandonlyrafe · 2 days ago
Text
normal procedure
Tumblr media
words: 2.1k
warnings: 18+ only!!, dubcon, gynecologist!rafe, patient!reader, virgin!reader, gyno exam, fingering, p in v sex, protected sex
a/n: we can pretend that this is a roleplay scenario because obviously no real doctor would do this, lets all take a breath and remember this is fanFICTION aka not real or an endorsement by me (or my readers) of anything in this story
“oh, um-” you gulp, blinking as the fluorescent lights shine down on you.
“your feet ma’am.” he repeats, tapping the stirrups. you lift your legs, well aware that you're lacking any sort of underwear underneath your hospital gown.
your doctor secures your legs in the straps before his eyes drift to your center, now on display with your parted thighs.
you gasp and pull your gown down to somewhat cover yourself.
“ma’am, i assure you this is all part of the normal exam.”
“i-i-” you swallow thickly, blinking again, swearing the lights are only getting brighter, hotter, as a bead of sweat forms and falls on your forehead. “what's your name?”
“im doctor rafe cameron. certified gynecologist. you can just call me rafe though.” he explains softly. “and there is no need to be nervous.”
“okay… how long have you been a gynecologist?”
“asking all these questions is just going to delay what we need to get done.” rafe says. “shall we begin?”
“i suppose.” you nod. you know usually girls wait until after they have sex for the first time to visit, but with your twenty first birthday coming up as still a virgin, you decided you might as well stop delaying the inevitable.
“im just going to lift your gown.” rafes hands are slow and gentle as he brings the hem up, revealing your bare cunt to him.
“does it all… look okay?” you question. 
“you look perfect.” rafe says, his voice lowering in tone as he reaches for his gloves, pulling the latex over his long, slender fingers.
“okay.” you nod. surely a doctor would know. it lessens your anxiety the tiniest bit.
“im going to touch you now, okay?” rafe looks up at you, and his eye contact holds you still, blue eyes gleaming with intensity as they look into your brown ones.
“y/f/n?” 
“oh, yes.” you nod quickly. “yes, that's fine.”
rafe hums, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. “so if i read your chart correctly, you haven't had sex yet?”
“no, s-sir.” you shake your head, eyes moving to the ceiling to avoid that captivating gaze, even if the fluorescents make your eyes hurt.
rafe mutters something under his breath, but you're sure your ears are just playing tricks on you. no way he would whisper “perfect” to himself. surely he's a professional.
rafe lays two fingers on your inner thigh and your entire body jolts, the gloves cold against your bare skin.
“it's okay.” rafes other hand rests on your thigh, rubbing gently with his thumb. “im going to begin the exam, if you feel any discomfort at any point just tell me.”
“okay.” you nod, and you swear despite the chilly gloves, his touch leaves a trail of fire as he brings his two fingers closer to your pussy, before suddenly swiping through your folds.
“oh!” you squeal out, hips lifting slightly before pushing back down.
“it's a normal bodily reaction.” rafe assures you before you can even feel embarrassment.
rafes fingers swipe through again, but at least you're expecting it this time. you blink quickly, trying to keep yourself calm as his other hand moves to join in examining your cunt.
“just going to use my thumbs to look around. let me know if it gets to be too much.”
just as rafe said, his thumbs begin to pull and poke at your skin. you move your gaze from the ceiling back down to rafe, seeing the same intensity in his eyes but now focused on your pussy.
“im going to touch you some place that may make you feel… fervent. please know that any reaction your body may have is normal and all part of the exam.” rafe places his thumb directly over your bud, and your body lights up like a firework.
you don't even realize you're moaning until the side of rafes mouth quirks up again into that signature smirk.
“oh!” you squeal again. “oh my god, im so sorry.”
“it's all normal.” rafe assures you. he gives you a moment to get used to the pressure on your clit, simply touching it with the pad of his thumb before he begins to swipe over it, stimulating your clit while his eyes move back and forth between your pussy and your face contorted in pleasure.
“is this supposed to feel so good?” you question. you didn't do much research on what actually happens when you get in the gynecologists chair, but you swear what you've heard from friends is that the exam isn't comfortable.
“yes.” rafe says simply, and you have no reason to not take his word as truth. “my thumb is going to stay there as i insert a finger.”
you nod, glad to have the distraction of his thumb moving around your clit, even if your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you grow wetter.
“hm, looks like i won't need any external lubricant.” rafe looks up at you. “sometimes i have to with virgins. but your pussy is perfect.”
“thank you?” your thought process is quickly shut off as rafes finger prods at your entrance, getting his gloves significantly wet.
“sorry if this is cold, but i have a feeling you'll warm me up quickly.” rafe pushes his finger inside slowly, and you have to tilt your head back and squeeze your eyes closed to keep more sounds from coming out of your mouth.
“does it all feel normal?” you're well aware at your voice must sound strained as rafes finger rubs against your inner walls.
“yes.” rafe says, this time his voice having an air of shakiness to it. “you're tight, but it's to be expected from a virgin.”
“s-sorry about that.” you can't tell if rafes emphasis on the word is negative or positive. “i didn't see myself losing it anytime soon so i scheduled my appointment.”
“and why is that darling?” rafe questions, his voice a purr as he begins to move his finger in and out in slow strokes.
“why am i a virgin? uhh…” you trail off. “i guess just haven't found the right guy yet.”
in truth, the whole idea of sex gets you nervous. hopefully after getting assurances that everything works okay down there, it'll be one less thing to be anxious about.
“we can take care of that today if you'd like.”
the thumb stroking over your clit flicks upward suddenly, making your hips jump up, legs straining in their spread position.
“what do you mean?” you ask, feeling and hearing rafes finger speed up, your slickness making it easier and easier for him to move.
“i can take your virginity. it's part of my duties as your doctor. only if you'd like, it's an optional part of the exam.”
“you mean like… insert something in me?”
“yes, my cock.” rafe smirks as he pulls his finger out, tapping against your wetness and letting the sound spread through the exam room.
“oh!” you look at rafe to make sure he's serious, but his expression doesn't convey any sort of joking around. “gynecologists do that?”
“for our virgin patients if they'd like. id wear a condom of course and take your virginity so it's less of an ordeal for you. and i can assure everything is working fine.”
“and by everything you mean…”
“making you cum.” rafes thumb applies a bit more pressure to your clit. “although you're already not far off, are you?”
“wouldn't know.” you can feel something growing in the pit of your stomach, an unfamiliar feeling you can't quite place.
“what do you say y/f/n?”
“s-sure.” you nod. “if this is all normal, i guess it's fine.”
“great.” rafe smiles, before looking down at your cunt. “ill have to work two fingers into you before fu- helping you lose your virginity.” he explains.
thankfully, his thumb keeps tapping and pressing down on your sensitive bud as a second finger lathers itself in your wetness, sliding through your folds before dipping into your cunt.
his finger are barely an inch inside before they're back out. “you'll have to excuse me for going one handed for a second.”
rafes thumb moves away from your clit, and you're about to cry out for more, immediately missing the feeling, when rafes mouth drops and his tongue takes its place.
“doctor!” you shout.
“all normal.” rafe assures you, his lips already shining with your juices. “taste is an important part of the exam too. and you're very sweet.”
you watch as rafes head dips again, his mouth working on your cunt as his two fingers that you hadn't even realized have been pushed inside of you begin to move.
rafes free hand reaches for his pants, pushing them down to get his already hard cock out. he begins to stroke as his tongue licks at your clit, fingers opening you up.
you feel another jolt of pressure when his fingers spread to scissor and close, scissor and close, working your gummy walls open for him.
rafe presses a series of wet, sloppy kisses over your cunt before restraining himself and pulling back, licking greedily over his lips to not waste your taste.
“are you ready?” rafe asks, reaching into a drawer to get a condom.
“yes.” you nod quickly. you're more than desperate now for his cock, especially as his fingers slide out and leave you empty to squeeze around nothing.
rafe stands up, bringing his cock up into your sight line. your eyes widen when you see he's much longer and thicker than his two fingers that were already a tight fit inside you.
“don't worry.” rafe says as he tears the foil of the condom before getting the rubber out and rolling it down his length. “im gonna take good care of you.”
your hips already sit at perfect height as rafe steps between your legs. you would close them out of shyness if it was at all possible.
rafe taps his tip over your clit, making you moan out, but you don't bother to hold back, not when rafe lets out a moan as well.
“the room is completely noise proof, and sounds are nothing to be embarrassed by.” rafe assures you as he rubs his cock against your pussy, thoroughly wetting himself before pushing against your entrance.
it's a slow push to break the ring of muscle, and then an easy slide once he's in.
“h-holy shit.” you whine out, hands gripping the side of the bed as rafes hips immediately begin to swing in and out.
“any pain?”
“none.” you answer quickly. there's no hiding the intense pleasure being brought to your body, especially when rafes thumb retakes its place on your clit.
“there ya go.” rafe smiles as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock. “i can tell you're getting close.”
rafe glances at the clock, wishing he could fuck you for longer, but if he extends the time for the exam too long the nurses will surely get suspicious.
“how does it f-ffffffff-” your ability to speak briefly lapses when rafes thrust speed up. “feel for you?” you manage to complete your sentence.
“your pussy feels amazing. you're so tight and warm. any guy would be lucky to be inside of you.” rafe says, his hips moving faster, desperate to cum. “perfect.”
you are practically glowing underneath the praise and impending orgasm, rafes thumb moving faster with real purpose now.
your head tips back and before you know it, a wash of light and pleasure has taken over your body, and you're moaning and twitching as what you're certain is your high breaks.
“that's it.” rafe smiles, feeling your pussy flutter around him, clit pulsing with the strength of your orgasm as he thrusts harder into your pussy, putting all his might into helping you ride out your orgasm and spur on his own.
rafe lodges his cock as deep inside of you as he can as he cums, briefly cursing the barrier of the condom from preventing himself from flooding your womb.
“very- good.” rafe pants, pulling out extra slow despite the clock ticking down, watching as your hole squeezes back tight as he pulls out.
rafe discards the condom and then his soaked gloves, sticky with your wetness before tucking himself back into his pants.
“take all the time you need.” rafe undoes the stirrups and let's your legs flop down. “ill come check on you in five minutes, i need to see if my other patient is here.”
and just as quickly as he entered, rafe leaves the room, leaving you with your pussy a sloppy mess and heart beating fast.
1K notes · View notes
tbaluver · 3 days ago
Note
hiii headcanons for how sylus and zayne would react when they find mc sleeping and try to cuddle with her but she pushes them away in her sleep because it’s too hot?
Pushing Him Away In Your Sleep- Zayne & Sylus LADS
parings in order: Zayne x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff, silly a/n: hihi anonnie! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა i hope this was okay and that you enjoy reading! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ i hope i can get more writing in before Halloween and before I have to start studying again (╥﹏╥)
⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆
Tumblr media
Zayne:
There is nothing more than Zayne would want when returning home is settling down on your chest and wrapping his arms around you as you pull him closer. It’s either that or curled up together with you nuzzled against his chest or him spooning you. But you didn’t expect your snowman lover to have this much heat as you two fall into deep slumber
Zayne would stir awake from you gently nudging him in your sleepy state. At first he'd make sure you weren't having a nightmare or any of the sort but he'd eventually figure out you just wanted a more cooler position.
He’d sleepily adjust your position gently, making sure not to wake you up while ensuring he remains in some physical contact with you, so he’ll sling an arm around your waist.
If this is constantly happening, he’ll make sure to set the AC to a more chill temperature before slipping into bed with you. He’ll also take note and switch the sheets to a lighter and cooler fabric so it’s not as hot between you two.
Tumblr media
Sylus:
Before you both fall asleep in deep deep slumber, Sylus is either your weighted blanket. He either nestles against your chest with his arms wrapped around your waist but other times you find yourself curled up on top of him.
However as much as you love him, you could not stand the iron grip this six foot two furnace had on you. All your limbs were tangled with his as if you were fully cocooned by him. You couldn’t move much and it was getting so so hot. The only attempt that seemed to work in your sleepy state was to gently nudge him until you were finally free from his heated embrace. 
This would definitely wake him up, a sleepy frown on his face. He hates waking up to his arms empty and cold even though you're literally inches away from him. He’ll eventually roll to your side and wrap one arm around you.
But...if this was an ongoing thing, he’d CRANK up the AC just in your shared bedroom on purpose just so you can find comfort and warmth in him. With one eye cracked open, he’d watch you sleepily nestle back into his embrace. A playful smirk written on his lips as he watches you snuggle against him.
1K notes · View notes
affableramen · 3 days ago
Text
waking up with them
fluff; early relationship; no smut but implication of you sharing the same bed
note: very self-indulgent & comforting
Tumblr media
Wriothesley
When you wake up, Wriothesley is still sleeping soundly. His hair is slightly disheveled, and his mouth slightly opened as he looks extremely tranquil in his sleep.
But when your brush your fingers over his thick hair, he responds, wakin up to your touch immediately. He opens one eye and sees you next to him, your hand in his hair. Wriothesley touches your wrist gently, pulls it down and delivers a shallow kiss onto your palm.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Come on, Wrio. Who is beautiful at this hour? I am sure I look messed up in the mornings.”
He nuzzles his face into your hand, kissing it all over and murmurs silently:
“Beautiful.”
Tartaglia
He is deeply asleep when you play with his copper hair. When you find yourself under the same blanket with Ajax, you feel utter sense of home. His place radiates the vibe of wanting to have you here. You think it ridiculous first, but your thoughts are kindly interrupted by Ajax’s slowly stirring. As he wakes up, he pulls you closer to his chest, there is a silly smile on his lips.
“Need your warmth a while longer…” he says, still sleepily.
“I’m happy to share some with you.”
Neuvillette
Neuvillette wakes up long before you to simply admire your sleepy state. You look beautiful when you’re asleep to him: peaceful, tranquil, gorgeous even, he thinks. Not a single shade of worry appears to touch your face. You look incredibly smooth and contented. As you stir gently in your sleep, Neuvillette feels like he should have been more careful with stroking your face. Though he didn't want you to wake up so early, he becomes the happiest man alive when he sees the way your eyes stop at him.
“Neuvi…” says the dreamy you.
“Apologies if I woke you, it was unintentional”, he resumes stroking your hair and pushes a lock behind your ear. “I like the sight of it.”
“Of what?”
“Of you wrapped in my blanket. It makes me feel so warm.”
Pantalone
You wake up in the softness of sheets of his king-sized bed. The sunlight lets thin rays get through your curtains and illuminate a part of your boyfriend's face. He’s woken up before you, his eyes softly looking at you, and he moves his hand out of the middle of the fuzzy blanket to run his fingers over your cheek gently. The touch is lightweight and innocent, so is Pantalone’s smile. Slowly waking up, you cannot believe that you are under the same blanket together. Carefully, you push yourself closer to embrace Pantalone, and he does the same as if having read your mind. Tightly he hugs and cuddles you. 
“You’re here.”
“Did you think I’d leave you to an empty bed?”
“I can’t say I did not consider that outcome. But I am most contented with how the things are now.”
Ayato
You wake up and first few moments stare into Ayato’s violet eyes, him being woken up early. You look into his face: it’s peaceful and quiet. The man known for liking to talk your ears out and sprinkling sarcasm here and there is quietly lying in the bed right now enjoying the sight of your presence, so intimate and so close. He is completely silent, just examining the look on your face, your features, trying to find any discontent or discomfort in your gaze but fails to find one.
“Won’t you be late?” 
“I will”, he says nonchalantly. He wants to stay with you in the bed so much that it’s apparently read on his face. 
“But you’re the CEO…”
“Can wait. Besides, no one will die if I am just 30 minutes late.”
Capitano
He wakes up first and strokes your hair gingerly. You are still asleep when a rough big hand caresses the thin skin of your face, from time to time stopping on your chin and lips. Though Capitano tries to hide his affections and make the touch as much subtle as possible, his calloused hand betrays his gentleness. You stir, slowly coming to senses and see Captain’s grave face appear in front of you. This man just seems incapable of smiling, even in such domestic and sweet circumstances. You pout back at him.
“Must you be so tense?”
“I’m unhappy to wake you. Try to sleep more, you’ve been through a lot.”
“I don’t mind sleeping more. But only if it’s in your arms, sir.”
Alhaitham
You wake up first and cannot deny yourself the joy of seeing Alhaitham so peaceful and pretty. As he is deep in his sleep you notice some features of his face that you’d never seen before. The features that are only taken notice of when in close proximity. You try to silently move closer to him, balancing on your elbows and ending up delivering a little peck in his lips. 
That cautious but satisfying action makes Alhaitham stir and wake up eventually. When you pull away you see his half-closed eyes staring at you. But if his look is usually clouded with intense judgement and disgust, right now he looks extremely soft for someone who avoids being in people’s company too much. 
“Hey”, he is surprised and troubled. “You stayed?”
“As you see. I wasn't ready to let you go. Besides, you give out very nice hugs.”
Dottore
He wakes first. His usually eerie expression now less eerie as he looks at the person sleeping next to him, comfortably wrapped in the blanket he previously used for himself. Dottore gives up to a little blush on his face because he does not understand how you could agree to stand the whole night with him. He knew you are not the type of girl to leave without a word, but he still expected you to escape. But you stayed, and Dottore finds himself utterly perplexed, but also madly in love.
“Dott…” your hand reaches out to touch him. Dottore blushes even more and thank God your eyes are still shut when you touch his cheek, otherwise he’d embarrass himself with a tomato-red face.
Dainsleif
You wake him with your gentle touch. Although you had hoped the light weight touch of your fingers wouldn't stir him, yet the sensitive Dainsleif still finds himself waken up by you. And he is completely disoriented. One part of him screams happy of seeing you next to him, under the same blanket as his own body, but the other is angry that he let you, perhaps, too close.
But he doesn't want to think. Not right now, when you are looking at him with so much affection. Dainsleif wants you to recognise the same affection in his eyes as he pulls you closer, finds your hand and intertwines his fingers with you.
“So delighted you’re here.”
“I wouldn't go anywhere without you, Dain.”
Baizhu
He wakes first and moves some strands out of your face to see you more clearly. Baizhu didn't even dream of it — to see you so closely, so intimately. He has you touch the same blanket he used to cover his own body with, to get some warmth. This feels so personal to him, he lets out a little chuckle, smiling to his thoughts.
When you wake up, the first thing you see is emerald green hair before you. You raise your hand to caress the hair and this might be the first time you witness the pharmacist without his glasses. His face is extremely different from what you had known before. You now clearly see his eyes which are usually sad and radiate constant struggling, but right now he looks somewhat tranquil and at peace. If you are the reason of his calmness, it makes you immensely happy.
“I didn't want to wake you up. Sorry”, he lets out a nervous laugh.
“I don’t mind.”
“You’re so beautiful in the morning.”
“So are you.”
531 notes · View notes
seasons-of-death · 2 days ago
Text
innocentvirgin!reader seeing rafe work out
warnings: smut, handjob (kinda), MDNI this is based on this request, thank you and i hope you enjoy it baby!!
Tumblr media
it wasn't fair how just someone's back could look so good while they were literally pulling themselves up and down on a steel pole.
rafe's back muscles basically glistened under the lights of the cameron home gym, your teeth biting down on your lower lip as you watched him do pull-ups, sweat slowly rolling down his back muscles, the urge to press your legs closer together getting stronger and stronger.
the music playing from his speakers was so loud that rafe hadn't been able to hear you come in. that morning you had sent him a picture of yourself wearing a criminally short dress, half your thighs visible, and thanks to his friends showing up at the ass-crack of dawn and demanding he come out with them, he didn't have any time to jerk off, so now he was trying to take his frustration out by working out.
rafe let out a small groan when he pulled his chest up to the pull-up bar, but even that couldn't mute the little whine coming from behind him, and when rafe's feet finally hit the ground, he turned around to see you, a dazed expression on your face.
"you're stalking me now, huh?" he grinned, tilting his head back slightly as he watched you start fiddling more and more, trying to distract yourself from him.
"no. no, i wasn't."
"mmhm. sure you weren't." rafe chuckled, making his way to you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you so close to his chest that you could definitely feel the bulge in his shorts, causing your eyes to widen and your cheeks to start warm up like a hot summer day.
you looked down at his chest, sweat slowly dripping down like it was a movie; like this was something he had planned. but what he hadn't planned, or even imagined would happen was you bringing your hand down to the bulge in his shorts, rafe letting out a small whine, one that made you press your legs even closer together.
you continued to palm rafe through his shorts, the blonde throwing his head back in pleasure, trying to figure out just how you'd managed to get such a hold on him; plenty of girls had given him proper handjobs and blowjobs, but there he was, about to blow his load all over his black boxers just because you were palming his cock through the thin fabric of his shorts.
"i-is this alright?" you mumbled softly, causing another groan to escape rafe's lips as his hips bucked against your hand, the man letting out an even louder groan when you moved your hand down his shorts and started properly stroking his cock through his boxers.
"i... i know you're..." rafe let out a loud gasp inbetween his sentence, "you're not experienced, but... fuck, baby, i can't handle this for much longer..." he mumbled, letting out a noise that was between a sigh and a groan.
you kept stroking rafe's cock through his boxers, his blue eyes rolling back while he panted uncontrollably, his hips bucking to the pace of your hand's movements.
"baby, i'm go-"
before rafe could even finish his sentence, his cock started spurting white, hot cum all over his boxers, your hand still stroking him outside the boxers, and even though your soft voice was trying to calm him down, rafe couldn't concentrate on it, all of his focus on the pulsing on his cock as his boxers filled with his own cum.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
642 notes · View notes
cosmicmunsonwrites · 3 days ago
Text
i’ll drive, i’ll drive all night
bf!rafe cameron x fem!reader
Tumblr media
cw — alcohol, brief talks abt arguing, this is lowk short
summary — you drunk call rafe for a ride home from your friends house.
a/n — whipped this up in a few minutes so please don’t be too harsh. request!!
do not copy or post my work anywhere else.
you sat outside with the warm breeze as you waited on the steps to your best friends house for your boyfriend to pick you up. you were completely out of it, eyes feeling heavy, body all soft and feeling like jelly from the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through you.
you’d probably had one too many drinks and you were expecting a lecture from rafe when he arrived but you were too far past the point of caring. you just wanted to see him and go home after the terrible day you’d had.
the two of you had argued earlier in the afternoon which eventually led to you both parting ways and not speaking for a few hours. you were both very opinionated and you had attitudes that often didn’t mix well when you were frustrated. one of you usually apologized though and you guys moved past it.
this one was different though. you knew you’d been a little mean in your replies but you also felt like he deserved a little reality check. you currently couldn’t even remember why you were arguing due to your drunken state, but you knew it was something you guys could easily get over. you two would probably forget about it by morning anyway.
when you finally saw the big truck pull into the driveway, you quickly stood and almost immediately regretted the sudden action. your head began to spin and a pain accumulated behind your eyelids as you drunkenly stumbled to his car. he was standing on the passengers side waiting for you.
once you approached after tripping over your own feet, he opened up the door for you without a word and helped you up the big step to get inside. he shut it behind you and made his way into his own seat. he assured you had your seatbelt on and began reversing out of the driveway without a word.
“i’m sorry,” you slurred quietly, noticing the way both his hands held the steering wheel instead of one of them resting on your thigh. “didn’t know who else to call.”
you heard him sigh and begin to drive. “would rather you call me than anyone else,” he admitted honestly and spared a glance in your direction. his heart broke a little at the soft pout on your lips and the sad glint in your eyes. “‘nd i’m not mad at you, baby. ‘s fine.”
your eyes glistened with tears as you looked at him. “you’re not?” you mumbled under your breath, eyes feeling heavier and your head getting all foggy.
he shook his head with a shrug and gently rested his hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, thumb soothing over your skin reassuringly. “could never be mad at you,” he said before the car fell into a comfortable silence. the only sound being the quiet song playing on his radio.
you didn’t know when you fell asleep or how long it’d been since, but you began to wake to the sight of rafe standing in front of you looking extremely focused and a soft towel being dragged carefully over your cheeks. you were sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread slightly and him standing between them with majority of your body weight leaning against his.
he was holding your jaw in one hand while the other hand did what you assumed was taking off your makeup. when you finally fluttered your eyes open for real this time, he scanned your face and placed the towel down on the counter. “you have fun tonight?”
you nodded and smiled softly. “mhm. morgan’s friends are really nice. the bar was so cool,” you replied, awkwardly rubbing your hands along your thighs not knowing whether or not it was appropriate to touch him. “‘m really sorry, rafe.”
he went silent for a moment but his eyes stayed fixed on yours. “its okay, sweetheart. we both said some shit we shouldn’t have. ‘s alright. people make mistakes.”
“i was bein’ a bitch earlier,” you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his chest.
he laughed softly and smoothed a hand down the back of your head comfortingly. “i think i can handle your attitude pretty well by now,” he replied just barely above a whisper. “c’mon. time for bed.”
you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands found the backs of your thighs, lifting you and walking you to your shared bedroom before dropping you down gently on your side. he was quick to pull his shirt over his head and crawl under the covers beside you.
you scooted closer to his side and sighed at the familiar warmth you enjoyed so much. his arm loosely fell to the dip of your waist as he scrolled through netflix to find a movie on, knowing you couldn’t sleep without the tv on. “i love you baby,” you muttered through a sleep-laced voice.
he smiled and pressed a kiss to your hair. “i love you more, angel.”
627 notes · View notes
amazinglyashy · 2 days ago
Note
Hi hi I just found your blog like an hour ago and I’ve been scrolling and am obsessed with the way you write for the l&ds!! ❤️❤️ if you don’t mind I love a little angst and was wondering if you could write the boys reacting to MC showing up at their doorstep heavily injured from like a fight with a wanderer.
Oh my gosh thank you!!! And I don't mind at all, my friends make fun of me for how much I enjoy hurt/comfort and angst :'D Thank you for the request!
Tumblr media
LaDS men react to you appearing on their doorstep, injured and bleeding
Xavier -
If you end up at his door, it's more than likely because your unconscious decided to hit the button for his floor rather than your own. You just wanted to get home, not bother anyone, but he's stood right there. Having just come home from grabbing a late night snack from a nearby convenience store, you stumbled out of the elevator right as he's unlocking his front door.
He drops his keys and his bag.
It's a good thing too, because your legs gave out right then, so it's much better for him to catch you if his arms are free.
He's calling your name, and while you're still conscious, you're not really processing anything anymore. You're in too much shock, and you've lost too much blood by now.
He'll get the door unlocked and rush you inside his apartment, setting you down on his couch as he runs for a first aid kit, calling the association for emergency services while he does so.
"You're going to be okay. I promise. Just continue to breathe, alright?"
Xavier doesn't know if he's saying that to comfort you or himself, but he also isn't stopping to think about it, as he rapidly administers first aid to your wounds to at least slow the bleeding until help can arrive.
It's three in the morning but he's wide awake sitting next to your bed at the hospital, something unnatural for someone so sleep deprived usually.
He can't bring himself to shut his eyes though.
It's not work the risk.
Not until you wake up first.
Zayne -
It's like his brain splits into two the moment that he sees you standing there.
One side is his medical knowledge rushing forward as he moves to catch you as your feet stumble beneath you, trying to impossibly assess the extent of the damage before even getting to see it all. It's the half that's taking you to his kitchen table, because it's the easiest workspace for him right now. The one that's pulling out his doctor's bag from the closet in the hall, and the first aid kit from the cupboard in the kitchen as he cuts your shirt open.
The other side?
Oh honey, his heart is breaking.
If you think there's a day at work where he doesn't pray to any existent or nonexistent god that he doesn't see you today, spread out on a gurney or operating table without warning due to your unconscious state, then you'd be painfully wrong.
It's amazing how well he works while panicking on the inside, his skilled hands patching your wounds after meticulous sterilization, any sutures needed placed perfectly even through your pained groans tugging at his heart.
He knows he needs to get you to the hospital, even though he's taken good care of you in his own home. But he needs to sink to the floor for a minute, his back dragging against the wall as he heaves a deep sigh. It's a heavy toll feeling the stick of the dried blood on his hands- your blood on his hands.
With all his knowledge, he knows you'll be okay. He knows he himself will be okay. But right now-
He's not.
Sylus -
The N109 zone is beyond dangerous, mostly due to the criminals and leeches lurking in the dark shadows, but there's also no shortage of Wanderers, including ones that have been genetically altered to be even worse than they normally were.
So when Sylus sees you stumbling at his doorstep, bloodied hand reaching for the knob as he glances at the camera feed, he's not sure he could say he's ever moved so fast in his life otherwise. "Sweetie-" He breathes, as he catches you, scooping you up and rushing you inside as quickly as he possibly can without aggravating your already extensive injuries.
Luke is already running for first aid, and Kieran is already contacting the doctor. Mephisto is shrieking in the hall as he follows Sylus to his bedroom, protesting the fact that Sylus had needed him for surveillance of a target today instead of watching you.
Sylus knows.
He knows this is his fault.
If he had had someone keeping an eye on you, this wouldn't have happened.
His eyes are glued to your barely conscious form in his arms, the guilt in the recesses of his heart digging deeper with every slather of red that painted your skin.
Sorry to say, you're going to have your work cut out for you when you wake up. It's going to take a lot of heavy lifting on your part to convince him that he's not at fault for what happened to you.
And you will be waking up.
Sylus will make sure of that.
Rafayel -
Don't make his nightmares a reality.
Not again.
He's catching you before you can even begin to sway, and he'll be lucky if he remembers to shut the door behind him, his body melding against yours as he picks you up and runs down to his car.
"No, no no no. You stay awake, cutie."
He's definitely breaking at least a dozen laws just trying to get you to Akso hospital as quickly as he can. His mind is racing as fast as his car is moving down the streets, wondering what could have happened to you, what he should be doing right now, if he should have administered first aid to you before taking off-
But he's there so fast, it would have been nearly identical on the clock regardless of him still choosing to rush you to the hospital, or run to get and administer first aid for you from within his home.
He's there until you wake up- wide awake no matter how long it takes. It could be minutes, hours, days- he can't sleep. The image of you dying before him- the image of you standing on his doorstep as well- etched on the back of his eyelids every time he tried to close his eyes.
He talks to you even when you're not awake, stroking your hand, your cheek, the side of your neck- trying to make sure you're as comfortable as he can make you.
When you wake up again, he has to hold himself back with everything in him from squeezing you too tightly. He doesn't want to burst your stitches or harm you, but his body and arms are all-encompassing on you as he hugs you firmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
He really doesn't need you to see him cry.
638 notes · View notes
pathologicalreid · 2 days ago
Text
missed calls | s.r.
Tumblr media
in which Spencer answers Hotch's daughter's phone when he calls to check in after a case
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: hotchner!reader, minimal case information, spencer's pov word count: 741 a/n: yooo this is the shortest margotober fic!! but it's so wholesome that i couldn't pick anything else 😭
Tumblr media
Your nose whistled with every exhale, with every page he turned, Spencer looked down at your sleeping form to make sure he wasn’t disturbing you. He ignored the buzzing of your phone, Hotch told everyone not to come in until the briefing at ten, so the buzzing wasn’t something he’d concern himself with. He’d rather you catch up on sleep.
Turning the next page, he moved his hand down and swept some hair from your face, freezing when you stirred. He kept his eyes on you, making sure you didn’t fully wake up before he returned to his book.
Last week, a case had gone wrong, and you ended up at the center of it. Physically, you were unharmed, but the way the case went down took a toll on you mentally. You tried to accept the blame, but no one else would allow you to be blamed.
It had been keeping you up at night, thinking you could’ve done something differently that would’ve led to a different outcome. You would stare at the ceiling for all hours of the morning until either your alarm went off or you physically couldn’t keep your eyes open. Sleep deprivation in the field was dangerous, Spencer knew that from personal experience.
So, when the two of you came home from work, decided to decompress on the couch and you fell asleep with your head in his lap, he resolved himself to a night on the couch. If he had to suffer a stiff neck in the morning, he’d get through it just so you can get the rest you so desperately need.
Looking back over at your phone as it rang again, he adjusted the blanket that you had thrown over yourself before finally picking up the phone. He hummed at the screen, your dad was calling you, three times in the last ten minutes.
Spencer looked down at you, your hands folded beneath your head as you dreamt, and he couldn’t get himself to wake you. It felt cruel to wake you when this is the first time you’ve fallen asleep naturally in days, so instead of having you answer the phone, he clicks the green icon and answers the call himself.
“Hey, Hotch,” he greeted, keeping his voice low so that he wouldn’t ruin his own plan and wake you up.
Your father is silent on the other line for a moment, probably checking his screen to double check which number he had called, “Where’s Y/N?” He asked, a hint of fatherly concern laced in his tone.
Watching you sleep, Spencer looked at you as he responded, “She’s right here, she’s asleep.”
Hotch was silent on the other end of the call; he was more than aware of your sleeping problems. Just yesterday, he had pulled Spencer into his office to ask him what was going on with you, which clued Spencer into the fact that you were messing up at work. Little things like missing a checkbox on paperwork and forgetting files on your desk when you were supposed to be in the roundtable room.
Spencer gently cleared his throat, “Did you need to talk to her?” It was a leading question, Spencer was providing the answer on a silver platter, nearly begging your father to just let you sleep.
“No,” Hotch answered quickly, practically scrambling to get the answer out. “No, don’t wake her,” he iterated, “Just, uh… will you tell her I called?”
Nodding even though he couldn’t see, Spencer responded, “Yeah, I’ll tell her in the morning.”
Your dad was quiet for a moment before he spoke up again, “Reid?”
“Yes, sir?” He answered dutifully, his voice just hovering over a whisper as you adjusted in your sleep.
“Thank you,” he responded, matching Spencer’s quiet tone over the phone, likely because Jack was already asleep for the night. “For watching over her,” he continued, clarifying why exactly he was expressing gratitude.
Spencer gently smoothed your hair back, personally grateful to see peace on your face as you slept. “It’s my pleasure,” he whispered in response.
Your dad cleared his throat, “Have a good night, Reid.”
“You as well,” Spencer moved the phone, ending the call before returning it to its place on the side table. Unable to reach you, he pressed two of his fingers to his lips before resting them on your temple, effectively kissing you goodnight before he lifted his book and went back to reading.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
656 notes · View notes
theonottsbxtch · 2 days ago
Text
EL COQUETO | FC43
an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request
summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.
wc: 7.6k
Tumblr media
The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving style—and, evidently, his unapologetic charm.
He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew he’d be welcome, even if he hadn’t been invited.
“Hola,” he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. “You must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist here—of course, I was told to behave.”
She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. “Franco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?”
His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. “How am I feeling?” He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. “Well, right now, very lucky. They said I’d get tough questions, but they didn’t say the interviewer would be… distracting.”
She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. “So you feel ready for the pressure, then?” she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.
“For the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. “For the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, sí?”
She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldn’t be the one to crack first.
“I’m sure you’ll learn quickly,” she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “Now, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?”
His grin broadened, but he played along. “Goals for the weekend,” he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. “Win a few hearts, break a few records—no particular order.” He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.
“Right. Well, I hope you’re ready for the competition,” she managed.
He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “With you here, qué competencia?”
She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. “You know, charm doesn’t score you points on the track.”
“Ah, no?” He tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Then I suppose I’ll have to win the hard way.”
Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Franco’s arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Franco’s attention was still locked on her, and he hadn’t missed a beat.
“So,” he said, with that soft smile of his, “do you think I’ll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?”
She gave him a dry smile. “You might have your work cut out for you. It’s not a stroll through Argentina, after all.”
He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. “You’re tough,” he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. “I can see why you’re the best.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery won’t distract me from the questions, Franco.”
“No? Not even if I try very, very hard?” he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, really—the way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt… unexpectedly genuine.
“Not even then,” she replied, her tone light but steady. “Let’s talk strategy. What’s your focus for your first race?”
He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. “My focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. I’ve been itching to get back on the track.”
It was the most serious answer he’d given yet, and she noted the shift in his voice—a hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.
“And your teammate?” she pressed, sensing she’d found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. “Are you prepared for the rivalry?”
Franco’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. “My teammate…” He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “He’s William’s best. I’ll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didn’t come here to play second.”
She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.
“Good to hear,” she said, offering a small nod. “We’ll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.”
“I live up to my promises,” he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. “One of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. I’ll start with that goal.”
Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadn’t just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.
One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.
When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Franco’s number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, who’d barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.
From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didn’t charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.
As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.
She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: “Do you think I’ll charm Formula One?” She’d laughed it off, but he had something special, didn’t he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.
Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his car—a close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehow—somehow—he made it stick.
“P12!” The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.
She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Franco’s car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.
When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where he’d inevitably cross her path. She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.
When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. “Ah, my toughest questioner returns,” he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. “So? Impressed?”
She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. “Not bad for a first race,” she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. “Though I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.”
Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. “You sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didn’t I?” His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. “I did better than you expected, maybe?”
“Maybe,” she admitted, leaning in just a bit. “I wouldn’t let it go to your head, though.”
He feigned a wince. “Ah, so I’ll have to work harder to impress you, then.”
With that, she couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Perhaps,” she said, voice softer. “But you’ve made a start.”
She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was… well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.
She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.
“Ah, finally,” he said, his tone playful as she approached. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Franco’s obvious interest.
She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. “Franco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.”
“Gracias, cariño,” he replied, eyes sparkling. “For a moment, I thought you didn’t think I could do it.”
“Well, you didn’t exactly take the most traditional route,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.”
He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. “I thought about what you said. ‘Charm doesn’t score points.’ So I had to give you something else to smile about.”
She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. “Don’t flatter yourself, Franco. I’m just here to report the facts.”
“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still haven’t impressed the person who matters most.”
“The person who—?” She trailed off, exasperated. “Franco, you were the story today.”
“Was I?” he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. “Because if I’m the story, you’re the reason it’s a good one.”
Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. “When can we continue our interview?”
She forced herself to keep her composure. “I think you’ve given me more than enough material for one day.”
“A pity.” He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. “Then maybe next time, you’ll be a little more impressed.”
She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence he’d shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.
“Wow.” The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. “You okay there? He has that effect, doesn’t he?”
She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I—yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. “The person who matters most.”
“Oh, I think I do.” The other journalist smirked, nodding in Franco’s direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. “It seems Franco over here has a slight crush.”
She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than she’d intended. “Franco has a crush on every woman he talks to. It’s his… thing since he got here.”
The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe so, but I’ve watched him all day and that was different.”
Her colleague’s words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadn’t even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Franco’s charm wasn’t just some casual game to him; it felt more… intense. And he’d directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.
The journalist chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the attention—it’s not every day a rookie looks at you like you’re the finish line.”
She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didn’t want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way he’d looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.
“Well, let’s hope he stays focused on the real finish line,” she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didn’t quite land. But she couldn’t deny it—Franco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.
Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Franco—his effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way he’d singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. She’d covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than she’d care to admit.
With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.
Francolpainto has sent you a message.
She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casual—like he hadn’t already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.
Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.
Her: Yes, I am.
The response came almost immediately.
Franco: Perfect! I’m downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?
She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was tempting—she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t. But she knew his type all too well, didn’t she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.
No, she couldn’t let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.
Her: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Long day.
She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.
Franco: Too bad. I was hoping I’d finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.
She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.
Her: You’re very determined, Franco. But I have to ask—do you make this invitation to all the journalists?
A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.
Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.
Her: Pity, this one isn’t intrested.
She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Franco’s charm was undeniably effective, but she wasn’t about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. He’d have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.
Franco: Really? You’re going to turn me down just like that?
She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasn’t used to hearing “no.”
Her: Really. I’ve seen you in action today, Franco. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to keep you company.
A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.
Franco: That’s not what I meant. Today was… different. I don’t want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.
Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.
Her: Nice try. But I’ve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.
A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe he’d let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.
Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.
She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.
Her: Why should I believe this isn’t just a game to you?
His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.
Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. I’m not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.
She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it.
Her: We’ll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.
Franco: Gracias. And just so you know… I’m not giving up that easily.
The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Franco’s car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, he’d stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messages—though his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadn’t exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.
She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.
“Back to cheer me on, sí?” he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.
She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I’m here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.” She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.
He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “They’re great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me I’d have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.”
She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. “Oh, you remember that, do you?”
“Every word,” he said, his gaze steady. “I thought about it all week.”
A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. “Well, if you’re serious, you’ll have to do better than last week’s P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.”
His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. “If it’s a higher position you want,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “then I’ll get it. Just keep watching.”
She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be watching, Colapinto. Don’t disappoint me.”
He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. “I don’t plan to,” he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.
As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.
She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Franco’s car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadn’t expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think he’d break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.
“Impressive for a rookie,” she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.
Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasn’t just hanging on—he was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadn’t seen before.
He’d promised her he’d finish higher than last week, and she’d thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.
By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position he’d fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.
She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. She’d known he was talented, of course—he wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than she’d expected.
As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasn’t sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.
She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mind—his nerve, his timing, the way he’d handled himself on the track. It wasn’t just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldn’t ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that he’d done it, in part, for her.
Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.
She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. “Franco Colapinto, P8—your second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?”
He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. “So I did it for them. Great motivation.”
Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.
“Impressive,” she said, keeping her voice level. “And this ‘motivation’—I assume it’s the same one who’s kept you on your toes all week?”
Franco’s grin grew wider, unabashed. “Absolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.” He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And if they ask, I’ll do it again.”
A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn’t the usual post-race banter, and he didn’t seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.
“Well, whatever you’re doing,” she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, “it seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.”
He tilted his head, as if studying her. “Then maybe next week, you’ll set the bar even higher for me?” His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.
She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. “We’ll see, Colapinto. For now, let’s just focus on how you plan to keep this up.”
He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. “Oh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.” With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview she’d ever conducted.
Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Franco’s performance—and his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldn’t believe how he’d shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that he’d push harder just because she’d challenged him.
Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the William’s Instagram Account.
Team Rep: Hey, what’s your room number?
She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Franco’s. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.
Her: Room 914.
Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.
Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers—vibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.
Her pulse quickened. She didn’t have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.
Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.
“To my motivation: thank you for the push. Let’s raise the stakes again soon. — F.
A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpected—and, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.
She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldn’t help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasn’t giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to.
She couldn’t resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.
Her: Cute.
It didn’t take long for his response to pop up.
Franco: Oh? You find me cute?
She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.
Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.
A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.
Franco: Well, then… would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?
She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked like—a line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie who’d just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldn’t afford. It wasn’t just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.
Her: I don’t know, Franco. There’s too much on the line.
A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe he’d let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.
Franco: Okay.
She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling… unbalanced.
Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d made the wrong choice.
Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeks—well, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadn’t followed up on his dinner invitation, hadn’t tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been too cautious.
Just then, she spotted him near the team’s garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.
“Hola, stranger,” he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. “Miss me?”
She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “You were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. “Four weeks is a long time, don’t you think?”
She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadn’t let her brush-off change him—he was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.
“Have you been behaving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?”
Franco’s grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. “Depends. You miss them?”
She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. “I’d hardly admit that if I did.”
He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. “Good thing I’m a patient man, then. Because I’m not done yet.” There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.
Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadn’t crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.
As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. “You know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. I’ll be around.”
And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.
She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Franco’s car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination she’d come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.
By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasn’t just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.
Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfect—his words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: “If they ask, I’ll do it again.”
The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that he’d been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldn’t wait to see him walk in.
When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than she’d ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“Franco Colapinto,” she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. “P10 from P17—congratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?”
He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. “Well, you know me. I like a good challenge,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. “And I couldn’t let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.”
The implication wasn’t lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. “Seems like you’re making a habit of climbing positions to impress,” she replied, keeping her tone light.
Franco’s smile softened, turning almost genuine. “For some things,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “it’s worth the effort.”
She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. “Well, you’ve certainly earned that P10. What’s the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?”
“Oh, definitely,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “But let’s say I’ll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, I’ll be ready.” His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.
She couldn’t hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybe—just maybe—she was ready to see where this challenge would lead.
As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that she’d tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his look—there was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as he’d promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.
She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driver’s room.
She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.
The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.
“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I didn’t expect my motivation to show up in person.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. “I figured I’d come to make sure you’re planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasn’t exactly a small feat.”
His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave her—warm, unguarded, and almost vulnerable—made her heart skip a beat.
She’d broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to regret a single one.
Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.
She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.
She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. “Figured I’d make sure you’re holding up after all that hard work.”
He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. “Oh, I’m holding up just fine.” He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. “In fact, I think I’m doing better than fine.”
Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balance—at least not completely. “You know,” she said, trying to match his tone, “you don’t have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.”
Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Only with you, cariño.”
She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.
“Not used to being flirted with, cariño?” he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.
She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. “No… not like this.”
“Shame,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. “Because I’m just getting started.”
She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall she’d put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.
For a moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.
Franco’s gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.
She didn’t realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, I’m here.
When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.
“You know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, “I thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smile…” He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. “I was convinced you’d never actually let me get this close.”
She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didn’t want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.
Franco’s surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.
Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadn’t seen before.
“Good,” she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.
Maybe he was worth the wait.
the end.
478 notes · View notes
thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Interference Part 1
Prompt: You run to your FBI neighbor when you and your boyfriend get into a fight.
Notes: Descriptions of DA scenario, mentions of drug use
Part 2
You tried to go over every thing you did throughout your day that might've caused your boyfriend to be so upset but couldn't think of anything. Maybe it was because you didn't stay up to wait for him to get home last night, even though you gave him till midnight. Or maybe you left some dishes in the sink that he had to clean up.
Either way, his anger was inconsolable and you knew better than to even utter a word as he slammed the doors and walked around the house with a hard set scowl on his face. You just took shelter in the kitchen as you nervously cleaned out the fridge, tossing the expired condiments away.
"This house is always such a fucking mess! You spend at least half the day here, you'd think it would look spotless!"
You knew he wasn't really mad about the cleanliness. You deep cleaned the house every single day till it was shining, he was just projecting. You weren't sure whether to respond to his outburst or just let it go but didn't even have time to make a decision once he came walking into the kitchen. The hairs on the back of your neck raised and your face heated up in anxiety as he stood there staring at you.
That's when you noticed the all too familiar state he was in. Dilated pupils, rapid breathing, slight sweat forming around his brows. He was high.
"What are you doing, huh? Throwing shit away? He said, grabbing the box of leftovers you had saved from a few days ago. "What if I still wanted to eat this? Were you going to bother to ask me?"
"I- uh- it's from a few days ago. I didn't think-
"Exactly! You didn't think! Just fucking throwing away whatever you want!"
You weren't expecting the box of expired food to be thrown at you, hitting you square in the chest, sticky noodles getting in your hair and falling into your lap.
"This is my fucking house! My fucking food! You don't get to throw away anything unless I say you can!"
You had barely recovered from food being thrown at you, you didn't realize he made a moved in on you and grabbing your arm tightly, jerking you up to your feet and pushing you towards the other side of the kitchen, the momentum causing you to lose your footing and fall to the floor.
Your senses were kicking into overdrive as you scrambled to your feet just as he grabbed a jar of pickles and launched it in your direction. It shattered on the wall besides you and you felt the sharp pain of small glass pieces cutting your skin.
You had never seen him this out of control before. There was something behind his eyes that scared you more than normal and you knew you needed to get out of his path of blinding rage. You made a run towards the hallway, him chasing you close behind but you managed to close and lock the bathroom door just in time.
"Oh, you wanna play this game now? Ok."
Your breaths were heavy, so much adrenaline flowing through your veins it almost made you woozy. There was a moment of silence, making you think he had walked away but was completely mistaken once you watched the whole door shake at the impact as he attempted to break it down. Another slam and you saw small cracks forming in the middle of the only thing keeping you safe.
You made a split second decision to escape through the window, sliding it open and trying your best to undo the screen that didn't want to cooperate. Another slam.
You looked behind you at the battered door and knew it could only hold maybe one more before he was able to get through- so like a rat trapped in a corner, you began banging on the screen until it popped off, quickly pulling your body to climb out, scraping your hips on the ledge in the process.
The gravel floor did no favors for you as you landed awkwardly, but at this point you couldn't feel anything. Or at least your brain wasn't giving you any time to register the pain. Springing to your feet, you ran out to the front of the house, your first thought to take the car but realized the keys were inside.
That's when you saw him.
He was standing on his porch going through his mail, seemingly looking like he had just gotten home from somewhere. You had heard rumors from some of the neighbors that he worked for the government or something, giving you some hope.
You began running over to him, not daring to look back to see if your boyfriend was chasing you or not.
He has seen you coming over and immediately looked concerned, putting his mail back in the mailbox and practically catching you in his arms once you reached him.
"Please. Help me- my boyfriend. H-he's gonna kill me."
You were crying now, trying to form sentences when he asked you what happened but couldn't.
When you spotted your boyfriend walk out the front door of your house and look over in your direction, a bat in hand your heart stopped.
"Please. Please," you pleaded, hiding behind his tall frame and holding onto his quarter zip for dear life.
"Here, get inside," he said, opening his front door, the both of you entering as he walked over to his kitchen counter where a gun, badge and handcuffs were set. He grabbed the gun and cuffs, clipping both of them on his waist band and turning to you.
"Stay here."
You nodded obediently and watched him walked back out. He didn't close the door so you were able to watch everything from the moment your boyfriend began waving the bat around crazily towards your neighbor to him pulling out his gun and pointing it at him.
"Get down on the ground!"
For a second you thought your boyfriend wasn't going to listen as he stared at your neighbor with fury but seemed to be coherent enough to drop the bat and put his hands in the air, looking over at you.
"Just you wait, bitch. You'll get yours."
By now, everyone was either peeping through their windows or standing on the sidewalk, nosey to see what all the commotion was about as your neighbor pushed your boyfriend to the floor and handcuffed him.
It wasn't long before multiple cop cars showed up, taking over the scene. Your neighbor made his way over to you and offered you a hand, making you realize that you were sitting on the floor, frozen to the spot, hugging your legs.
"The officers are going to want a report but I want you checked out by the paramedics first."
You took his hand but relied all on him to pull you up as your legs felt like jello. The feeling of relief and sadness overtook you as you fell into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Instead of being pushed away and teased for it like you were used to, you got pulled in tighter and long strong arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in a warm protective embrace.
He let you cry like that for a little until you calmed down enough to walk with him outside to the ambulance that was waiting. He didn't leave as they had you climb inside and lay on the stretcher so one of the paramedics could clean up the small cuts around your arm caused by the glass jar.
"How long have you lived there?" he asked, from besides you on the bench. You hoped he didn't feel guilty for not catching the abuse sooner.
"Not very long. He's been there for years but I just moved in about a few months ago. I don't usually leave the house since I work from home so that's probably why you didn't see me too often," you answered, wincing as the antiseptic touched your raw skin.
Just then, his phone rang.
"Hotchner....I'm actually busy at the moment but you can reach out to my Communications liason, Jennifer Jareau at the office....yes of course....goodbye."
"So you're names Hotchner?" you inquired, wanting to talk about something to keep your mind off the stinging pain.
"Aaron. Hotchners my last name."
"Nice to meet you Aaron. I'm Y/N," you greeted, offering your hand for a shake. He took it with a small smile and shook it gently.
"I wish it was under different circumstances but I'm glad you're safe."
"Thanks to you. I appreciate you by the way. You handled the situation really well."
He did that half smile again and played with his hands, almost nervously.
"Well unfortunately I deal with a lot of high stress situations like that so it was almost second nature."
"Cop?" you prodded, wanting to know if there was any truth to the rumors.
"FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit to be specific."
He didn't go into anymore detail than that but that was more than enough for you. So he's an Federal Agent. You literally couldn't have picked a better neighbor to run to.
- - - -
After the paramedic was done cleaning you up and you gave your report to the officer, Aaron came over, hanging up the phone.
"I know the house is technically not yours but he won't be back anytime soon and I'm sure you need to get cleaned up and everything. I'm gonna give you my card, I wrote my personal cell number in case you need anything but also feel free to come over if my car is in the driveway."
You took the card, reading his slightly sloppy writing and nodded with a smile.
"Thank you again Aaron. Really, you're a lifesaver."
He pulled you in for another hug, surprising you but you accepted it happily.
"No strenuous activity until those cuts and bruises heal," he advised seriously, making you laugh. You both pulled away and it took you a second to actually walk away, not really wanting to leave the comfort of his safe presence but you did and went back into the house, ignoring all of the mess and taking a long needed shower, thinking about everything that happened.
485 notes · View notes
multi-kpop-fanfics · 2 days ago
Text
hentai lover
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: alien!seungcheol x camgirl!reader
genre: smut, porn without plot. minors dni.
warnings: monsterfucking, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, monster cock!cheol, brat!reader, mean dom!cheol, mentions of pornographic platforms (onlyfans) and related content (hentai), pussy slapping, unprotected sex, degradation, cum play, masturbation, squirting, facefucking, unrealistic amounts of cum, mentions of breeding, tentacle manipulation, use of sex toys, use of petnames (darling, doll, daddy) reader is dressed as a succubus, cheol is MAD jealous
word count: 1.9k
summary: despite having transitioned from strangers to fuckbuddies to sort of situationship, the experimental phase between you and seungcheol seems to never end.
Author's note: happy halloween everyone! tentacle alien!cheol is back 🤭this fic belongs in the same universe as vodka slime and the kraken's girl, so reading those for extra context is wholeheartedly suggested!
p.s.: the title is cringy but i like it lmao
©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2024. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.
Tumblr media
You turn off the camera on the nightstand, your breath still not back to its normal rate. Your legs aren’t quite tired, despite the back to back orgasms you forced upon yourself - all for the sake of your content.
You won’t lie though, opening an OnlyFans account after the grand success of your Twitter nsfw account (thanks to Seungcheol and his openness to your sexual endeavors) was one of the best decisions you could have made.
You have managed to make a few more bucks and it has made your everyday life and content creating much easier.
But it has also made Seungcheol more….impatient.
“I cannot believe you still want to make solo content when I am right here,” Seungcheol huffs in annoyance, “How do these toys even satisfy you?”
“Don’t worry, Cheol - I still adore your big, fat cock and anything else on your body that can be used to fuck me,” You wink at him and stretch your legs to clean up your lower half, a low hiss escaping your lips, “Besides, I need to make content for my account - more content, more money!”
“I mean, sure….” He walks over to your desk and looks at the various toys with disdain, “But seriously? These?”
“Seungcheol, we are not going to discuss this again!” You scoff at him.
“Yes, we will,” Seungcheol picks up your pink glittery silicone dildo, “Cute, but boring.”
“Fuck you, that was my first ever toy!” You whine in protest.
“Still boring. Next,” he picks up the all too familiar neon tentacle dildo, “Literally a personal attack.”
“But that was the reason you showed me your own tentacles the first time we met.” 
“Hm, fair enough, but it will never be the real thing.”
“Ugh, just move on already!”
“This one seems interesting,” Seungcheol looks at the deep red colored, knotted dildo with curiosity, “But nowhere near close to mine.”
“It was perfect for the Halloween theme! Werewolves during their rut are hot, especially when they are all about breed-”
“Moving on,” he clears his throat and stops at the last toy - an extra large, horse cock shaped dildo, “Is this your new toy, darling?”
“Indeed, it was my newest purchase for my Halloween video,” you cross your arms in front of your chest, “It was a popular request from my audience.”
“Yeah, you made quite the show earlier,” he licks his lips, “Emptied the entire cumtube with that one.”
“Aww, you’re jealous!” You giggle as you swipe the towel over your pussy.
“Yeah, I’m really fucking jealous, Y/N.” Seungcheol drops the toy on the desk and climbs over you, “I am jealous of the fact that I have a hot girl dressed like a succubus right in front of me, all prepped up to take whatever I can give her, but she prefers fake toys over me.”
“You’re really hot when you’re mad, Kraken.” You bite your bottom lip.
“You’re really arousing when you’re being bratty, doll.” He grins like an imp.
“Am I really bratty right now?” You press your lips in a pout.
“The brattiest little sex demon I’ve ever seen in my life.” 
Seungcheol kisses you with the fervor of a starved animal, messily swirling his tongue inside your mouth. Silently watching you record a video for your account has made him extremely impatient, extremely horny and most of all, extremely mad.
“Mmf- Hah, Cheol,” you slightly push him back with giggles, “Slow down, you fucker!”
“No can do, doll.” He grabs your wrist with his hand and snaps his fingers with the other, two tentacles ripping the fabric of his shirt and appearing from his back. He effortlessly commands them to wrap around your wrists and keep them pinned above your head.
“Not the tentacles- Hey, stop cheating!” You attempt to fight back, but the slimy appendages are way stronger than you.
“All is fair in love, sex and war.” Seungcheol chuckles as he rips his t-shirt to reveal the rest of his upper body.
“That’s what you said the first time we fucked.” You grumble.
“Oh, so you remember. Guess you didn’t fuck yourself completely stupid with those ugly toys.” He grips the back of your thighs and pushes them flat on your chest, getting a full view of your exposed holes. His eyes narrow down at your rim, adorned with a devil tail butt plug.
“Even a devil tail plug?”
“What’s the point of cosplaying if it’s not accurate?” You smirk.
“Just say you wanted something to fill your greedy holes.” He snaps his fingers again and two more tentacles wrap around your ankles, stretching your legs to their maximum capacity.
He uses his thumbs to spread your lower lips and plays around with your hole, making you whimper. More of the fake cum you used earlier gushes out of your hole and Seungcheol grimaces.
“Just how much of that shitty stuff did you use?” He slides his middle and ring finger inside your pussy, pumping them slowly to push out more cum.
“As m-much as I wanted to!” You arch your back, “Why are you so mad about it?!”
“I’m mad because I want to fuck you so bad until you pass out.” The blond man nearly moans, his hands now untying the string of his sweatpants, sliding them down along with his boxers.
“You see this, doll?” Seungcheol wraps his hand around his cock, “It’s all your fault, all because of your little show and that fucking costume,” he hungrily eyes the leather micro skirt that you deliberately pulled higher on your body, the leather harness around your tits and the black sheer thigh high stockings, “It’s driving me insane.”
“Why don’t you stick your thick, meaty cock in my cute little pussy, then?” You use your cute voice on purpose, “You cleaned me inside out just to fill me up with your own, real cum, didn’t you, Daddy?”
You notice how hard he’s entertaining the possibility you’re presenting him and you mentally run victory laps when you see his composure fall apart even more. Alas, your moment of triumph is short-lived when you see him snap his fingers again, summoning more tentacles.
“As much as I want to give in to your words, you must be taught a lesson, little brat.” He climbs directly over your torso, the tip of his cock ghosting your lips.
You cry out when multiple tentacles target your pussy, one circling your clit and and two more thrusting inside you. Your mouth is agape, arousal clouding your senses.
“Fuuuuck, they feel so good, Daddy.” You say with a lewd voice.
“You look just like a hentai girl right now,” Seungcheol grips your hair, “And I am so ready to fuck your mouth like one.”
He pushes his cock in your mouth and knocks the breath out of your lungs. His sheer size makes you gag almost violently, to the point he has to pull back and let you breathe.
“Ha, hah, fuck, warn a woman before sticking it in!” You complain.
“Aw, the camgirl is struggling to suck a cock?” He fake coos at you, “What a crying shame.”
“C-Can you at least not try to kill me?” 
He gently runs the back of his hand over your cheek.
“I would never.”
Seungcheol carefully slides his cock back in your mouth, slowly guiding your head over the shaft. Searing hot tears stream down your face as you slobber all over his length, your limbs going numb from being stretched out for so long and your throat seems to follow suit, with all the effort you’re putting in to not choke on the man’s dick.
He thrusts his hips forward at a steady pace, enjoying the sight of your cheeks covered in tears, hollowing to suck him off harder.
“You’re trying so hard, it’s almost adorable.” He takes out his cock again to slap the tip over your cheeks
“I hate you.” You sob, struggling to keep your thoughts from scattering all over the place.
“Keep telling yourself that.” He smirks and threads both of his hands in your hair, using it as leverage to fuck your face.
The tentacles that were binding your ankles now move right under your knees to let the blood flow down again, but the tentacles occupying your pussy are as relentless as ever. Your walls clench around them as if a real cock was stretching you out, pounding you into next week. 
Your whiny moans are muffled thanks to Seungcheol drilling his shaft down your throat, trying to let him know that you’re getting closer to your orgasm.
“You’re close, aren’t you, doll?” He asks you as he pulls out again, letting you breathe and cry out in pleasure.
“Yes, yes, please Cheollie, please make me cum, please!” You whimper, begging him to do as you want.
“I said that you need to be taught a lesson.” He reprimands you and gets up from the bed to move between your legs again, right where his tentacles are still ramming inside you.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I won’t ignore you again, I promise!” You admit out loud, your nails digging in your palms.
“Apology accepted. But I’m still not going to stick my thick, meaty cock in your cute little pussy and fuck you, doll.” Seungcheol wraps his hand around his cock to pump himself, a string of curses and groans spilling from his lips. With another snap of his fingers, all of the tentacles are pulled away and he’s back to looking like a normal human again.
“No! Please, I was almost there!” You scream at him and writhe on the bed, your orgasm slowly ebbing away.
He throws your legs over his shoulders and shuts you up with his right palm pushed flush on your lips, folding you in half. 
“I said I won’t fuck you. I never said I wouldn’t fill you up with some real cum.” 
You look at him with shock when he slams his cock inside you and he finally cums, spilling every single drop he was holding this entire time. Your thighs shake harder than they did during your filming and your eyes nearly roll in the back of your skull.
“Ah, fuck….” he moans loudly, “Missed that so fucking bad.”
You gently push Seungcheol’s hand away to take deep breaths, your mind still blank from the sensory overload. As soon as he pulls out and his cum flows out, you gasp and start rubbing your clit in rapid circles.
“Doll-”
“Shut up.” You hiss, continuing to rub your cunt and reach your climax. Two harsh slaps on top of your clit are enough to make you squirt all over the sheets, juices coating your asscheeks and inner thighs.
Seungcheol watches you with amusement as your body rests on the ruined mattress, still in the post-sex daze.
“You never cease to amaze me, Y/N.” He lies down next to you.
“I know,” you chuckle, “I’m amazed too.”
He rolls on his side to grab your face with his hand and press a chaste kiss on your mouth, but you slap his chest playfully.
“My little hentai girl.”
“Jesus, stop with that stupid nickname!” You hide your face behind your palms.
“Why?” He pries your hands apart, “I think it suits you.”
“You’re so dumb.”
“Admit it, you enjoy being called that, deep down.”
“Someone is a little too obsessed with the idea.”
“I’m obsessed with you, Y/N.”
You grin widely at him.
“Likewise, hentai lover.”
419 notes · View notes
capuccinodoll · 3 days ago
Text
Honey love, dark eyes
Tumblr media
♡ Chapter one ♡
Summary: Joel Miller has been your best friend for four years, and your trust in him is as solid as ever. However, things go awry one night after a heated argument, and you find yourself in a position you never thought you'd be in: naked, underneath him, with his eyes devouring you like there's no tomorrow. And when you wake up the next morning, you know it right away, reality piercing your chest; things will never be the same again.
Word count: 9.4K
A/N: Okay, I was planning for the first chapter to be 4K words MAX, but my imagination went crazy with this lol I really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing this <3 don't forget to leave feedback, tell me what you think!
If you want to be on the tag list, let me know too.
You met him on the night of your twenty-second birthday, at the small party Cassie had put together for you in her dimly lit apartment. You hadn’t wanted much of a celebration, nothing bigger than a few close friends, and certainly not a group of strangers. But when Brianna swept in, holding hands with a man you didn’t know, and introduced him as her boyfriend, you felt a vague flicker of annoyance, the kind that accompanies unmet expectations.
"I thought it was just going to be us," you mumbled to Cassie, catching her in the kitchen as she poured herself another glass of wine.
She looked at you, her cheeks already flushed, eyes bright. "They're a few of my friends, too; they’re nice—you’ll like them if you give it a chance." She smiled, urging you to relax, as though she could tease you out of your mood. "It’s your birthday; don’t be so sullen."
"I didn’t know Brianna was bringing her boyfriend," you said quietly, as Cassie started back to the living room.
She paused, giving you a half-smile over her shoulder. "Neither did I, actually," she admitted, lowering her voice. "Apparently, they've been together for about a month. She’s really into him."
And she was. Brianna clung to him all night, her laughter spilling out freely, unrestrained and buoyant from the wine. It wasn’t long before someone suggested karaoke, and as voices rang out in the next room, you slipped quietly back into the kitchen, craving a moment of solitude. You were surprised to find Brianna’s boyfriend there, leaning against the counter, scrolling absently through his phone with a glass of water in hand.
He looked up, straightened, and offered you a tentative smile. “Oh, hi. Happy birthday,” he said, his voice warm but reserved. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier…”
“No worries,” you replied, your tone reassuring. “Thanks.”
He hesitated, as though weighing what to say next. “Are you having a good time?”
You gave a slight shrug. “It’s…” but before you could finish, he cut in with a knowing smile.
“It’s okay. I don’t love my birthday either.” His eyes glinted in the soft kitchen light, and you felt a small smile tugging at your own lips.
You looked at him then, really looked at him, allowing yourself the indulgence. “I didn’t want to admit it,” you said, feeling the faintest hint of heat rising to your cheeks. “What was your name again?”
“Joel,” he answered, his gaze drifting briefly back to his phone. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge tonight. Left my daughter with a new babysitter. I think she’s having a rough time.”
Your eyebrows rose in mild surprise; you hadn’t pegged him as a dad. You moved closer, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and asked, “How old is she?”
“Four. Her name’s Sarah.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you could tell he was tense. “It’s only the second time she’s been with this sitter, and apparently, she’s been crying all evening.”
“Oh, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically. “She’s little. Changes like that must be hard on her.”
He sighed, his gaze drifting to the side as he typed something quickly on his phone. “I should probably get going. Brianna won’t love that idea; we’d planned to stay out…” He paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours, worry etched across his face. “You think she’ll be too mad?”
“No,” you assured him, though you knew Brianna wouldn’t be pleased. “Go be with your daughter. She’s little; she needs you. Brianna will understand.”
A grateful smile spread across Joel’s face, and for the first time, you noticed the faint dimple on his cheek. For a fleeting second, you wanted to reach out, trace it with your thumb.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt unintentional, yet steady. “I hope your night gets better once karaoke is over,” he added with a quiet laugh. "Wish me luck."
You chuckled, meeting his gaze. “Good luck, Joel.”
He left with that same soft smile, and you watched him go, his warm brown eyes leaving an odd impression, like an unclaimed memory. And, as expected, Brianna didn’t understand. She spent the rest of the night sulking, casting sharp words at Joel through her bitterness.
“You knew he had a daughter when you got with him, this was bound to happen at some point,” Cassie told her, fed up with the other's complaints.
You didn't hear the answer, as you were distracted by watching the colorful pictures someone had put on the television.
You heard nothing more from Joel for a couple of weeks, until Cassie blurted out the gossip one morning while you were having lunch at her house.
“He broke up with her,” she began to tell you. “He told her she wasn't being empathetic and that he couldn't drop everything to party with her as if they had no responsibilities.”
It was no surprise. Brianna was a woman who lived at night; she was twenty-three years old and enjoyed it with the freedom that was rightfully hers. You couldn't blame her for wanting to have fun with her boyfriend. But Joel lived a very different reality than she did; at twenty-eight, he had a daughter to take care of, routines to follow, and a lot of work to do.
Although you thought it would take her longer to get over him, it wasn't long before she met a guy at her gym and got into it with him, outgrowing Joel in a matter of days. But for some reason, Joel’s warm, steady gaze stayed with you, like a whisper that hadn’t fully faded.
Years passed quietly, slipping through your fingers like sand until, suddenly, it was your twenty-sixth birthday. This time, the scene was different: you’d moved into your own place just two days earlier, and there was little thought of celebrating. Instead, the weekend found you alone, arranging your things and attempting to bring order to the chaos of a new home.
It was a crisp Saturday morning, and you stood in your front yard with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in hand, humming along to some eighties tune drifting in from the living room. The song—one of those upbeat ones that made even housework feel light—had lifted your spirits, and you moved rhythmically as you pushed plastic flowers into the dirt along the front path, sending little puffs of air to make the petals flutter.
You were lost in your task when you heard soft footsteps behind you, instinctively making you turn.
“Oh, hello,” you said, quickly masking the slight surprise the girl’s sudden appearance had given you.
She looked at you with wide, curious eyes, seemingly unfazed by her solo adventure.
“Hi. What’s your name? Do you live here?” she asked, her gaze shifting from your face to the flowers in your hands.
Glancing around for any sign of her parents, you noted her relaxed stance, like she’d been coming here all her life. Smiling, you nodded and gave her your name. “Yep, I just moved in.”
She looked unimpressed. “This house was empty for a while. I didn’t like the kid who lived here before. He was a pain in the ass—”
“Sarah!” came a sharp voice from behind, making you jump slightly. Heavy footsteps approached, and you squinted against the sun to see a figure striding toward you, his features obscured by the bright morning light.
When he stepped closer, his face came into focus, and your breath caught. You knew him.
“Sarah, you can’t just leave the house like that,” he said sternly, a furrow in his brow, his tone more parental than reproachful.
He turned to you, and the scowl softened as recognition dawned.
“Joel,” you murmured, the name slipping out before you even meant to say it aloud.
His expression shifted into a surprised smile, and that was all it took to break the ice between you. You explained that you’d just moved in and were still settling. Joel offered to help with anything you needed, including taking a look around the house to ensure everything was in order. He formally introduced you to Sarah, now eight years old, who had nearly scared him to death by sneaking out. She had his same lively spark in her eyes, a brightness that seemed familiar.
That evening, Sarah invited you to dinner with them, leaving Joel with little choice but to agree. And one dinner became many, as evenings blurred into weekends, and you found Joel’s presence in your life weaving into something inseparable from your routine. He started popping by to help with small projects, fixing kitchen cabinets or adjusting the wobbly front steps, visits stretching into movie marathons or lazy conversations with cold beer in hand. Days flowed into evenings of chatting over the meals you cooked to share with Sarah, and sometimes her uncle Tommy. Though Joel claimed he was no cook, his barbecues were legendary, and you couldn’t deny you looked forward to them most of all. And soon enough, he was there for everything, from driving you to doctor’s appointments to accompanying you on those grocery runs he pretended to hate. He even started showing up early on days he knew you’d need a ride. Over time, he became the best friend you’d ever had, a safe place, someone who felt like family. With everyone else scattered—Cassie overseas, old friends moved away—Joel became your rock.
It wasn’t something you dared to admit to yourself often, but you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And maybe that’s why you never allowed yourself to voice those little fleeting thoughts, the ones that flitted through your mind every now and then: how safe you felt whenever he threw his arm around your shoulders, or how good he looked reclining on his couch after a long day. Or how perfect it felt when the three of you—Sarah dozing on his lap, you leaning into his shoulder—sat together in the warm silence of a Sunday afternoon. There was an ache, too, a quiet pang whenever he mentioned another woman. Thankfully, that was rare; Joel once told you, with a shrug, that he “wasn’t really looking for that sort of thing.”
Sometimes, you watched him carefully as you talked about your own dates, hoping to catch a glimmer of jealousy in his gaze, some subtle cue that maybe he felt the same way. But there was never anything you wanted to see, and you always felt silly for looking. So, you buried it all. The risk of ruining things with Joel wasn’t worth the confession.
One afternoon, however, your emotions almost escaped your eyes when, while preparing Joel's birthday cake, Sarah dropped a piece of news that caught you off guard. She told you, with her usual nonchalance, that Joel had gone out the night before with someone new.
“Yeah, it’s like… the third time they’ve gone out,” Sarah mentioned while spreading cream on the sponge cake. “I don’t know her name or anything, just that he met her in line at the bank,” a laugh choked in her throat, amused at imagining her father flirting with some woman in a public space.
You forced a smile, laughing along like it was funny.
"And who stayed with you last night?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.
Not that Sarah was necessarily a baby; she was already twelve and extremely independent. But Joel never left her alone if he went out for the night, he knew how much she loved spending time with you watching movies and eating junk food. Then, when he arrived, you would pester him with gossipy questions and he would pretend to get angry and then answer every one of them.
“Uncle Tommy," she said, eyeing her work with satisfaction. “We had fun, but I kinda wished you’d come too. Hey, what do you think?” she fingered the cream neatly arranged with the angled knife.
“It's perfect,” you smiled at her, not waiting too long to ask the question you wanted so badly. “Why didn't you call me then?”
Sarah started sprinkling colorful sprinkles on top of the cream and looked at you for a second when she noticed the tone in your voice at the last word. She didn't seem to think much of it.
“You were busy, weren't you? Dad said you had something to do.”
Her answer hit you like a small weight to the chest. Joel had purposefully left you out. He’d even made an excuse for Sarah’s benefit. So, there had been three dates—three times he’d kept this woman a secret. A small knot formed in your stomach as you forced yourself to smile, still watching Sarah as she concentrated on the last of the sprinkles.
In the kitchen, you were running your hand through the steam from the beef stew on the stove—Joel’s favorite—when the door opened. His footsteps grew louder, approaching, and you nervously adjusted the dress you’d chosen, one you knew he liked, though he’d never said it. It was your favorite too, a cream-colored sundress with delicate shoulder ties.
Sarah sprang forward, covering his eyes. “Don’t look, the table’s not ready.”
You hurried to set the glasses in their places, your hands a little shaky as you moved, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up your cheeks.
“I don’t need to see it—I can smell it, and it smells incredible,” Joel grinned beneath Sarah’s tiny hands, which she’d plastered over his eyes, half to keep him from sneaking a glance, half just because she could.
“Too bad you don’t smell incredible,” Sarah retorted with a smirk, wrinkling her nose. "Go take a shower!"
You laughed, catching Joel’s raised brow at her.
“You’ve got five minutes,” you said, placing the lid on the simmering pot.
Joel snorted, brushing Sarah’s hands away from his face.
“That’s the smell of a hardworking man,” he replied, feigning offense as he turned for the stairs. “Y’all oughtta know.”
*
Later, the three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.
“Sweet Glory,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this.”
“Oh, come on,” you teased, though part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. “You say that every time I cook for you.”
He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his gaze slipping downward.
“I’m not exaggerating—I love everything you do.” A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. “I mean, everything you cook.”
The clarification was like a line drawn in the sand, a boundary etched by his voice alone.
You smiled weakly and inwardly thankful when Sarah spoke, telling you about something that had happened at her school that week and distracting you from the question that was spellbinding your tongue. You were dying to ask it, to look him in the eye and ask: who did you go out with last night? Why didn't you tell me? Is it someone I know? Is that it?... But you didn't, you stayed quiet and participated in the pleasant conversation, celebrating his birthday as he deserved. After all, no matter how much it angered you that he kept things from you, it was still his special day.
After dinner, Sarah forced Joel to sit in front of his cake, two lit number candles glowing in front of him. You turned out the lights, watching as the light from the flames reflected beautifully in your best friend's dark pupils.
Joel was wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his hair was still barely damp from the shower he'd taken before, and his sun-kissed tan face looked smooth, decorated by the beard and mustache you loved so much. Behind him, his shadow vibrated and spread across the wall with grandeur.
“Make a wish!” Sarah cheered, bouncing with excitement as she placed her small hands on his shoulders.
Joel smiled, closed his eyes, and blew out the candles. In the dimness, you leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.
“Happy birthday, old man,” you whispered, your hand resting gently on his neck.
He reached for your hand, pressing a warm, lingering kiss into your palm. “I’m not that old,” he muttered with a mock frown.
Sarah giggled, holding a knife to cut the cake and licking a dab of frosting from her thumb. “You’ll be forty in four years,” she teased, catching your amused expression.
Joel scoffed, scratching his stomach as he stood back up, turning to you with a smile that made you forget, just for a moment, all the questions you were holding back. There was only Joel, his rumbling laugh, Sarah’s delighted giggles. It felt like home.
Sarah gave him his gift first: a copy of Curtis and Viper 2 with the deleted scenes and a mystery box. When he opened it, a smile formed on his lips.
He pulled out a weathered wristwatch, broken for months, now polished and repaired.
“I took it in to be fixed. Do you like it?” Sarah asked, eyes wide with anticipation.
Joel nodded, eyes softening as he extended his wrist for her to put it on. “It’s perfect, baby.”
“Let's watch the movie later,” Sarah said. “You can't fall asleep.”
“Let's see which one of us falls asleep first,” you joked, and you were right. Joel had been working all afternoon and Sarah had been yawning for hours.
You turned and picked up the box resting beside your feet, handing it to him. When he opened it, Joel pulled out a black cloth garment and a paper envelope. He tugged at the cloth, revealing a thick, soft jacket. He read the label and a smile appeared on his lips.
“I saw it and thought of you,” you said, mimicking his gesture.
“How much did you pay for this?”
“Don't worry about it, it had to be yours,” you noted as you stood up and took it from his hand. “Here, stand up. Let's see how it fits you.”
“And what if it doesn't fit? Do we have to travel to Rome to exchange it?”
You laughed, then helped him slide it over his shoulders, a comfortable, familiar movement.
“I know you by heart, I couldn't be wrong.”
“So?” he asked, smiling coquettishly. Your stomach tingled and you decided to ignore it.
“Lookin’ good, Dad,” Sarah chimed in, her innocent smile lighting up the moment. “Bet someone special will love it, too.”
Joel smiled weakly, as if he was trying to tell her something with his eyes, and for a second you hated the thought of your gift being enjoyed by someone else. You imagined him getting ready to go out with her -whoever she was-, running his hand through his hair and perfuming his neck as he did from time to time whenever he went out with someone. You knew that perfume perfectly, you'd recognize it anywhere, though you were sure it wouldn't smell the same on anyone else. Joel added his own scent to it, and you loved it.
“Okay, now, open the envelope,” you urged, your voice unintentionally sharper than you meant.
Joel sat back down and opened the blue paper envelope. He read the note carefully and when he looked up, you and Sarah were looking at him excitedly.
“Sunshine, did you pay for this?” he asked you, a soft disbelief in his tone.
Inside were three plane tickets. Sarah had helped you pick the destination—somewhere none of you had been but would love.
When you nodded, he let out a soft sigh. “Let me cover part of it.”
You groaned, rolling your eyes. “It’s my birthday gift to you, Joel. It’s all settled. You need a vacation, and we certainly do too, don't we?”
“That's right,” Sarah confirmed, smiling complicitly.
He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re too good to me.”
But he smiled, tucking the tickets back into the envelope.
Time with Joel and Sarah was easy. When you were with them, hours slipped away, and the heaviness of everything else seemed to dissolve. You felt at home, and sometimes it left you wondering about Sarah’s mother, about how anyone could have left them. Didn’t she see how extraordinary they were? Didn’t she realize what she’d lost?
You thought about this as you relaxed on the couch beside Joel, Sarah curled up with her head on your shoulder. Her breathing had slowed, and you smiled, realizing she’d fallen asleep. Three glasses sat on the coffee table: the wine Joel had opened just before dinner—a bottle you’d brought back from your last trip to Italy—and Sarah’s lemon soda. Joel snorted softly, glancing at his daughter with a smirk, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Fallen soldier,” he whispered, smiling.
You laughed, brushing a hand over Sarah’s hair. “She’s tired. She was up all afternoon making your cake, you know? Tried the cream three times before she got it right.”
Joel sighed, an apologetic note in his voice. “I know, sorry I was late. I know she wanted me here sooner.”
Curtis and Viper 2 was halfway through on the TV, forgotten in the background. Joel straightened, signaling he’d take Sarah to bed, and you shifted to make room as he lifted her, carrying her toward the stairs. You watched him disappear down the hallway, and as the house fell into a quiet lull, that familiar disappointment stirred in your chest. Now, without Sarah’s chatter, you’d have to keep pretending that nothing was wrong.
You took a long sip of your wine, finishing off the glass just as Joel returned. He sat down heavily beside you, causing the cushions to sink as he let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes before giving you a grateful look.
“Thanks for today, I had a great time. Sarah was very happy,” he said quietly, a warm smile appearing on his lips.
“I'm glad, hun. Although the credit goes to her, I just made dinner.”
“Doesn’t matter. You helped her, and I’m grateful. I mean that. For today, and for… all these years.” His voice softened, almost reverent.
“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered, feeling your pulse pick up as he leaned closer, his brown eyes unreadable but soft. “You’re my family, both of you. Really, I’m the one who owes you thanks.”
He shook his head and leaned back, taking another sip of his wine.
“Not at all,” he replied, leaning back again.
You watched him for a moment, turning the weight of your question over in your mind. If you said something, he’d make an excuse. If you kept silent, the doubt would eat at you. You tried to fix your gaze on the TV, on anything other than his profile in the dim room. But the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.
“So, what did you do last night?”
He tensed beside you, so subtly that only you could’ve noticed. “What?”
You tried to keep your tone even, hoping you didn’t sound like you’d spent all day thinking about it. “I just… didn’t see your truck out there, thought maybe you were gone or something.” It was a lie; you had fallen asleep on your couch last night, you hadn't even noticed Joel was gone.
Joel seemed to measure his words carefully. “Oh. Yeah… I just went out for a beer with Tommy,” he answered, his tone a little too casual.
Heat crept up your face, disbelief taking root. He really was holding out on you for some reason, wasn't he? The man was lying to you, and not very cleverly. Tommy had been with Sarah, what if you had seen him, hadn't he thought of that? Apparently not. 
It took a moment before you could bring yourself to say anything, watching as he glanced at you with an uneasy smile, waiting for you to believe him.
“Joel,” you murmured, not quite able to keep the accusation out of your voice. “You’re lying to me.”
He gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, but you didn’t let him off so easily. Before he could say anything, you spoke again.
“Tommy was with Sarah last night, here,” you pointed out, your voice firmer this time. His silence told you everything, his face drawn and uncertain as he realized you’d caught him.
After a long pause, he looked down, his voice unusually flat. “Alright, yeah. I know.”
The admission was so casual it took you by surprise, but you shook your head, feeling the ache of frustration and betrayal creep in.
“Why would you lie to me?” you pressed. “We’re friends. Why wouldn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone?”
Joel sighed, avoiding your gaze, his eyes instead locked somewhere in the distance. “It’s… it’s nothing serious,” he mumbled. “Just getting to know her. Don't make such a fuss out of it.”
“What? what you're saying doesn't make sense. You’ve kept it hidden, avoided every chance to be honest about it. Why?” you asked, trying not to let the hurt seep into your voice.
“It’s not like that,” he insisted, but his voice sounded unsure.
“So if I call Tommy right now, he’ll tell me the truth? Or did you ask him to keep this from me too?”
Finally, he met your gaze, his eyes scanning your face, reading the frustration and hurt you’d tried to keep buried. You could see it in his eyes, that familiar tug of defiance, a flash of something deeper than guilt or secrecy.
“What if I did?” His voice was almost philosophical, his gaze intense and challenging. “This is my private life. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, not even you. Do I?”
You drew in a sharp breath. His words struck like a slap, but you steadied yourself. “You’re right, Joel. You don’t owe me explanations. But you don’t have to lie to me, either.” You looked down, feeling your voice start to waver. “You’ve never hidden your relationships from me before.”
He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and slumping back against the couch.
After a few seconds, he finally looked at you, a look of exasperation crossing his face.
“Because of this.” He gestured between you, his tone gentle but firm. “This reaction, right here, is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
What Joel was saying didn’t make sense. Your frustration wasn’t over him seeing someone else; it was something else entirely, something more fundamental.
“Oh, just stop,” you snapped, voice sharp. “I’m not mad because you’re dating someone, Joel. I’m mad that you lied to me. They’re two completely different things.”
He took a breath, settling back on the couch, and turned to face you, a guarded expression crossing his face. “No, it’s always the same thing. Remember the last time I was seeing someone?”
And you did, briefly. A year ago, one of his friends had introduced him to his cousin—a woman who had just moved to town. She was polite enough, but her smiles had a brittle quality to them, and when she met Sarah, her warmth never extended beyond a single, dismissive greeting. The indifference was obvious, at least to you, and maybe you’d let that show a little too openly. Joel had caught on quickly, and after that, things with her fizzled out.
“That was different,” you argued, exasperated. “She wasn’t nice, Joel. She had zero interest in Sarah.”
He gave a bitter, half-smile. “Maybe, but it wasn’t your job to manage that. I can handle my own relationships. But you always—” he paused, thumping his chest with a finger, “you always step in. Always get defensive.”
“That’s not true!” Your voice rose as anger crept in, heating your face. “You’re just making excuses. Date whoever you want, Joel, I don’t care. But don’t lie to me, don’t insult me with these flimsy excuses. Or if you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.”
He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening, something fierce sparking in his eyes. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his voice low and measured, the words hanging between you like a dare.
“Sure about what?” Your brow creased in confusion, the pulse in your chest picking up, a flurry of anger and… something else you couldn’t place, mingling with the haze of the wine.
His eyes narrowed, holding yours, unflinching. “That you don’t care. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Because I know you, i know you to well to know you’re just jealous.”
Jealous. He thought you were jealous.
He had missed the point completely. Your feelings for him were complex, that much was true. But you had learned, or thought you had learned, to carry them quietly. Your friendship with him had come to feel like a sturdy house you could live inside without having to ask too much of it. Having him in your life was enough.
But now, you felt that house shift, cracks spreading through the walls. His inability to trust you hurt more deeply than you’d expected. The openness you’d once trusted was fracturing. You felt the sting of tears prick at your eyes, the words he’d thrown out so casually cutting to the quick.
“Fuck you, Joel,” you muttered, standing abruptly, storming to the door and slamming it shut behind you. You barely heard him call your name as you left, fury driving you down the front steps, the cool night air biting at your cheeks.
Honestly, he could go fuck himself.
Just as your hand reached your front door, his footsteps closed in behind you, his strides fast enough to catch up. You tried to close the door before he could reach you, but his hand caught it just in time, his voice heavy with irritation.
“Just go away, Joel,” you said, barely glancing at him. “I don’t want to see you again.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.” His voice was calm, almost pleading.
You stepped back, reluctantly letting him into the foyer. He’d have come in anyway.
“I mean it, God. Go home,” you insisted, your voice wavering, betraying the anger mixed with something else.
He shook his head, taking a few steps closer, his jaw tight. “Can we just talk?”
“Talk?” you repeated incredulously. “Talk about what? About how wrong you are?”
He didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened. “Don’t act like what I said was crazy,” he said, voice steady but a little sharper now.
You scoffed, throwing your hands up. “Oh, so now I’m jealous, is that it? Then, by your logic, you must’ve been jealous too, right? Like last month, when Travis asked me out. Because if that’s the case, then we’re having the same conversation, aren’t we?”
Joel clicked his tongue, tilting his head with an exaggerated sigh. “No, Travis is just a jerk. And I don’t like him, plain and simple.”
Travis Dunn, your neighbor, had moved in a few months after you did. Handsome, tall, and friendly, everyone on the street adored him—everyone except Joel. He couldn’t seem to stand him, though Travis was always polite to him.
Last month, when Travis had asked you out, Joel had practically laughed in your face when you told him about it, muttering something dismissive as if the very idea was absurd. You’d told Travis you were busy, though deep down you knew the real reason you hadn’t accepted was because of Joel’s disapproval.
“Then everyone’s as much of an idiot as he is, sunshine.”
You shook your head, exasperated. “Travis isn’t a jerk, Joel, you just don’t like him. He’s nice, honestly, much nicer than some people, if we’re being honest here. Everyone loves him; you’re the only one who has a problem with him.”
“Oh, really? Or maybe… you’re jealous of him?” Your tone was teasing, but you felt the shift as soon as you said it.
Joel’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, shaking his head slowly, twice.
“No?” you shot back, voice edged with challenge. “So if I go tomorrow and say yes to him, that wouldn’t bother you at all, right?”
“Don’t turn this on me,” he said. “This isn’t about Travis or me.”
He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark with something you’d never seen in him before. The air seemed to thicken, his presence so intense it felt as though it wrapped around you. He leaned in, his face close enough that his words brushed your skin.
“You can do whatever you want, baby. It’s your fucking life.”
“And you can do whatever you want too, Joel. That’s the fucking point!” you nearly shouted, hands pushing against his shoulders, shoving him away. “I don’t care what you do! It’s already clear you don’t get it, you don’t get anything, ANYTHING!”
Joel staggered back for a split second, but it wasn’t long before he closed the distance again, though he didn’t get as close this time.
His voice was lower, a thread of something hard in his tone. “If you’re so insulted by the idea of being jealous, maybe that’s something for you to think about. Ever thought of doing a little introspection?”
“Are you drunk, Joel?” you asked, eyes narrowed, softening your voice a fraction. The argument was exhausting you, and the anger left you feeling hollow.
He laughed, an odd, choked sound. “Oh, c'mon, you know one bottle of wine ain't enough to get me drunk.”
“Yeah, but you’re tired, and you’re not exactly young, Joel,” you said, brushing past him, his gaze glued to you the entire time. “Alcohol hits you differently now. Just go home, leave me alone.”
“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,” he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.
The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.
“What the hell did you just say, Joel?” you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. “Go on, say it again!”
Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. He’d never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.
But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didn’t understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.
Joel’s grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest. “I can’t stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,” he spat, voice laced with frustration. “Go fuck the whole neighborhood while you’re at it. I really don’t care anymore.”
His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from you—sharp and derisive. A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.
“What, did you ever care?” you asked, your voice trembling on the last syllable, thick with emotion.
But Joel didn’t respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.
“Do you know why we’re friends, Joel?” Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. “Because it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I don’t like you like that. You’re not even my type, and you never will be. And no, I’m not jealous that you’re dating some woman you’ll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!”
You watched as his gaze flickered between your eyes, uncertainty warring with something darker. Suddenly, with an unexpected strength, Joel tightened his grip on your wrist and pushed you back hard against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as your back hit the unforgiving surface.
His expression had transformed, those deep, dark eyes piercing you like arrows. His breath quickened, crashing against your face, and you could feel your lower lip tremble as he pressed even closer, pinning you against the wall.
“You don’t know how to lie,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing against your cheek.
The sensation was unbearable; his body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him and melting you inside. You could feel the edge of something primal, something that could tip either way. But suddenly, clarity surged through you. With a burst of strength, you pushed him away, breaking free from his grasp, forcing him to pull back just enough for you to gasp for air.
But the distance felt worse. In his eyes, you recognized something you’d never seen before—desire, raw and unfiltered. It clawed at you, igniting an inexplicable need. A sigh escaped your lips, and like a match struck in a dark room, it was enough to set off an explosion. In an instant, Joel lunged at you, and you found yourself wrapped around him, mouths colliding in a desperate kiss filled with moans and the urgency of your racing hearts.
With a loud thud, Joel kicked the front door shut, his hands moving feverishly down your body, fingers skimming your thighs, slipping beneath your dress. He caressed your skin before squeezing your ass hard, drawing a moan from your lips that echoed in the small space between you. You clung to him tighter, his hands fitting around you as if they were made for this very moment.
He pulled back for a breath, the sound wet and chaotic against the walls of your home, and then his lips descended down your neck, unraveling what little sanity you had left. A moan rumbled in his throat as your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back, giving him better access to the tender spot just below your ear, your blood pulsing beneath his hungry mouth.
Joel seemed to want to devour you whole; his hands roamed erratically, trembling as his mouth kissed and bit your jaw, pressing your bodies together in a way that felt impossibly intimate. When you lifted your right leg and wrapped it around his side, he was quick to respond, hands securing your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto his hips, burying his face against your chest.
Another moan escaped you, and he pulled you down just enough to find your lips again. “Joel,” you whispered, breathless as you parted from him, pressing your forehead against his, eyes searching his.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” he said, his voice low, almost broken, each word laced with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” you replied in a small, desperate cry, feeling the heat radiating from him, the thin fabric of your underwear igniting a fire deep within you.
You were dying of thirst, and he had just asked you if you would refuse a sip of water. Was he mad? You wanted to drink it all. 
No sooner had you answered than Joel pulled you off the wall, striding toward the stairs with a confident grace. You lowered your legs cautiously, meeting his lips again in a frantic, wet kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with urgency.
You walked to your room with the agility of one who knows where to step, and once inside, you grabbed the shirt you had angrily grabbed earlier and lifted it up his body in a desperate attempt to rip it off. Joel raised his arms, letting the fabric pass over both of you and then fall to the floor, and as quickly as your hands returned to his chest, he kissed your neck again, desperate, pressing his fingers into the tender flesh of your waist, seeking a physically impossible closeness. 
His hands found your thighs once more, fingers gripping and kneading with a measured intensity that sent electric shivers through you. As he moved lower, his fingertips brushed the thin fabric of your underwear, inching closer to where you ached for him, squeezing you tighter as if to draw you in.
In a single, decisive motion, he grasped the hem of your dress and pulled it upward, the fabric sliding along your skin as he lifted it away, tossing it aside with a casual disregard that only heightened the tension in the air. He took a step back, his gaze roaming over you, from the soft curve of your face down to the tips of your toes, a look of hunger that felt almost consuming.
You weren't wearing a bra (your dress didn't require it) and your breasts fell beautifully in front of him, hard nipples and soft skin. Your chest flushed with warmth, a rosy hue creeping into your cheeks as you swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated when he stepped closer.
“I’ve always loved that dress,” he said, his voice trembling with an emotion that was both reverent and raw.
“I know,” you replied, a smile curling at the corners of your lips, the moment igniting an intimacy that made your heart race.
His eyes swept down your body again, glittering with an unmistakable lust, and when he closed the distance, standing right before you, your breath caught in your throat.
His hands slid around your waist, firm yet tender, pulling you into him with a deftness that sent a thrill coursing through you. In one seamless motion, he lifted you off the ground, your feet barely grazing the floor as you instinctively stood on your tiptoes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.
Joel’s eyes darkened with a hunger that left you breathless, and he leaned in, his lips finding one of your breasts with a soft kiss that felt both electrifying and reverent. The warmth of his mouth sent a rush of heat through your body, and before you could gather your thoughts, he nipped your nipple gently, a teasing bite that sent chills racing across your skin.
His teeth grazed you just enough to elicit a gasp, a shuddering reaction that echoed in the space between you. But he didn’t linger on the sharpness of that moment; he quickly replaced the sensation with the soothing warmth of his lips, enveloping you entirely.
He sank to one knee, lowering himself until his lips brushed your stomach, the warm sensation sending ripples of desire coursing through you. His face lingered dangerously close to where you needed him most.
Joel placed his hands on your hips, fingers gripping the elastic of your underwear, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment that stretched into eternity before he slowly began to lower it, the fabric sliding down your legs and pooling at your feet. You felt his breath hitch at the sight of your now bare center, the anticipation thickening the air between you as he inched closer, finally brushing his lips against your mons pubis.
“Precious,” he murmured, and the warmth of his breath washed over you like a caress, drawing a small, needy moan from your lips. His hands parted your legs slightly, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you firmly in place.
You cupped his face gently, as if afraid you might break him, and then, without warning, Joel licked his lips and plunged forward, his mouth connecting with you in a surprise that made your eyes flutter shut. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer as he devoured you, his tongue working its magic as he sucked and kissed you whole, with an urgency that left you breathless.
He growled into you, the sound reverberating through your body, and you felt weakness seep into your legs, trembling under the weight of his relentless attention. Joel was eating you like a hungry man, tasting you and soaking in your juices with a fervor that felt primal, kissing you as if his life depended on it.
“Fuck,” you gasped, feeling every muscle in your body tighten as a building pressure coiled inside you.
He pulled away for just a moment, his eyes darkened with lust, a playful smile creeping onto his lips before he returned to you, closing his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking with a skill that made your head spin.
“Ah—Joel, I’m going to—I’m going to—” You struggled to articulate the intensity of what was building within you, your words stumbling over the tide of pleasure washing over you.
His voice vibrated through you, trailing off into a soft, “Mhm.”
You pulled at his hair, tugging harder as a wrenching moan escaped your throat. The world around you faded as his movements grew more frantic, his tongue flicking at you with a desperate fervor. One of his hands released your thigh, and a low groan escaped his lips as his finger found your entrance, sliding inside with an ease that made you gasp.
“Fuck me, you’re so wet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of you—your cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with lust. A satisfied smile broke across his face, and you thought he had never looked so gorgeous.
From your point of view, he looked beautiful. His bright eyes worshipped you intently, his mouth and mustache glistened bathed in you, his hair tossed by your hands mingled in all directions. Joel Miller had never looked so good.
Another finger joined the first, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he curled them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for air. You gripped his hair again, pulling him closer, and he let out a throaty laugh, clearly reveling in the sight of you completely undone.
You felt his mouth on you again, the warmth of his lips kissing and sucking with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The sound of it was utterly obscene, echoing around the room like a carnal symphony, and it drove you to the brink of madness, your mind spinning in a dizzying haze of pleasure.
His movements grew more intense, a rhythm building that sent waves of ecstasy rippling through your body. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your hips moving in desperate undulations, surrendering to the climax that Joel savored with unrelenting focus. Your fingers clenched around him, digging in perhaps a bit too hard, but he welcomed it, desperate to drink in every last drop of what you were offering, to savor you whole.
With a low grunt, he squeezed your hips before pulling away, the wet sound of his departure from you hanging heavy in the air. You barely registered his rise from the floor, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure, your eyes still closed as the vibrations coursed through you. It wasn’t until his hands gripped your waist that you finally blinked awake, lifting your eyelids to find him gazing down at you, his face mere inches from yours.
He leaned in, capturing your mouth again, a kiss that was both desperate and tender, igniting a fire deep within you. You could taste yourself on his tongue.
Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. As the intensity built, you let your fingers drift down his chest, trailing lightly until they found the leather of his belt, the sensation sending shivers through you as you tugged him closer.
Joel vibrated against you, a low growl escaping as he nipped at your lower lip while you fumbled with his steel buckle, the sound of it being released becoming your new favorite melody. You unzipped his pants, your heart racing as you slipped your hand inside, finally touching him for the first time.
Your pulse quickened as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat radiating from his velvet soft skin; big, hot and throbbing in your palm. A rush of desire flooded you, and you pulled away from his lips, dropping to your knees before him, your eyes wide as you took in his form. 
There he stood, beautiful and swollen with need, and your mouth watered at the sight. You cupped him gently, drawing him closer to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the tip. Joel closed his eyes at the sensation, surrendering to the moment completely, and you traced your tongue over him, tasting the salty sweetness of his pre cum that made your insides tighten with longing.
With a hint of effort, you attempted to take him fully into your mouth, but he was too large, stretching you in ways you hadn’t expected. Joel lowered his gaze to you, his fingers caressing your jaw as you struggled to adjust.
“Slow, baby,” he urged, his voice silky yet strained, and it sent another rush of need through you. "I know you can do it."
You matched your hand to your mouth, stroking him where you couldn’t quite reach, while your other hand gently caressed his balls, moving in a synchronized rhythm. Joel tensed beneath your touch, his fingers shifting from your face to tangle in your hair, guiding you as he reveled in the pleasure you were giving him.
The sounds in the room became a symphony of pleasure, every moan and gasp echoing off the walls, and you watched as Joel's pleasure climbed. The image was enough to drive him over the edge; your pink, swollen lips covered him and his cock glistened with your saliva, dripping from your chin with every move you made. Your teary eyes looked up at him desirously, and he could take no more; his gaze was filled with a primal hunger that threatened to unravel him. He finally withdrew from your mouth with great reluctance when he felt his stomach tighten, a low complaint escaping your throat in protest.
His breathing was heavy, and a flush colored his cheeks as he lifted you effortlessly, holding you at the waist, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. In one swift motion, he laid you back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moved closer; Joel kneeling and settling between your legs which you instinctively opened for him. 
You needed him, you needed him to fill you whole. You had never needed anything as much as you needed him at that moment. And as if he was reading your thoughts - or maybe he needed you as much as you needed him - he leaned in, taking your mouth with his once more, his moans blending with yours as he lost himself in you.
Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, the taste of him igniting a fire in your veins. You felt him positioning himself at your entrance, his heat pulsing against you, and an intense sigh shot through your chest as Joel entered you in one thrust, burning and stretching you around him. 
“Oh God,” he groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His right hand traveled to your left leg, lifting it and resting it high on his shoulder, while without hesitation, his other hand mirrored the movement with your right leg, bringing you into a position that felt both intimate and vulnerable. You were completely folded under him.
A cry escaped your lips as Joel began to move on top of you, his face hovering just inches above yours, the heat between you palpable. No one had ever penetrated you so deeply; it felt as though he was everywhere, filling you completely, every inch of you alive with sensation.
Joel's right hand gently squeezed your neck, seeking your mouth for a kiss as his movements took on a more urgent pace. The rhythmic collision of his hips against your buttocks created a beautiful sound that echoed off the walls, each thrust punctuated by the soft, desperate gasps that slipped from his mouth. Your own cries mingled with his as your body tightened again, your hands moving frantically up and down his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving little marks that he would surely wear like badges of pleasure. 
A broken sound escaped from Joel, raw and primal, as he sank his face into the crook of your neck once more, increasing his thrusts with a fervor that felt animalistic, as if the world outside had fallen away and this moment was all that mattered. He fucked you into the mattress with an intensity that left you breathless, as though he were trying to ground you both in this fleeting reality, where nothing else existed except for the two of you entwined together.
You melted around him, your juices mixing with his as you enveloped him completely, and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he lifted his head, your forehead resting against yours, his wide eyes locking into yours. You had never seen them so dark, so filled with intensity and strength.
And then it hit you: It was Joel, your Joel, the one who had been your best friend for four years, and here he was, fucking the life out of you like no one ever had before. What could possibly come after an experience like this?
“I thought you didn't like me,” he said, his voice choppy, strained with effort. A smirk played at the corners of his swollen lips. “Such a bad liar, baby, look at you.”
You growled in response, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him towards you with a mix of force and anger. Your lips found his in a kiss that was anything but patient, igniting a spark between you. You felt him tense above you, one of his hands quickly moving to your center, exerting immense pressure as he leaned his weight on his other arm, holding you captive beneath him.
His fingers found your clit, tracing gentle circles that made your back arch involuntarily, another wave of pleasure building inside you. Your mouth was still on his, consuming him completely, when your second orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. You felt your insides tighten around him, squeezing him with a ferocity that pulled him closer to his own climax.
Joel gasped into your mouth, and the intensity of it sent your vision spiraling into darkness for a brief moment, the sensation so strong it felt as if the world had collapsed around you. When your breathing finally steadied, you found his hot body pressed against yours, moving in tiny tremors, quickened breaths brushing against your jaw.
He stayed inside you for a few moments longer, savoring the closeness, your hands continuing to caress his back, each touch a silent promise. Then, slowly, he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling achingly empty, his cum trickling from your entrance.
He fell limply beside you, his body slick with sweat, and pulled you close to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His breaths, still heaving, crashed against your damp skin, wrapping you in warmth. Unable to muster the energy to move, you let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to a deep, exhausted sleep that you would not remember when you woke up...
No, you didn't remember any dream, Because when you opened your eyes the next morning, you stirred in place and your muscles ached pleasantly, reminding you of the night before. And as you stretched your arms across the bed, your fingers grazed the sheets, feeling an emptiness beside you.
When you looked to your sides, the realization hit you hard.
Joel was gone.
taglist: @orcasoul
472 notes · View notes
sivyera · 1 day ago
Text
Tumblr media
F1 and MotoGP drivers as love types
f1 - max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norriss
motogp - pecco bagnaia, enea bastianini, marc marquez, alex marquez, fabio quartararo, luca marini, marco bezzecchi, jorge martin, pedro acosta, david alonso
a/n: i hope you'll like it since not many people write for motogp nor f1, also don't worry i have more fics in mind just please be patient with me, i'm trying :) also should i add Rossi? i love him but he's retired so...
༺☆༻
⤷ Max Verstappen - you fell first but he fell harder
Tumblr media
when you met Max, you almost immediately fell in love. i mean he was talented, funny and very handsome. but he didn't seem to return such strong feelings for you, from the start. the more he spend time with you tho, the more he fell in love with you and before you could blink, he was DROWNING in his love for you!
he always has to have you near him, not only while racing, i mean always. you want to take a shower? he'll wash your hair. you want to go shopping? he'll hold your bags. but when he was racing, he needed to have at least 1 kiss and session of cuddles after. he can actually get pretty clingy when it comes to you, i mean you're his gorgeous girlfriend how can he not!?
sometimes Max thinks that he can be little overwhelming with his love and overall attention he gives you but you quickly tell him how much you enjoy when he treats you like the only girl in the world, which he really does. because you're the only girl in the world for him
he'll literally do anything for you! he knows you love late night rides in his car, so he'll just grab you and drive with you through the streets of his home city from time to time.
⤷ Lewis Hamilton - rich love
Tumblr media
Lewis is called "the billion dolar man" so it is kinda obvious how rich this love is. BUT it has two meanings! first- this love is rich because Lewis LOVES to spoil you. he'll literally buy you anything you land your eyes on without any word. he'll often buy you new clothes or jewelry but he'll also buy you new car or a vacation, whatever you want. second- this love is rich because Lewis loves you dearly. he treats you like royalty and he isn't planning on stopping any time soon!
you and Roscoe are his favourite beings in the whole world, you're his family so really be expecting to be treated like a royalty, i have to say it twice. he has you and Roscoe as a wallpaper so whenever he looks at his phone he smiles. and he LOVES it because it's actually a beautiful photo.
but even tho Lewis is rich and he treats you expensive, he also does not disdain comfortable cuddles on his sofa in matching pyjama, popcorn and some good movie. because whenever he can hold you, oh god don't be expecting to move any time soon! Roscoe usually accompanies you so you really won't be going anywhere cuz that dog loves you just as much and he isn't really a small doggy.
⤷ George Russell - best friends to lovers
Tumblr media
you and George started of as friend, soon became best friends and it was like this for some time. you two also though that it'll stay like this since you two had completely different dating lives but oh boy were you two wrong!
it soon turned into longer looks that you gave each other. for example George had to focus on the circuit but all he could look at was you or you were suppose to made the team some toasts but burned them because you were staring at George who was taking off his sweaty shirt.
to your surprise, none of you actually confessed. one time you two were joking around as always but suddenly you caught each others eyes, staring at each other and bum- you kissed.
from that time George is very proud of you as his girlfriend, everybody knows at least 10 times because George told them. he also bought that white t-shirt that says "i love my girlfriend" and wore it on every race from that time.
⤷ Charles Leclerc - true love
Tumblr media
yours and Charles's love is the type of love that lasts forever, you two will grew old with each other and honestly he CANNOT wait for that to happen! the thought of you two being old together while he lived the life through and through with you by his side.. so cute.
he's a gentleman so he'll buy you flowers or write you letters or give you his t-shirt/helmet because he knew you keep all the stuff he gives you, just like he does with the things you make him. since you usually draw him silly pictures of cute fat cats or a paper full of hearts and your kisses. it all holds the memories he wants to remember...
Leo fell in love with you instantly, that little ball of sunshine fur was deeply in love with you just like his owner, maybe even more! that made Charles so happy because after all he loves his dog and he wants him to go along with you... it went TOO well and now he's jealous because Leo is often stealing your attention.
head kisses! not forehead kisses, he loves to kiss you ON TOP of your head, on your hair.
⤷ Carlos Sainz - any universe
Tumblr media
Carlos was ABSOLUTELY smitten by you, it was like his soul could be finally at absolute peace. it was strange yet very calming. he felt like he knew you for years when in reality he knew you few hours. that was the time when he realized he needs you.
well from that time you two got close, way too close, and before you knew it- he was asking you to be his girlfriend, now you were together for over a year! it all went so fast because you two felt like you knew each other! neither of you could describe it really..
you knew that you two had to know each other in different lives, on different planets, in a different time, under different circumstances, it was obvious.
Carlos loves your smile, it's like he remembers it. it's like you were his guardian angel all the time, it was like he knew your smile all his life! that's why whenever you smiled at him, he knew he was okay.
⤷ Lando Norris - teenage love
Tumblr media
Lando felt like a teenager when he was with you and i mean it in the best way possible. you know what they say- "when a man acts like a child, he's in love", that was Lando.
with you everything was so vibrant, so happy, so colorful, so perfect! he could climb a mountain just for the fun of it, you gave him strength and power- which was pretty useful when he raced.
he would let you do whatever you want to him- masks? sure. plug his brows? sure. cut his hair? sure. paint his nails? sure. whatever. he just didn't care when he had you nor he was scared that he'd look ugly with his new haircut, it was from YOU, he was gonna be handsome way more than he was before.
he tries to be romantic with you but sometimes he fails so he usually just cuddles with you and when the world is quiet- he whispers his feelings into your eat. he usually does it when you fell asleep so don't tell him you're actually awake.
⤷ Francesco "Pecco" Bagnaia - unconditional love
Tumblr media
Pecco really loves you unconditionally and there is no other word that would describe it. he'd love you if you changed your hair, he'd love you if you accidently plugged your brows too much, he'd love you if you were a worm, he'd love you if you'd be angry at him- there's just nothing you can do that would make him not love you and visa versa.
he really really appreciates your support on the track because you keep him happy and hopeful. he doesn't need to win because he already won in his life- he won you and you're something no motogp trophy can trump.
he loves when you play with his hair and yes before you ask- yes you can put pink bows or flowers into his hair, whatever you want pretty girl and he'll watch you with hearts in his eyes.
after a race he gets kinda needy so be prepared for whole night full of cuddles and soft kisses. he'll hold you tight around your waist with his head buried in your cleavage- close to your neck yet close to your chest, while he would mumble about the race with your fingers scratching his scalp.
⤷ Enea Bastianini - love at first sight
Tumblr media
this is kinda easy to describe since it happened so fast. basically when you and Enea met- it was like the zing, you know from hotel transylvania what happened to mavis and johnny happened to you two. Enea was sent over the moon!
from that time you two were inseparable. you were with him even when he was racing because he always kept something of yours that he could have while racing- like a hair band. you were his lucky charm...
if you thought he was all around you while you two were in public well you aren't prepared for him when you two are alone! he basically has you on his back or in his arms and walks everywhere like this with you, he's like glued to you! of course if you need to be alone he'll give you space but he'll be waiting close by.
overall he's just like a puppy in love, it's cute, you cannot be mad at this man. he just loves you so much, so much that he believes his heart beats for you.
⤷ Marc Marquez - soulmates
Tumblr media
Marc didn't really believe in stuff like soulmates until he met you, oh but when he did- oh boy was he feeling stupid for not believing. with you he felt like real life just entered him, his soul felt alive, he felt like fucking hercules just because you were near!
you'd be his huge rock meaning he'd have a lot of support in you, through the years he'd always come to you. whenever he and his team were talking about the race or new upgrades they wanted to do on his bike in his garage, you'll always be found sitting on his lap with his arm resting on your hips.
your touch basically calm him, your presence put him into peace, your voice sooth him- so whenever you combined these into one, meaning you two cuddle in his bed- he is in heaven.
he'd be really protective of you and even little possessive because if you brought him such ecstasy- you could do that to others and he noticed so he wasn't gonna let you wonder around, he needs his girl close to him.
⤷ Alex Marquez - whatever it takes
Tumblr media
Alex was often in the shadows of his more successful older brother so when he met you, he thought you wouldn't really spend much time with him. but when you did and you actually took interest in him and listened to him- he knew he'd do whatever it takes to make you his.
that pretty much happened way sooner than he thought it would happen. he was so proud of himself that he had something his brother didn't and never could have had. you were his greatest victory.
he always kept you close since he felt like he was a king when you were with him, so before and after race he'll need A LOT of your attention. you're like his sun, he like recharges with you.
Alex loves giving you hugs from behind since he's pretty tall. so he can just wrap you in his arms, have you close while smelling your scent and feeling your soft skin against his, he is 'protecting' you like this- yea he loved that.
⤷ Fabio Quartararo - falling in love fast
Tumblr media
Fabio is easy going guy- he's funny, he has charisma, he has passion and vision and he really goes after what he wants to accomplish. and you were one of the people who never gave up on him. when he tried too little and ended up on 13th place? you were here for him. when he lost again because he tried too hard? you were also here for him. he fell in love with you so quickly. it was like he was always in love with you.
he'll let you do all types of tiktok trends, he'll often be the one who suggested to do them in the first place. many of his fans are literally living for these cute videos of you two.
he knows how much you love to see him in his gear, especially when his abs are showing so he always makes sure he's near you when he's like this. he loves your attention and he needs it because otherwise he turns into a grumpy old man.
he calls you sweet nicknames, often saying them in french since he knows how much his native language turns you on.
⤷  Luca Marini - meant to be
Tumblr media
you and Luca clicked so quickly. i know how weird and "i have love glasses on" mind sound like but you two were fitting together like a puzzle! when you two were with each other, you became the IT couple. many were jealous.
he's actually pretty skilled and by that i mean he can braid your hair. he can do a simple braid but still! and he loves it- he'll have you sat between his legs while he's running his fingers through your hair. it comforts the both of you.
but just as much as he loves touching your hair, he loves when YOU touch his hair. so whenever you take a shower, he's right there with you, if you let him, hoping that he can wash your hair and then you'll wash his hair. i think it's getting little complicated, haha
he also loves kissing your cheek like a gentleman, even tho everyone knows that kissing your lips is his favourite.
⤷ Marco Bezzecchi - teenage love
Tumblr media
now don't get me wrong, i know he's an adult man but... come on, whenever he's near you he acts like a little boy. he's all over you, hugging you, smiling at you, kissing your cheek, holding your hand- yeah everything that comes to your mind.
you're his biggest support and biggest reason to try harder and harder every time. every time he wins, he runs right towards you to hug you and kiss your whole face. also in every interview he's like "i won this for my girlfriend."
Rubik actually fell in love with you just as much as his owner so you usually think you have two dogs that are literally giving you the puppy dog love- it's the sweetest thing ever.
Marco will probably soon or later tattoo your name or something special for both of you on his arm. he needs to have you forever on his body, without any shame.
⤷ Jorge Martin - slow burn
Tumblr media
Jorge knew from the start that he likes you but he didn't want to start anything with you since his career in motogp was quickly rising. he was winning over and over again, more people needed his attention and he needed to train more so he didn't wanna start anything serious because he knew he'd be neglecting you. he didn't want to mess things up from the start because he really cared about you...
well later on he just couldn't cope anymore with his urges to have you, so he confessed and you two started dating. still he was often scared about you leaving him after you find out how exhausting his job can be. lucky for him you were the biggest support which made him win even more races.
he'll often seek your comfort like cuddle and kisses before and after each race since like i said you're his biggest support. you motivate him before the race and you calm him down after the race.
⤷ Pedro Acosta - first and only love
Tumblr media
sharky over here never though he'd met his true love so early in life, i mean he's 19, that's young for finding his true love. many don't find their true love their whole life yet he got really lucky... he really felt grateful each day for you.
i believe you'd find some shark costumes (pink for you and blue for him) and will make him wear it. he'd mumble about it but he'll still wear it, if that makes you happy.
he'll often tease you about little stuff which will often drive you nuts but he knows you love it. but even tho this boy tease you, he also needs some of your attention, some sweet attention- meaning he's actually hug and cuddle sucker.
he'll cuddle with you (basically have you in choke hold, lol) whole night and he won't let go of you so easily so if you need to pee- no you don't.
⤷ David Alonso - pure love
Tumblr media
this boy is the sweetest of them all. he's the youngest (and i believe he was written by a woman) so he's the biggest gentleman you'll ever met. BUT he's not only a gentleman he's also a gentle man- meaning that every time he touches you it's like he was touching something so precious that he was afraid to break it.
he's a really sweet boy so there's no way his eyes are on someone else than on you (not like any other man here would cheat but ykyk) he's all over you, loving you with his WHOLE heart and even more. he'd bring you the blue out of sky just because!
he loves cuddling, like a lot, and he loves to hold you in his arms with your head on his chest. for some reason it's comforting for him like this, probably because he feels manly.
David thought racing is his passion and don't get me wrong it is and he's really talented and has a long successful career in front on him but YOU are way important than racing. you're the love of his life and the only thing he wants is you to be happy... his love for you is really the purest.
291 notes · View notes
softmiso · 2 days ago
Text
come together | spencer reid x reader
🦊 kinktober day 29: uniforms (ft. munch!spencer, spencer's work clothes, cumming in pants)
🥮 other details: nsfw/18+, ~1k words, fem!reader, spoiler free/not set in a particular season!
🍁 cross-posted on ao3
It was late, and Spencer still hadn’t come home. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but on this particular night you were feeling a bit…needy.
You lay on the couch as you waited for him, with some random show playing on the TV. Your mind wandered, however, to thoughts of Spencer at work. You recalled the outfit he was wearing when he left in the morning: off-white dress shirt, patterned tie, and matching brown slacks and waistcoat. Not to mention his gun tucked into its brown leather holster.
You must have fallen asleep at some point, because you woke up tucked into bed.
“Spence?” You called out quietly, as you opened your eyes. As if on cue, he entered your shared bedroom, glass of water in hand.
He approached you, placing the water down on the nightstand. You noted how his sleeves were pushed up, and his hair was slightly dishevelled, as though he’d been running his hands through it.
“Hi,” he spoke softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “didn’t have to wait up for me.”
“I wanted to,” you replied with a tired smile. His expression mirrored your own.
“Yeah?” He questioned, “Any reason why?”
You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you avoided his gaze. His hand found your chin, lifting it gently so you had to look at him. He gave you a look that you knew all too well; he knew what you were thinking, but he wanted to hear you say it.
“Need you,” you spoke, after a beat. He hummed, thumb stroking your chin. “C’mere,” you whispered, “please.”
You moved the duvet aside, patting the empty space next to you on the bed. He took his gun out of the holster, placing it in the drawer of the bedside table. You noticed the way he removed it with such practiced ease.
He started to undress, loosening his tie, but you swatted his hand away as he went to take it off. He looked at you curiously, and you took the opportunity to grab the end of his tie, pulling him closer to you. When he was close enough, you captured his lips in a hungry kiss. Your lips moved together, and you tried to pull him into bed with you, before he separated from the kiss.
“Gonna let me take this off?” He asked, motioning to his still fully clothed form. Usually, you didn’t allow outside clothes in bed, but you didn’t care about that at the moment. You shook your head, biting your lip slightly. At that, realization crossed his face, and he climbed into bed next to you. “You like seeing me like this, huh?”
Instead of replying, you went back to kissing him, your hands finding themselves in his hair. As time went on, you grew needier, and your tongue slipped past his lips. Your tongues danced together, but when that wasn’t enough, you drew him closer until he was on top of you.
Your wrapped your legs around his hips, your own grinding up immediately just to feel something. You could feel his growing bulge, and he could feel the heat radiating from your core even through the layers of clothing. You inched your hand down, grabbing his length through his slacks, but he stopped you.
“Let me take care of you,” he spoke, lips still nearly connected to your own. You nodded against him.
Immediately, he started to trail kisses from your cheek to your neck, pausing every once in a while to suck and nibble on the supple skin. At the same time, his hands found the hem of your shirt. He halted his kisses to pull your top up and over your head, revealing your bare chest to him.
He resumed, lips now wrapping themselves around your nipple, and his hand tweaking deftly at the other. You moaned at his touch, hips bucking up once again, trying to chase some semblance of relief.
With that, Spencer let his lip travel down your body, until he reached the waistband of your sleep shorts. He looked up to you, eyes full of need. When you nodded, he removed your shorts and underwear in one fell swoop, and promptly spread your folds with his fingers.
“So wet for me,” he spoke, before his lips latched onto your clit.
There was something about the juxtaposition between him, in his professional attire, and you, in your state of undress, that drove you wild. This was further cemented by your reaction to his lips on you.
“Fuck, Spence!” You cried out, and your hips immediately followed the sensation. He sucked and licked your bud with such precision, as though he had studied you inside and out.
He continued his ministrations, dipping down to lick at your entrance every now and then. He must have noticed the way you clenched around nothing, as he soon pushed a finger inside of you.
Your breaths started to come out in stutters and your hips moved erratically against Spencer’s mouth. When your hands flew to his hair, in an attempt to ground yourself, he knew you were close. You heard—and felt—him moan against you, sending you over the edge.
When you finally came back to earth, your eyes met Spencer’s from where his head was laid upon your thigh. His gaze was full of admiration, a look that had not once faltered in the years that you had been together.
The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, your hands playing idly with his soft locks. Then it dawned on you.
“Let me help you now,” you said, voice just loud enough for him to hear you.
He chuckled quietly. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
Your brows furrowed, but then he got up slowly, revealing a wet patch in the front of his trousers.
“Oh, Spence,” you giggled, as he came to lay down next to you.
“Hey, don’t laugh!” He responded, “It’s a totally normal reaction, in fact—” You silenced him with a kiss.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
304 notes · View notes
kateschi · 2 days ago
Text
by god, don't leave me
Tumblr media Tumblr media
synopsis: in a heart-wrenching moment of despair, katsuki races through a hospital to find you, only to confront the devastating reality.
pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader
⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: have you noticed how much I love "where is my wife?" angst + major character death btw!!
Tumblr media
katsuki’s heart pounds in his chest like it’s ready to explode. his legs push him forward, carrying him through the sterile, cold hallways of the hospital, each step echoing off the walls in a frantic, relentless rhythm.
“where is she?” his voice breaks through the silence, barely held together by a thread. “where is my wife?!”
the nurse at the counter starts to respond, her eyes filled with the kind of pity he can’t bear to see. his face contorts in desperation, and he doesn’t wait for her to explain.
he’s moving, his boots slamming against the floor, refusing to believe—refusing to even consider—that he might be too late.
another doctor, another nurse tries to intercept him, but he’s beyond hearing them. he pushes past, breaking into a sprint, his breath coming in gasps, wild and desperate.
when he reaches your room, it’s as if time stops.
there’s a stillness in the air that hits him like a punch to the gut. he stands there, gripping the doorframe, refusing to believe what he sees.
you’re lying in the bed, so quiet, so still. too still.
he stumbles to a halt, the sight of you stealing the last shred of breath he had left. you're lying there so still, too still.
the life that always seemed to burst out of you—the laughter, the warmth, the damn light—it’s all gone. all that’s left is your body, and that makes him furious, desperate, helpless.
“hey.” his voice trembles as he reaches for you, his hand hovering over your cheek before he finally touches it, cupping your face with fingers that shake uncontrollably.
the warmth he’s looking for isn’t there, the color gone from your skin. “come on,” he whispers, his voice barely a breath as his thumb traces your cheek. “come on, y/n, wake up.”
but you don’t respond.
he bites his lip hard, tasting blood, willing the agony to stop because he can’t let you go.
he’s gripping your shoulders now, his fingers sinking into you like he could hold you here, force you back to life by sheer will alone.
“you… you promised,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “you said we’d grow old together, remember? that we’d be those old, grumpy people who couldn’t stand anyone but each other.”
but there’s no answer, no gentle squeeze of his hand, no reassuring smile. just silence. he presses his lips to your forehead, his hands still cupping your face as if he can anchor you, hold you here with him just a little longer.
“you lied to me,” he murmurs, his voice trembling, harsh, as though he can will you back by sheer desperation. “you said you’d stay with me—no matter what. no matter what.”
katsuki's hands go slack, slipping from your face to the edge of the bed, where his knuckles press white into the mattress.
he stares, his mind refusing to process, searching for any sign that this is all some horrible, twisted joke.
for one unbearable, suspended moment, he almost expects you to stir, to open your eyes with that look that says he’s an idiot for worrying so much.
but there’s nothing. just the faint beep of machines, the sterile scent of antiseptic, the steady ache that presses harder and harder against his ribs, hollowing him out with each passing second.
his fingers curl against the sheets as a tremor runs through him, his breath hitching violently. memories flood in unbidden—moments he thought he’d have time to revisit someday.
how you’d laugh and shake your head when he’d scowl over some trivial thing. how you’d tuck yourself into his side on quiet mornings, your hand pressed against his chest, the sound of your breathing steady against his heartbeat.
katsuki feels his throat tighten as he leans down, forehead pressing against the coolness of your hand.
"we had a whole life planned out," he whispers, voice breaking.
“remember? we’d find that crappy house by the beach, fix it up, make it ours. you were gonna paint the walls bright colors, and I was gonna complain and pretend I hated it."
he lets out a jagged breath, eyes clenching shut as his shoulders shake, the reality tearing through him in waves.
this wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. there was supposed to be more—more days, more late nights, more everything.
“I don’t…” he struggles, voice barely more than a broken rasp, “I don’t want to do this without you.” the words slip out, hollow, stripped of all the fire he’s ever had, leaving nothing but the raw ache underneath.
he presses his face into the crook of your neck, searching for any hint of the warmth that was once there, anything to hold onto, but it’s gone.
and it hits him, like the ground crumbling from under his feet, that you’re really not coming back.
the weight of all he’s lost crashes into him. he thinks of the arguments that meant nothing now, all the times he’d leave you with a brusque goodbye, figuring he’d make it up to you later.
how you’d roll your eyes at his stubborn pride, laughing at how he’d scowl at affection in public yet draw you close the moment he thought no one was watching.
he’d do anything to take it all back, just to hold you again, to let you know he’d trade every bit of strength, every scrap of pride if it meant you’d be here, laughing at him, calling him out on his nonsense.
he doesn’t notice the tears streaking down his face as he stares at you, the silence so absolute it feels like it’s burying him.
the room feels colder now, like the world has shifted on its axis, taking you with it.
for a moment, he wonders if he can even go back to the life you both shared; if he can return to the apartment filled with pieces of you in every room, every corner.
katsuki’s shoulders sag under the crushing weight of it all, fingers curling around the edge of the bed as he takes a shuddering breath. he wants to scream, rage, curse the universe for being so damn unfair.
but all he can manage is a broken whisper. “I should have told you more… should have said it every day. you’d have laughed at me, said I was going—soft.”
he gathers you closer, pressing your body against his own as he begins to sway, rocking gently back and forth as though he can somehow soothe the emptiness inside him.
his chest shakes, the first tears slipping down silently, but then they come harder, a ragged sob tearing from his throat as he buries his face in your neck.
“I love you…” the words escape in a cracked whisper, his breath hitching as he clings to you, his grip tightening, desperate.
“I love you… I love you…” he murmurs, his voice breaking more with each word.
his tears fall faster, his breath coming in shuddering gasps, as if the weight of those words—the words he can never say to you again—is too much to bear.
“I love you,” he chokes out, each syllable fractured, his body trembling as he holds you closer, his tears soaking your shoulder.
his heart shatters all over again with every whispered confession, until he’s clutching you so tightly it hurts, his sobs growing louder, rawer, until he’s left gasping, brokenly repeating, “I love you—I love you, y/n—so much.”
Tumblr media
kofi — navigation — masterlist
Tumblr media
do not copy, translate, or plagarize
379 notes · View notes
angelqie · 3 days ago
Text
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ��ㅤㅤSUNKISSED
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
SOMAR𝒊O your best friend wants to kiss you ; headcannon, jake x female reader, f2l (friends to lovers), 0.6k.
𝐖𝐀����𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 skinship, fluff, mentions of getting sick and injuries LiBRARYㅤ
Tumblr media
What he wanted was a kiss.
Crossing his legs over the desk, he leisurely stretched his upper body, letting his head droop over the chair, picturing your lips.  
Sneaking quietly into the half-vacant room, you moved to surprise your friend who was resting with his eyes closed, basking in the warmth of the sun. His skin glowed elegantly against the warm sun kissing his face. He resembled an angel, at ease with a moment of pure rest.
“Jake!” You called, watching his eyes shoot open, his light brown orbs slightly dilating. Your face hovered directly over his, almost recreating the iconic spiderman kiss. Holding on to the corners of his head, your fingers fiddled with his sideburns, a habit you had developed around him. 
You followed his eyes that dropped to your lips, wetting his own lightly and blowing his hot breath on your forehead. 
 “Are you feeling sick?” His eyes focused on your lips, tinted a shade of cherry and downturned by the flush on his cheeks. “Should I take you to the nurse’s office?” He remained in a daze for a few seconds before he sat up abruptly, knocking his forehead against yours. 
Shooting your hands to your aching head, you winced. “Damn, so much for my concern.” Straddling the chair to face you, he brushed your hands away from your forehead, revealing the bruise slowly forming. “Luckily you have hair to cover it up.” He grinned cheekily, dodging your hands flying towards him. Glancing at him through the corner of your eye, you watched him pull his lips into a pout in your direction. 
Finding it difficult to stay mad at him, you straightened up your back and organised your hair to cover your bruise. Copying his action, you moved to straddle the chair by the empty desk, pressing your hands on his cheeks, noticing the warmth coating your palms. Before you opened your mouth to point it out, he shrugged away from your hold. “Why are you here anyway? It’s not your classroom.” He questioned, diverting his eyes away from yours. 
“Okay, I’ll go then, since you don’t appreciate my presence.” You pouted, pulling a face at him, feigning anger. “What a shame though, I really wanted to tell you something.” Peeking through your curtain of hair, you watched his expression morph into interest.
“I changed my mind.” Humming sarcastically, you proceeded to drone on about the movie you had watched the evening before, performing a verbal literary analysis on every detail. “And she was acting as if she didn’t say that it was supposed to be a joke.” 
Waving your hands in front of his face, you drew back his attention “Jake, focus.” He hummed, zoning out on your lips after a few minutes of listening. 
“Go on. I’m listening.” He defended, sounding distracted. Your expression remained grim, eyeing the boy suspiciously and continued, trying to follow the direction of his eyes. 
Sighing at his uncooperative behavior, you paused. “Are you even listening?” “Can I kiss you?” You spoke in sync, suddenly noticing the emptiness in the classroom.  You gaped, dumbfounded by his words. 
“Did you mean that?” Searching his expression, you silently watched his cheeks heat up. “What if I did?” He questioned, maintaining eye contact. 
Standing up carefully, you took a few steps in his direction, placing your hand on his shoulder, sure that he could hear your heart pounding from where he was. Leaning down, you pecked his lips, savouring the feeling. After holding it for a few seconds, you pulled back, watching him wet his lips. “Then, yes.” You spoke, inching closer to his lips and melting into them.
Fixed in your position, you observed his face, matching the blush on your cheek. “You’re really squeezing my shoulder, you know.” He spoke, causing you to pull your hand back, awkwardly watching him massage his sore shoulder. 
“Well,” You began, inching closer to his lips, replacing his hands with yours and gently massaging his shoulder. “That’s what you get for stealing my first kiss, but you deserved it.”
Tumblr media
note. thank you so much for reading! all rights reserved, ©️ angelqie 2024. click here to join taglist!
275 notes · View notes
justevelynnnn · 2 days ago
Text
Drabble for a protective logan of a pregnant!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Pregnant!Reader
Warnings: Pregnancy, a bit of feral logan, childbirth..
A/N: ive had this prompt on my mind for a whileee however i don’t think this will have a follow up cause i got kinda lazy towards the end
Tumblr media
- He knows before you do honestly. Strong sense of smell and all that jazz. But also he senses your heart rate slightly increase even though you’re not doing anything
- You smell different..almost…sweeter? At least to him.
- A week after he noticed you tell him how you missed your period and he just just looks at you and nods like “duh, you’re pregnant…”
- You still go to Jean to get an ultrasound and what do ya know, there’s a bun in the oven!
- Immediately after it’s officially confirmed Logan forbids you to go on anymore missions or really do…anything..
- Going out with Storm? Where? Why? No, no, no stay here it’s too dangerous out there..
- He didn’t let you lift anything, do chores, cook…
- Nope nope nope just stay there.
- As time goes on you get a bit annoyed but you’ll admit it’s cute seeing him like this.
- He cuddles with you every single night, arm protectively slung around your belly. He kisses it every night and then your forehead. He’s so soft with you..
- As your bump started to show he just couldn’t stop looking. He was surprisingly very excited to be a father. He was gonna raise this kid right. Protect them from any harm as much as he can. You included.
- He’s always been protective over you but now?
- One day, You were trying to reach something and Scott comes by, noticing you need help and walks over to help you reach whatever you want. Unfortunately for him, Logan saw this from around the corner and also saw how Scott gently touched your side as he helped you.
- Logan saw red. He snarls and then lunged at Scott and damn near bites him. Scott jumps back a bit, startled by the sudden feralness.
- “Don’t. Touch. Her. Again. Got it, Summers?” Logan growled angrily.
- Scott just nodded and then quickly left.
- You scolded Logan immediately after but Logan ignored you and just looked at you for any “marks”
- So after that no one was to ever touch you unless it was Jean doing a check up. Or another mutant if she couldn’t.
- Logan didn’t care. In his mind he was keeping you 100% safe. From harm..germs…whatever
- He’d make you wear his clothes so his “scent” would be on you and also because your clothes were getting too tight
- Whatever you craved, he’d get it.
- If you wanted water at 4am, he’s up and going to get it immediately, like he wasn’t just sleeping moments before
- Back hurting? He’s now a licensed massage therapist.
- Someone’s cooking food that’s making you gag? He’s going into the kitchen and scolding whoever’s cooking.
- That one was a bit embarrassing but they never really minded and understood you were pregnant
- After a while you started to become more and more out of breath so now you reallyyyy couldn’t do anything. You had to beg Logan to at least let you get some fresh air or something because staying in bed all day was not the answer even if your feet were swelling and you back was killing you.
- He’d walk with you outside as you talked about your day and he just listened. He’d ask about the baby and how you felt and how he felt about becoming parents
- He was more cuddly when you neared the end of your third trimester. Hugging you more, kissing you more, talking to your now huge stomach and rubbing it and feeling when the baby kicked
- You both didn’t know if the baby was gonna be a mutant or not or the gender or anything but just knew it was healthy and that was honestly enough
- You decided to deliver at the mansion because well, the hospitals nearby did not like or tend to mutants at all..
- You started getting braxton hicks here and there and you knew the baby had dropped. It was getting hard to move and the mansion was on edge. Logan especially.
- He’d pace around you as you groan and winced in pain but told him, “False alarm honey…just another hick..”
- But was it? What if it’s time? What if you two ignore this and then it’s too late? What if something is wrong and and-
- There was alot of calming Logan down now..reassuring you’re fine
- A week before you were due, you were thrown a baby shower.
- It was Rogues idea and everyone gave you a little something. Diapers, Toys, bottles…
- They had all your favorite foods from your pregnancy, even the super weird cravings
- You cried.
- Logan got mad when he saw you cry. “Who did this?? Why is she crying? Was it you, Summers? Why i outta-“
- You tell him you’re just very happy and emotional right now and not sad. And, no, Scott did nothing wrong so please put him down oh my gosh…
- It’s true you were very emotional and hormonal the whole time and you were so ready to be done
- A week later, in the middle of the night you got up to use the bathroom for the 5th time. Not wanting to wake up Logan over and over just to walk to the bathroom, you went alone, waddling to the door.
- The second you got there though there you immediately started leaking. And you would’ve been embarrassed of you didn’t immediately have the worst braxton, no….this wasn’t that…this was more…
- “Logan. Logan!”
- Logan jumped up and and ran over to you asking what happened and what’s wrong..
- You start to tell him and suddenly you’re hit again with another contraction
- It was time.
- Logan woke up everyone he could after getting you tot he medical room.
- He left the students be but it’s not like they couldn’t hear you yelling anyways
- He stood by you the entire time as you squeezed his hand and cried in pain. He almost growled at Jean hooking you up the machines but he knew it was to monitor if you and the baby were okay.
- He was so focused on you that he didn’t care for everyone crowding also but when it was time to push he barked for everyone to get back even Jean
- He let you squeeze the life out of his hand as you pushed and encouraged you the whole time and wiped your forehead
- And after several minutes of this chaos…
- “Congratulations…you guys are now officially parents!” Jean says as she holds the crying newborn baby.
- As she helped lay the baby on your bare chest, you and Logan just smiled at your child.
Tumblr media
272 notes · View notes