#i got the thought that this would be a perfect thing for like

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [3] - Downpour

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Thanks to @chibi-lioness for beta reading!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Evening rain comes out of nowhere.

Word Count: 4540

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Maybe you did have a crush.

And maybe the said crush was taking over all your thoughts to the point that you could barely focus on anything other than him, but that was completely normal.

Just like you and your best friend analyzing every single second of your interaction with your crush was completely normal.

“He actually lifted your car?”

You nodded your head, filling both her glass and yours with wine before tucking your legs under you.

“With one hand,” you said, leaning back to the arm of the couch. “He did that with one hand.”

“And you didn’t jump his bones right then and there?”

“No but I may have rambled about going to jail if the car fell on him and also not knowing who would take care of Theo.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked with a scoff. “I’d take care of Theo. We’d come to visit you every weekend.”

“Thanks Julie.”

“I’d even sign you up for those inmate dating websites.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh, no thank you.”

“Hey, if you accidentally kill the ridiculously hot mutant guy—”

“Logan.”

“Yeah, Logan. If you accidentally kill him, you might as well exchange some dirty letters with someone else.”

“Can we please focus on the fact that I actually have a crush on him?”

“We absolutely can,” Julie grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Aw look at you! It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute!” you whined, slipping a little on the couch. “Julie, I talk absolute nonsense whenever he and I cross paths.”

“Babe, I mean it in the best way possible,” she said and motioned at your face. “I doubt any guy really listens to any word coming out of your mouth when you look like this, so you’re fine.”

“So not true,” you stated and sipped your wine. “I mean either way, it’s not like anything could happen between us so I’ll just, you know, fantasize about him and gaze at him longingly. Should be fine.”

Julie rolled her eyes at you. “Come on.”

“No seriously, because Theo—”

“Sweetheart,” she said. “You got pregnant at 18. Don’t get me wrong, I think Theo is the most perfect kid in the entire world but keep in mind that while we were all out partying, you were taking care of a baby.”

“It’s fine, I lived vicariously through you.”

“And now that you’re in your twenties and hot as fuck,” Julie said, ignoring your comment. “You don’t think it’s time to live a little?”

“It’d confuse Theo if I started dating around, especially with Logan—”

“Fine, then don’t date Logan. Just fuck his brains out.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment I sleep with him, I will be trying to decide on the wallpaper of our future cabin in the woods,” you pointed out, getting a handful of popcorn from the bowl and she scoffed.

“I still can’t believe you want a cabin in the woods.”

“I want a cabin in the woods and I want a horse and a cat and two dogs,” you insisted. “Anyway, the point is, no strings attached is not a thing for me when it comes to a guy that hot. He lifted a car for me, Julie!”

“And you want him to lift you up and down repeatedly,” Julie said with a grin, making you throw a popcorn at her.

“I doubt I’m his type,” you said and she groaned.

“You cannot be serious.”

“No I am, because men like him go for…” you trailed off and threw your head back. “Ugh, I so want to show you his picture so that you’ll know what I’m talking about but I don’t have one!”

“I have this mental image of a very hot lumberjack in mind.”

“That would be correct,” you said before taking a sip of your wine, but then your phone started vibrating on the table and you frowned, then snatched it off the table when you saw the caller ID.

“Theo?” you answered immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Hi mommy!”

You let out a breath at the cheerful tone of his voice, then pressed a hand on your chest and checked the time on the phone.

“What are you doing up, bean?” you asked. “It’s late at night.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m with auntie Julie,” you said and Julie grinned.

“Hi Theo, I missed you sweetheart!” she called out, making Theo giggle.

“Hi auntie Julie!” he said. “Mommy, I thought about it, and I solved how I can have fish.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“I’m listening, bean.”

“Okay so,” he said. “We will get two fish, and we will put them in an aquarium, but like a bowl, not a huge aquarium.”

You hummed.

“That’s where they’ll stay at the weekends when I’m there,” he said. “And then, on weekdays, I will bring them here, and put them in the lake, and that’s where they can stay within the week! They’d even make friends with other fish!”

You let out a small laugh.

“Theo, my love,” you said. “How will you catch them again if you put them in the lake?”

He paused for a moment.

“Um, I’d call them by their names,” he said. “Cheeto and Popcorn. They’d come.”

“Fish don’t do that baby,” you said softly. “How about you make friends with fish there in the lake and on the weekends they can just spend time with their own friends?”

“Yes but—” he started but then got distracted for a moment by something. “It’s my mom!”

“I know bub,” you heard Logan’s deep voice and your eyes widened. You sat up straight immediately, making Julie tilt her head in confusion. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mommy, Mr. Logan says hi to you.”

“Uh, tell him I said hi back,” you said after a beat, hearing Theo parrot what you said as you covered the bottom part of the phone with your palm, then mouthed ‘Logan’ to Julie.

“What?!” she whispered and you cleared your throat.

“And tell him to please watch that you don’t have any sweets before bed, for his sake.”

“No!”

“Bean.”

“Ugh fine!” he said. “Mr Logan, my mom says please watch that I don’t have any sweets before bed for your sake.”

You could hear Logan’s chuckle, making you bite at your lip before he spoke.

“Can I borrow the phone for a minute Theo?”

Your jaw dropped and you motioned at the phone frantically, and Julie pulled you by the arm and made you lower the phone a little so that she could hear as well. You pressed your finger to your lips, signaling her to be silent before Theo’s excited “sure!” and there was a shuffling on the other line for a moment before Logan’s voice reached you again.

“So no chocolate before bed then?”

Julie gripped your wrist, mouthing “hot voice!” to you and you let out a giggle, trying to focus.

“Nope,” you said. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

You could hear Theo in the background; “I think I can have one chocolate.”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “He can’t.”

“Sorry bub, whatever your mom says goes.”

“Um, Logan,” you said, your mind going overdrive again. “If he’s up this late, he will turn the puppy dog eyes on for dessert, and he can be very, very insistent but sugar makes him incredibly energetic, and he will end up blowing a hole in the wall because of his powers so you can’t—”

“Relax princess,” Logan said and you could almost hear his faint smile. “It’s fine.”

Julie’s eyes widened and she fell on her back onto the couch dramatically, kicking her legs in the air while slapping the pillow and you stood up, your heart beating in your ears.

“How’s the car?” he asked and you licked your lips.

“Oh I changed my mechanic, so it’s at the new mechanic’s shop for a couple of days. My friend has been driving me to work—” Julie waved a hand from where she was lying down on the couch. “But apparently it’ll be fixed the day after tomorrow so it’s totally fine.”

“Are you being safe?”

“I am,” you said. “Are you?”

“Am I being safe?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “What with lifting cars and stuff, it can be dangerous.”

“Half a chocolate!” Theo said as if it was the brightest idea in the world. “Half—Mr. Logan, can I have the phone back please?”

You ran a hand over your face and cleared your throat.

“Sorry about that,” you said and Logan chuckled.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night Logan,” you said, your head spinning with excitement and you heard the shuffling, then Theo took a deep breath.

“Mommy, half a chocolate!”

“Not at night,” you said. “We’ve talked about this bean. You can have chocolate tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay?”

“But—”

“Theo,” you said. “After breakfast.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I know bean,” you said softly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Mkay,” he said with a huff. “I’m going to sleep then.”

“Okay, I love you!” you said. “Call me tomorrow and be nice to your teachers, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “Love you too!”

He hung up and you let out a breath, then tossed the phone on the couch while Julie sat up.

“Oh he talks you through it!” she said, slamming the pillow on the couch. “I just know he talks you through it!”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your cheeks burning and she let out a laugh.

“Oh please, with that voice…”

“That’s what I mean!” you said and flung yourself on the couch. “He’s…he’s so amazing and Theo adores him and he’s so good with him too and to repeat, he lifted a car for me!”

“Aw,” Julie said. “He’s gonna be such a good stepdad to Theo.”

Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.

“We’re not even thinking about that,” you said, pointing at her. “We’re keeping our expectations very, very low, okay?”

She hummed, then tilted her head.

“Do you want to check Pinterest for cabins in the woods to see which one could be your and Logan’s in the future?”

You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds like keeping our expectations low, sure.”

                                                *

Despite having drunk until midnight and consequently having a hangover in the morning, the next day went without a hitch. You’d only had a couple of rude customers, which in service industry counted as a normal day if not a good one, but because of last night you were more than ready to get home, eat a bunch of snacks and go to sleep.

Towards the end of your shift, rain started pouring and you couldn’t help the whine escaping from your lips, leaning back to the counter. You could hear your friend Stacey’s small laugh as she looked out the window, then back to you.

“It’s just summer rain love,” she said. “It’ll stop.”

“Yeah but I’ll have to walk to the subway under that rain and I don’t have a coat with me,” you pointed out. “Ugh. Great. I’ll look like a horror movie protagonist by the time I get there.”

“This is why I am a huge advocate of waterproof makeup.”

You hummed, chewing on the pen in your hand as you grabbed your phone to check the weather forecast, faintly hearing the door opening behind you.

“It says it’ll rain until—what?” you asked Stacey when you lifted your head to see her raise her brows at something by the tables area and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heart jumping to your throat the moment you did so.

“Logan?”

Jesus, he looked way too handsome. He gave you a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as if he was trying to get rid of the raindrops clinging to it, then approached the counter.

“Hey.”

“H—hi!” you said, your voice going way too high-pitched all of a sudden. “Uh, welcome! It’s so nice to see you, what—what can I get you?”

“I can take his order love,” Stacey said helpfully. “Your shift is over, get home before rain gets worse.”

“No no, I can stay.”

“I’m not here to eat actually,” Logan said, making you pull back a little.

“…Is Theo okay?” you asked, your stomach dropping as the thought hit you and he nodded his head.

“Oh he’s fine don’t worry,” he quickly assured you. “He was trying to name all the fish in the lake with his friends while I was leaving. I came to take you home actually.”

You blinked a couple of times.

“You drove all the way here from the institute just to take me home?” you asked just to make sure you had heard him right and he nodded again as if it was completely normal.

“You said your car is at the mechanic’s.”

One of these days, you were going to melt into a puddle in front of him.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said. “I’d hate to be a bother, and I’m sure you have other things to do, so I can just—”

“What did we say about you being too polite?” he asked, his voice almost chiding in a teasing manner, making warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips and a smile you couldn’t stop lit up your face, making you shift your weight, way too excited to just stand there.

“Um,” you said. “Just—just wait here okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I won’t.”

You took a step back, and rushed to the kitchen, making the line cook turn his head.

“Hey, leaving already?”

“Yeah. Paul, where’s the pie?”

“Over there,” he said, motioning at the counter. “What’s the rush?”

You grabbed the pie to put it into the container while Stacey entered the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, and more importantly, why didn’t you tell me he was this hot?!”

“What boyfriend?” Paul asked and Stacey motioned at the window.

“Look, right there.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you said, your cheeks burning and Paul stole a look out the window, then let out a whistle.

“I was going to try to win you over but holy shit, that’s one hot dude.”

“And get this, he came here to drive her home.”

“He’s just being nice.”

“Car sex in the rain, got it.”

“He is my friend!”

“Oh really? So you’d be okay if I went out there and gave him my number?”

You blinked a couple of times and scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah but he…” you trailed off, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. “He has a girlfri—he’s married,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. He’s not wearing a ring because he is having it cleaned, and also he has—he has this condition that he can’t have sex with anyone. A disease.”

Out of the corner of your eye through the small kitchen window, you could see Logan tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“When he does, his partner’s… lower region just falls off, and it’s very gruesome, and if you haven’t heard of that condition, it’s because he’s like the only person in the world who has it, they named the disease after him,” you added. “Doctors call him a medical wonder.”

Stacey turned to Paul.

“She’s so gonna fuck him in the car.”

“She’s not gonna do that!” you exclaimed and cleared your throat, pushing the box into a plastic bag. “I’m—I’m leaving, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Theo doesn’t need a sibling yet, use protection!” Stacey teased you and you shook your head, then pushed the kitchen door and stepped out.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly, your whole face on fire and you held up the plastic bag. “The pie as promised.”

He gave you a calm smile, his eyes darting over you.

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“Um no, but it’s fine—” you started but before you had the chance to say anything else, he had already taken his leather jacket off to put it over your shoulders.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Logan said as he opened the door for you and you stepped outside, Logan gently steering you to a truck with his hand on the small of your back, making you bite back a smile. As soon as you reached the truck and got in, you let out a breath and put the plastic bag on the back seat, then put your seatbelt on. Logan got in as well, then started the engine and began driving.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.”

“No problem.”

“I could just put it in the GPS or…” you trailed off when you noticed that there was no screen or phone or phone holder in sight so you nodded to yourself. “I don’t—you know, I’m against being a prisoner to technology myself so I can totally relate, and yeah I’ll just put my phone here.”

You quickly found your home address and touched the screen, then carefully placed it on the dashboard and stole a look at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s not about my condition.”

“Your condition?”

“Yeah, that disease you were talking about just now?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping as embarrassment hit you, your cheeks growing hot and a whine escaped from your lips.

“You heard that?”

“Mm hm.”

You slipped a little in your seat, burying your face into your hands, the sight making him chuckle as you took a deep breath and lifted your head to look at him again.

“I can explain,” you said. “It’s just that…Stacey is—you know, she’s incredibly nice but I don’t think she’s over her last boyfriend and I was trying to spare her feelings. Wait, did you want to get her number? Because if you did—”

“No.”

A small spark of hope shot through your system.

“Oh,” you managed to say. “Okay. Um, sorry I made up a nonexistent STD about you.”

“No problem,” he said with a smirk. “But for future reference, you might want to go with the wife lie. I can’t get diseases.”

You nodded slowly. “Because of clean eating?”

“Because of the X-gene.”

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “But Theo got sick multiple times after his powers showed.”

“Not for every mutant,” he said. “My body heals itself.”

“Against everything?”

“Mm hm.”

“What if we had a car crash right now?”

“I’ve been in car crashes, healed in a second.”

“What if someone attacked you with a knife?”

“Happened before, healed instantly.”

“What if someone shot you?”

“Multiple people did in multiple wars. I healed.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry, wars?”

“Like I said,” he said after a beat. “My body heals itself. Against injuries, and time.”

You frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard and as soon as the thought hit you, you gasped.

“Oh my God, Logan,” you said. “Did you know Marie Antoinette?”

“What?” he asked with a grimace, turning to look at you better. “What is it with you and Theo and France? He asked me if I knew Napoleon the other day.”

You raised your brows. “Did you?”

“No!” he said. “No, I was born in 1832.”

Holy shit, Julie was right.

You did have a thing for older men but having a crush on an almost 200-year-old man was just a little bit excessive, even for you.

A silence fell upon the car and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, just in disbelief,” you muttered. “Do you miss it? Back then?”

He shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “It was terrible. Now is better, it’s just a little too...”

“Chaotic?” you asked and he scoffed, then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “A little too chaotic.”

“I mean I wasn’t born in the 19th century but I know what you mean,” you said. “Seriously, if I could just live in a cabin in the woods with Theo and a cat, two dogs and a horse, I’d do it. I even have all their names.”

“What are the names?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said. “The cat will be Catapult—”

“Are you seriously going to name your cat after a pun?”

“Damn right I am,” you said, counting with your fingers. “The dogs are Underdog and Overdog.”

“Jesus.”

“And the horse’s name used to be Princess Pink Sparkle Her Highness when I was six, but now I think I’m just going to name her Hi-Horse so that someone can tell me to get off my high horse one day.”

Logan looked like he was in actual pain for some reason.

“But listen, the list used to go like, a cat, a dog and a horse, and I figured like, if I get one dog, why not have two, you know?” you asked. “I couldn’t possibly leave Underdog without a friend, because as much as I love cats, they can be kind of assholes sometimes to dogs, they can’t help it, so that’s how Overdog came into being, and there were also ducks named Comma, Colon, Semicolon, and Exclamation, and their babies were going to be named Parenthesis, Dash and Hyphen but then I realized that would mean I'd need to have the cabin next to a lake, and ever since I watched that one creepy horror movie I’m terrified of lakes at night because I really don’t think we should mess with any bodies of water and—” you managed to stop yourself and cleared your throat. “Just…feel free to stop me when I do this.”

“I like it when you do it,” Logan stated without taking his eyes off the road, as if he was talking about the weather and your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.

“…People usually hate it.”

“People are idiots.”

“Someone I used to know would cover my mouth whenever I rambled too much.”

“And you didn’t break their hand?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh, then shook your head.

“Nope,” you muttered. “That sounds like a good idea though.”

“It is,” he said, reaching out to grab the cigar resting by the gear stick, and opened his window a little.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You smoke cigars?”

“Mm hm,” he said, patting his jeans for a lighter, then looked around the car before his hazel eyes fell on you. “I think my lighter is in the jacket pocket, would you…?”

“Oh sure!” you said and felt around the leather jacket over your shoulders, then pulled out the lighter and flicked it, the warmth caressing your hand for a moment before you held it out for him. Logan stole a look at you, his gaze stopping on your face illuminated by the flame before he leaned in to hold the tip of the cigar to the flame.

You had no idea why, but it felt strangely intimate.

“Thanks,” he murmured and you offered him a hesitant smile, flicking the cap of the lighter back before carefully placing it beside the gear stick.

“Sure,” you said, trying to snap yourself out of it. “Um, I used to smoke cigarettes. Mostly to look cool.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really,” you admitted as he stole a look at the GPS, then back at the road. “Never a cigar though, do you mind if I try it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Are you trying to look cool right now?”

“Hey, if you don’t think I’m cool after learning my future pets’ names, I don’t think a cigar is gonna help it.”

That coaxed a chuckle out of him and he held out his hand so that you could take the cigar from him. The moment your fingertips brushed against his skin, his hand twitched, a warmth spreading from your hand to your whole body. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster and you brought the cigar to your lips with a trembling hand, then took a drag.

“Don’t inhale—” Logan started but you had already inhaled the smoke, a sharp pain stabbing you in the chest as soon as you did. Logan pulled over and through the coughs, you realized you were right in front of your apartment but you couldn’t even thank him as you pounded your chest with your fist, then took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes with one hand while handing him the cigar back with the other.

“Ugh, that’s terrible!” you whined. “You smoke that willingly?”

“You’re not supposed to inhale it.”

You made a face and wiped at your eyes again, sniffling.

“Not supposed to inhale it?” you repeated as you straightened your back to look at him better, your brows pulled together in almost a petulant manner. “What’s the point of it then?”

The calm smile that graced his lips was almost taunting and he reached out to wipe at the remnant of a tear under your eye with a knuckle, your breath catching in your throat.

“The taste, princess,” he said, his deep voice sending an excited shiver down your spine as he pulled his hand back. “The taste is the point.”

…Oh.

Oh you were so going to melt in front of him one of these days.

That wasn’t supposed to sound as suggestive as it did, you were sure of it but that did nothing to stop the fire spreading over your cheeks, making you shift a little in your spot before he nodded to the window.

“Is this your place?”

You had to force yourself to drag your eyes away from him and looked outside even if you knew where you were, then nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah that’s—that’s me.”

A silence fell upon the car and you cleared your throat, trying to snap out of the daze you were in.

“Thank you,” you said after a beat. “For…for all of this, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you looked outside again, now realizing the rain had stopped so you grabbed your phone off the dashboard, unbuckled your seatbelt and slipped the jacket off your shoulders, his unwavering gaze almost too hot on your skin.

“Good night Logan,” you said softly and opened your door to step out of the car, then made your way to the building. You climbed up the stairs, a giggle you couldn’t stop escaping from your lips as you unlocked your door, then stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you before leaning back against it.

“Alright…” you breathed out, your heart beating in your ears. “Yeah, okay. I definitely have a crush.”

[mythicalmaven]

(I used a screenshot of the original request in here, because I wans't able to reply to the original request anymore, whoops)

Here it finally is! Please let me know what you thought of it :) Requests are open btw! Feel free to request anything :) I'm considering to do kinktober as well this year, so leave your requests for that as well :)

Supposed To Be Mine - Charles Leclerc (ONESHOT)

Masterlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader ↳word count: 4.9K ↳warnings: friends to lovers, jealous!sex, jealousy, (minor) possessiveness, jealous Charles, smut, 18+(MDNI!), handjob (m!receiving), pinv ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & Charles gets jealous because their mutual friend decides to celebrate with Oscar& not him (or so he thinks). This results in pent up emotions, a heated argument & of course, jealous sex

It was Sunday, September 15th when you found yourself making your way through the paddock. The sun was shining bright and the atmosphere was making you feel ecstatic. You, a familiar face on the grid, had been here to support your friends. While you usually worked as a member of the F1 TV team during Grand Prix, this weekend you were off duty, free to fully enjoy the festivities of the Grand Prix.

Over the years, you'd built strong friendships with most of the grid, but there were three drivers you were particularly close to: Oscar, Charles, and Alex. Each friendship had grown naturally, but in distinct ways.

Alex was the one who felt like a brother from the start. You clicked immediately, sharing the same dry humor, hobbies, and an undeniable love for animals. He was always there for you—whether it was picking you up from the club after too many drinks or cheering you up when your heart got broken again. If there was one word to describe your bond, it was siblings.

Then there was Oscar, your roommate. He ticked all the boxes for the perfect best friend. Your friendship took time to blossom, but once it did, you both quickly realized how well you fit together, purely platonically. The thought of taking it further had never crossed your minds—it just wasn’t like that. After moving to Monaco, you’d struggled to find an apartment, so Oscar offered you a place to stay. A year later, you were still living together because, honestly, it was too much fun to stop.

Then last, but certainly not least, Charles. Your bond with him was something else entirely. The connection between you felt effortless, almost surreal. He was the friend you could call at any hour to talk about anything or nothing. You could spend hours in comfortable silence, never growing bored. But Charles was also the friend that you had secretly been in love with for years. You knew you shouldn't be, your friendship worth way too much to risk it for a stupid crush. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get over him. Every time you dated someone else, it always came back to Charles.

But even if you'd allow yourself to feel the way you did about him, you'd already given up the hope of him ever feeling the same despite your friends insisting otherwise, pointing out how he smiled brighter when he was around you or how his gaze lingered a little longer. You were unable to believe it, the scenario seeming to good to be true.

There were moments—fleeting, breathless moments—when you thought something was there. Moments where your faces hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. But right before anything could happen, one of you would pull back, retreating before the tension broke, both of you pretending it had never happened.

Charles had been in love with you longer than he cared to admit. Everything about you captivated him—the way your laughter filled a room, the ease with which you could calm him when he was frustrated, the way you just got him without him needing to explain a thing. Around you, he felt at ease and yet so unbelievably nervous. His heart would race whenever you were near, his palms would get sweaty, and he could feel the tension in his chest and stomach. There were so many times he’d wanted to pull you close, to feel your body against his, but something always stopped him.

It was fear. Fear that you would notice how much he felt for you and that it would scare you off. The thought of you realizing the depth of his feelings terrified him, because losing you, even as just a friend, was unthinkable. He tried to keep a distance for that reason, but it was impossible. You had this way of driving him wild without even trying, leaving him helpless in the wake of his emotions.

He’d fantasized about you more often than he dared to admit—so many nights spent alone in his apartment, hand slipping beneath his waistband, your name falling from his lips in breathless whispers. But it wasn’t just the physical desire; it was how much he felt when he was around you. You made him feel alive in a way no one else could.

And then, there was Oscar. The way you two were so close, always together, always laughing, sent a pang of jealousy through him. You said there was nothing romantic between you, but sometimes, Charles couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt something for him. It ate at him, the idea of someone else having what he wanted so desperately. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

The roar of engines echoed across the pit lane as the top three finishers of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix parked their cars by their respective signs. Charles finished 2nd, which made you incredibly excited for him, but your excitement today reached an even higher level by the one who finished first. Oscar just won his second Grand Prix in F1 and you were feeling so incredibly proud.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, engulfing Oscar's mom in a crushing hug, sharing your mutual excitement. You looked up at Oscar climbing out of the car, bumping his fist in the air, cheering enthusiastically.

"God, look at him, finally a win he is allowing himself to enjoy!" you chimed to his mom.

You watched as Oscar ran straight into the arms of his engineers, their shared happiness palpable in the air. The joy between them was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the scene.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Charles climbing out of his car in the background, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Post-race Charles always did things to you that you couldn't quite explain. You wanted to wave, but he seemed busy with his team, so you decided to congratulate him on his podium later.

Your attention shifted back to Oscar just as he approached his mum, pulling her into a warm embrace while carefully avoiding bumping her with his helmet.

"I'm so proud of you, darling!" she cooed, squeezing him a little tighter before they eventually pulled apart.

Oscar removed his helmet and reached up to pull off his balaclava, revealing a blissed-out expression. His smile was radiant, a mix of joy and relief, as if the weight of the race had melted away in that victorious moment.

He caught your eye, and his grin widened. "I did it! I actually did it!" he exclaimed, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe it.

"You did! You really did!" you gushed, your smile matching his as you shared in his happiness.

Without warning, Oscar launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you over the fence you’d been leaning against. He hugged you tightly, spinning you around as both of you laughed, the sound of your shared joy echoing across the pit lane.

The cameras were all pointed in your direction, capturing the moment. To you and Oscar, it was nothing more than two best friends celebrating a hard-fought victory. But to the outside world, the scene looked far more intimate than it felt.

Charles stood at a distance, watching the moment unfold. His chest tightened as he took in the sight of you and Oscar together, laughter and smiles shared so easily between you. You’d told him there was nothing going on with Oscar, that the two of you were just best friends—but looking at you now, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

It hurt. It hurt to see you in Oscar’s arms, when he wished so desperately that it was him instead. He felt a wave of frustration, jealousy swirling inside him. Oscar was his friend, someone he genuinely liked, but seeing you together like that made it hard to think straight. The fear that Oscar might steal you away—his girl, even though you weren’t even his—gnawed at him.

“She said there was nothing between them,” he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself.

Pierre appeared beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think it’s not what it looks like, mate," he offered, sensing Charles’ mood.

Charles shook his head, frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. "That’s what they always say when they’re denying it," he replied, his voice low. "I know she’s single, and she can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants, but… it just hurts."

Pierre gave him a sympathetic look, but Charles couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to punch something, not because he hated Oscar—he liked Oscar—but because seeing you so close to him made him feel like he was losing you, even though you were never his to begin with.

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Later in the day, as the adrenaline from the race began to wear off, you found yourself searching for Charles. You had spent the afternoon immersed in the celebrations with Oscar and the McLaren team, reveling in their victory. Despite the fun, your thoughts kept drifting back to Charles.

Navigating through the bustling paddock, you scanned the area for any sign of him. You wanted to offer your congratulations and express how proud you were, but Charles seemed to have vanished.

When you stepped into the Ferrari motorhome, you were greeted by Carlos. The Spaniard offered you a small, knowing smile. "Hey," he said as he approached you.

"Hey, have you seen Charles?" you asked, absentmindedly twirling a stray strand of hair.

Carlos's smile turned apologetic. "He already left for the hotel. Said something about not feeling up to it today."

Your heart sank a bit. "Oh, I wanted to congratulate him earlier, but I got caught up with the celebrations."

A flicker of realization crossed Carlos's face. "Ah, that explains why he seemed so on edge when he came back here."

Confusion clouded your expression. "What do you mean?"

Carlos’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "I think Charles got a bit unsettled seeing you so close with Oscar instead of him."

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Why would he be annoyed? My best friend won the race. Of course I celebrated with him. It's not like I didn't want to celebrate with Charles, it's just that Oscar is my best friend. And he also deserves the attention when he achieves something amazing like this."

Carlos’s smirk widened slightly. "That’s exactly his problem."

You stood there, grappling with the situation, struggling to find the right words. Carlos seemed to sense your confusion and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Maybe you should talk to him. There might be more going on between you two than you realize."

His words hung in the air, adding a new layer to your thoughts as you considered the possibility of unspoken feelings and misunderstandings.

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"You seemed awfully intimate with Piastri this afternoon, anything unfolding there?" you heard Alex tease on through the phone.

He had called you had texted that you were on the way back to the hotel, something you often did to just gossip and rant about everything that went on.

You rolled your eyes, and huffed "Why does everybody keep saying that. Not even in my wildest dreams, ew" you whined "I know he's good looking, I'm not blind, but the idea of doing something with him revolts me just as much as it revolts him"

The chuckle that Alex let out was audible to you "Well, to be fair, it didn't look like nothing on camera" he started, another chuckle leaving his lips "Have you checked your social media lately? Apparently the camera's catched Charles' reaction to your little moment with Oscar. The video is going quite viral. He is shooting daggers at Oscar, man. The jealousy is literally burning in his eyes"

You sighed "Don't, Alex" you whispered "Don't give me hope"

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You arrived at Charles's hotel room with a mix of anxiety and frustration swirling inside you. His abrupt disappearance after the celebration, coupled with his avoidance of your calls, had left you feeling unsettled and concerned. Your knuckles rapped against the door, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. When Charles finally opened it, his face was a mask of irritation, the tension in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, stepping past him before he could react.

Charles’s eyes were dark with frustration. “Nothing,” he snapped, but the rigidity in his stance and the clenched fists he tried to hide told a different story.

You let out a sigh, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I know you’re lying,” you insisted, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, trying to steady your breathing. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”

Charles stood with his back to you, his breathing shallow and uneven. “Why him?” he finally asked, his voice strained and raw.

Confusion creased your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Charles’s frustration finally erupted. “Why did you celebrate with Oscar and not with me? I finished second. I deserved some attention too.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the rising tension. “Oscar’s my best friend too. This win was a big deal for him. I wanted to be there for him. I tried to find you, but you were already gone.”

Charles’s eyes flashed with hurt and jealousy, a dark storm clouding his gaze. “It feels like you care more about him than me. It fucking hurts to see you so close to him, probably even—”

His words struck a nerve, causing irritation to flare within you. “Oscar and I are just friends, Charles.” You stated, your anger bubbled over. “And so what if it was more? Why does it matter to you? I’m not your property. You dont get to decide who I spend time with. You’re my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

Charles’s face flushed with frustration, his voice rising with each word. “Merde, for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to be your best friend!”

His declaration stunned you, a mix of hurt and anger surging within you, causing tears to well up in your eyes. “Well, if you don’t want to be my best friend, I might as well go back to Oscar then. Since, according to you, that’s where I prefer to be. You apparently know me better than I do!”

Without waiting for a response, you turned to leave, but Charles’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a desperate grip. His eyes burned with an intense emotion, a mixture of longing and possessiveness that was almost palpable. Before you could react, he pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was both fierce and consuming.

The kiss was rough, charged with pent-up emotions. Charles’s lips moved against yours with an urgent hunger, a reflection of the depth of his feelings. The heat of his body pressed against yours, every touch and caress infused with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your curves, claiming you with each possessive stroke. You could feel the undeniable pressure of his arousal pressing against you, intensifying the moment.

He guided you gently back toward the bed, his touch both tender and commanding. Slowly, he lowered you down onto it, his hands caressing your sides with a reverence that spoke of his deep feelings for you. He leaned over you, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t want to be your best friend,” he said, his voice heavy with desire. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

You were taken aback by his declaration, the words resonating deeply within you. Before you could respond, Charles’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as he explored your body with a mix of urgency and tenderness.

You moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as his touch ignited a fire within you. Charles’s arousal was evident, his body pressing against yours in a way that heightened your senses. “Tell me you think about me at night and not him,” he demanded, his voice husky and filled with longing.

The world around you seemed to dissolve as Charles’s touch and kisses overwhelmed your senses. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, caressing, igniting every nerve with a mix of desperation and adoration. His touch was both possessive and tender, his kisses deep and demanding.

“Tell me,” he urged, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me you scream my name when you come and not his.”

You met his intense gaze, your voice breathless and filled with yearning. “Only you, Charles. It has always been you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction, his expression softening slightly as he continued his intimate exploration. He guided your hands to his jeans, his breathing ragged with desire. “Have you ever thought about him like this?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Touched him like this?”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and affection. “It’s only you, Charles,” you replied, your voice sultry. “I never saw Oscar that way.”

Charles’s frustration and desire mingled as he felt your touch, his body tensing and his control slipping. He moaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that reflected his overwhelmed state. His hands gripped the edge of the bed for support as you palmed him through his jeans, your touch eliciting a series of desperate groans from him.

Unable to hold back any longer, you undid the button of his jeans and slid your hand inside, taking him in your grasp. Charles gasped, his breathing coming in short, erratic bursts. “F-Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice strained. “That feels so good.” His body tensed and trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of your touch. “J-Just like that,” he gasped, his voice a desperate, needy growl. “Show me you’re mine. I want you to think about me every time you touch yourself. I hope that after tonight, you can never touch another man without thinking about me.”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with passion. “It’s already been like that for years,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Charles’s gaze softened for a moment, but his need took over. He flipped you back onto the bed with a sudden, urgent intensity. His movements were driven by a deep-seated desire, his lips finding yours again, kissing you with a feverish passion that made your heart race.

As he undressed you, his touch was both deliberate and passionate. He removed the last bits of his clothing with a mix of urgency and tenderness, his hands lingering on your skin, savoring the feel of you beneath him. He paused, looking into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me, do you want this as much as I do?”

You nodded, your voice breathless with anticipation. “Yes, Charles. I want you. I want all of you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he positioned himself above you. His hands continued their intimate exploration, his kisses trailing down your neck and shoulders with a mix of urgency and tenderness. Each touch was a declaration of his intense feelings, a blend of passion and possession that left you craving more.

As the intensity of the moment built, Charles’s control wavered. He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of need and desire. “Tell me you’re mine,” he urged, his voice a rough whisper. “I want to hear you say it, mon amour”

You looked at him, your body trembling with desire as he continued to touch and kiss

you. “I’m yours, Charles,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both need and certainty.

Charles’s expression softened into one of profound relief and adoration, but a trace of jealousy lingered in his eyes, his gaze never leaving yours. As he positioned himself between your legs, there was a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness in his touch. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice filled with deep emotion and a hint of a possessive edge.

With that, he entered you slowly, his movements tender yet unmistakably possessive. His thrusts were gentle and loving, but each one was infused with a sense of claiming, as though he was marking you as his own. His kisses were gentle but urgent, his lips traveling down your neck as he began to suck and nibble, leaving marks that would clearly show his affection and his possessiveness.

You gasped, feeling the intensity of his touch. “Charles, be careful. They will be visible,” you said, your voice a mixture of concern and pleasure.

Charles’s eyes darkened with a mix of satisfaction and jealousy. “That’s the point,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl filled with both desire and a possessive undertone. “I want him to see and know that you belong to me. I want him to see what he’s missing, that you’re mine and mine alone.”

His words stirred something deep within you, causing a moan to escape your lips that was loud and unrestrained, a testament to the intense pleasure you were experiencing. Your hand instinctively traveled up to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled gently but firmly. The sensation of his hair being tugged caused him to shiver, and he let out a deep, guttural moan that reverberated against your skin.

Charles’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He groaned softly, his breath coming in ragged bursts as the pull on his hair heightened his arousal. “Fuck...” he whispered, his voice trembling with both pleasure and disbelief. The feeling of your fingers in his hair only intensified his longing, making him feel as though he were losing control. “Merde… that feels so good,” he muttered, his tone rough and desperate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The way you tugged at his hair drove him to new heights of pleasure, his moans growing louder and more fervent as he lost himself in the sensations. Each pull sent a jolt of electricity through him, making his movements more urgent and fervent, as though he were trying to convey just how deeply your touch affected him.

As he continued, his thrusts maintained a balance of gentle passion and possessive claim, his hands gripping you with a mix of tenderness and assertion. The rhythm of his movements was both caring and commanding, a reflection of his deep, conflicted emotions. His kisses left a trail of marks, each one a silent declaration of his fierce, consuming love and possessiveness.

Charles’s eyes lock onto yours, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “I-I’m so close,” he gasps, his voice strained with the intensity of the moment. The desperate need in his eyes makes your heart race, his body pressing into yours with a fervor that only heightens your own arousal.

You can barely hold back your own pleasure, the sensations coursing through you almost overwhelming. “Me too” you moan, your voice trembling as you inch closer to the edge. “Come for me, Charles,” 

Your encouragement is the final push he needs, and his body reacts instantly. The combination of your words and the electric tension between you drives him over the edge. The urgency in Charles’s movements and the heat of his gaze as tumbles over the edge draws you to the peak of your ecstasy with him.

As the two of you reached the peak of your intimacy, Charles’s moans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of pleasure and connection that echoed through the room. The shared release was an explosion of ecstasy that left you both trembling and gasping, entwined in the aftermath of your union. 

When the world finally settled and the waves of pleasure began to recede, Charles held you close, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he whispered, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You smiled through your own breathless satisfaction, responding softly, “I could say the same to you.”

Charles’s expression softened further as he kissed you tenderly, his hands caressing your skin with a gentleness that spoke of his deep affection. The moment was filled with a profound sense of connection and fulfillment, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of your bond.

masterlist

[bunnys-kisses]

retired!price liked that you had daddy issues. aw, did someone not have a functioning relationship with their father as a child and now has to find that relationship in older men? aw, poor doll. price was more than okay with being called 'daddy' as long as you called him 'captain' too, especially when you were on your knees. while you got off to having an older man praise you, he got off to a pretty little thing calling him captain. you even went as far as to worship his strong physic, how easily he could bend, flip, turn and press into you.

didn't help that your pussy became a fixation for him.

he was close to fifty, his hip had a habit of locking from time to time. he had been hearing about it for years that it was time to have a family. even simon had managed to make a family, price was still hung up on young tail that he could bully his fat cock into. while most younger women were flavours of the week with no string attached. price made sure to attach every metaphorical string onto you. he had a copy of your apartment key. he added a profile for you on his streaming services. he knew on wednesdays you enjoyed pasta, but hated cooking on the weekend. he knew everything about his precious baby girl. you folded into his praise and always were eager to please. and that was what price loved about you. so imagine his shock (anger) when you told him that you thought you'd have to end your arrangement because you met a guy at your university. and when he asked why, you simply said, "i have to grow up at some point.", and that hit price in the head like an ice pick. if you wanted to grow up so badly, baby girl. there were other ways to do it.

the broken condom held weight in price's pocket while you had few drinks during your last 'date' together, he waited till you got all soft because of the wine. till you were on his side of the booth with your leg over his lap and your face pressed against his bicep. you ran your hand across his chest and giggled, "you're taking this whole break up thing so well." and he petted your head, watching you fold into him further, "like you said, you need to grow up." but you both had different definitions of 'growing up'. for you it meant getting over you daddy issues, but to him it was making him a daddy, for real. you giggled further while he gave you another glass of wine. when you tried to say no, he simply pushed it closer to you, "don't want to waste the bottle." and so easily you were in price's grip.

price took you three times that night. first was in the backseat of his expensive car. he pressed you into a corner, claimed that he needed more space for his larger body. your hazy vision was transfixed on the glimmer of his gold chain against his hairy chest in the low light. your poor body bent in such ways while he pace was relentless. he admired your unsteady gaze and your heavy breathing. he continued to move against you with such a pace that the whole car rocked. but don't worry, the parking lot was dead at that hour. you could scream your head off and no one would hear either of you. he did however put a tear in your panties. right in the crotch area. he sighed and said that he'd need to buy you something a little. while he loved the cheap pairs you owned, he thought his woman deserved something a little nicer. the future mrs. price needed to look next to perfection.

then he fingered you heavily in his bed and watched you squirm. he had to make sure every drop got deep enough before he bullied your sweet pussy once more. he loved the sight of you, still so fucked out from prior. you were in a daze in the car ride home. your breathing was heavy when he pushed the skirt of your dress up a little and teased your cunt while he drove. only to go further once you were naked on his bed. he watched your ass jiggle with each of his power thrusts while he took you from behind. he felt like a mad man while he fucked you. he was determined. he only got to where he was in his career because of grit and determination. he wouldn't back down to a challenge, especially when the stakes were so high. your pussy need to be bred, you needed to be with price. he never wanted to hear anything about another man ever again. price would hate to take drastic measures if another man tried to get in his way. if you needed a collar or a tattoo, the taste of his cum constantly your lips or leaked into your panties, price would do it all to ensure that you were his. the most effective way to ensure that was what kept him going through two rounds of sex without any pains. to get you pregnant. you had already forgotten about the broken condom, it still was in price's pocket! no use using it now, even bother giving the illusion that he wasn't breeding you.

the third time was when you tried to leave the next morning, he had you upside down on the bed. your bottom half on the mattress while all the blood rushed to your head as you tried not to fall on your head. price put bruises on top of bruises. your poor cunt was creamy with promises of the future. a future with him. the blood rush made you cum twice on his cock, adding fresh slick to his coated cock. you thought that older men were supposed to slow down with age. but it felt like price was even quicker than before. his pace brutal, almost like punishment for trying to leave him. but price didn't get to be captain because he followed one plan. he was going to ease you into married life, slowly make you the perfect woman for him. he was traditional that way. church wedding, the white dress, the vows. that would all happen, but might take a little longer. he wasn't too sure that a baby bump would fit nicely in a wedding dress. the thought of you pregnant, trapped to him made him eagerly finish in you two times. and when he got you back up onto the bed, you were fucked out. when you managed to collect your clothes and stagger out of his flat by mid-afternoon, you thought you made it in time to the pharmacy to get emergency plan b.

you prayed, and you never prayed. you promised three versions of 'god' that you'd convert to their religion if the pill worked. but three deities failed you and a month later price was in your apartment with his hands on the plastic pregnancy test. he scratched his beard and looked at you. he tried so hard to put on his best acting face. "that's a real shame, baby girl." he said in that rough voice of his that got you in trouble in the first place. he leaned back a little in your kitchen chair and placed the test back down on the table, "always wanted to be a father." he frowned a little bit, "never got the chance too. they said when i retired that the chances were low of me havin' a baby..." he looked at you. you should've known he was lying. his swimmers obviously weren't shot by how easily you got pregnant. you felt bad, almost like you were burdening him with getting pregnant. that it was your fault. you rung your hands and admitted softly, "we can try... we can make a family." and price smiled, "oh, doll." then got up to embrace you. you sniffled and cried a little in his strong chest. he held you in his strong arms. he was your protector even though his cock was straining in his jeans at the knowledge that he fundamentally changed you.

your body, your life, everything. when he released you from the hug, he got down on his knees. made a point to make a small 'huff' noise from being down on his 'bad' knee before he pushed up your t-shirt and pressed a kiss against your stomach. he said to you, "don't worry, love. daddy'll take care of ya." then gave that smile that wrapped around you like a vice. <3

[starkeyisthelastname]

found the picture on the right on pinterest and felt like writing a little cute moment for our pornstar!rafe 💖😩

Job aside, you and Rafe both loved the camera and capturing every little moment. You were still sore, having just given birth to your second child a couple of days ago. Your baby girl was the perfect addition to you and Rafe’s family. It was hard to believe you both now lived in a home together and shared two children. You both tried to push aside the fact one day you would have to explain to your kids what you did as a career. Right now you both were focused on having a toddler and a newborn.

You brought the camera up to take a picture of you and the sleeping baby girl in your arms. You were wearing next to nothing, but that was the most comfortable. You were exhausted and breastfeeding, not caring what you looked like. You still wanted to capture these precious moments, no matter how tired you were.

“Taking more pictures again?” Rafe's deep voice pulled out of your photography session, your head turning to meet his tall frame that was standing in the bathroom doorway. He was shirtless, toned upper body flexing as he leaned against the frame. “Lemme me see her.” He motioned you closer, blue eyes watching as you walked over and slowly handed him the tiny baby.

Rafe was so natural with both of your children, something that took you by surprise as he was so closed off and held a lot of trauma. He vowed to never make his kids feel the same way his dad made him feel. He held the baby girl protectively, unaware you had brought the camera up to take a picture of the heart warming moment in front of you. He was such a good daddy, something you knew he had stressed constantly about during both of your pregnancies.

“Little man’s knocked out.” He said, referring to your son whom much like Rafe was a handful. He was attached to the both of you, and having a new baby at home was going to be an adjustment. You hummed, setting the camera aside as you followed Rafe back into the master bedroom. The little boy was in fact asleep, his face all Rafe’s as he slept soundly in the king size bed.

It was hard to believe that this was the same man that you never thought would confess his feelings. You climbed in bed carefully, watching as Rafe walked over to his side with the baby still in his muscled arms. “Can’t believe I got two kids and shit now.” He said with a laugh, his large palm coming to rest on the baby girl’s back as he looked down the sleeping boy between the two of you.

He once thought that his bleach blonde hair, signature mustache and fucking on camera was the only thing he ever would be good for. Not that the ‘pussy slayer’ wasn’t entirely gone, he couldn’t wait until the doctor gave the clear to have sex again. But for the first time in his life he felt truly happy with everything he had. The girl he was crazy in love with and two beautiful kids, something that he never thought he was worth having.

[wandascrush]

Runaway Bride

Summary: There’s only one person you really want on your wedding day

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Weddings, love, crying, running away, lots of angst

Song: Someday I’ll get it by Alek Olsen

You were out of breath by the time you got there, crisp cold air hurting your chest. Your throat was as dry as sandpaper. Natasha was there, waiting for you like she always was. Your legs were tired from running, broken nude heels in your hands, beautiful and forgotten. The white flowy, soft fabric of your dress touched your body delicately, dragging and picking up the color from the wet mossy grass. Sore legs lowered down to sit on the grass next to the girl who once captured your heart…but she was silent. Just you two, alone. The air was so cold it hurt your bones. 

   You rested your head against the large oak tree that sat behind you two, making a little cove under its branches. So many thoughts were racing through your mind, “I’ve ruined everything. What will people think? I have to say sorry.” But once you saw your favorite spot waiting for you, with your favorite girl, everything melted away. You shouldn’t even be here right now, you shouldn’t have been thinking about Natasha, but she was the only person that ran through your mind. 

   “Long time no see, Natty.” 

    You’ve gotten used to her silence though, it kind of became her new character trait these days. Sometimes you pretended it didn’t hurt anymore, but it always did. A little more each time. Rain droplets started to fall around you, wetting every inch of dirt and stone. More green from the grass started to slowly seep into the beautiful white fabric of your dress. You knew her deep gaze was on you, looking at you with pity…maybe with love? 

   Your chest tightened as you blinked hard, vision blurring, “I was supposed to get married today, you know,” a sad laugh escaped your throat as you played with the fabric of your dress, “I looked beautiful. My hair was done and my makeup was perfect and-I was supposed to be happy today,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I was supposed to be standing at that altar, looking into her eyes, promising forever. But I couldn’t even say the words. Because every time I looked at her, I saw you. And I hated myself for it.”

 “I’m so tired of missing you…and funny enough, I thought getting married would make me happier. But all I see is you. When I say my vows, it’s your name they’re written for.”

I think of you all the time, now that you’re gone.

    The rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking through the dress. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds and angry wind. Digging your manicured fingers into the soft mud, it felt like the only grounding thing. The feeling of mud seeping under your nails was the only anchor you had.

   You checked your phone, trying to wipe the rain off of it and realized that you’d already been there for over an hour with Natasha. You needed to get back, answer all the missed calls and texts. This would be the last time you two saw each other…something inside you was certain about it. Shaky legs stood up, using the big oak tree as support and grabbing the bouquet you forgot about next to you. 

   You slowly kneeled down in front of your first love, first everything, and pressed your forehead against her cold grave stone, “If love could have saved you,” breaths came in short, sharp gasps, salty tears falling into your mouth, “you would have lived forever, my Natasha.” Soft lips kissed the engraving of her name as you gently lied the bouquet down for her, grabbed your broken heels, and said goodbye. It took all your strength to not look back as you walked out of the private cemetery.

[mapis-putellas]

[ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀᴛꜱ ]

Summary: You never intended to meet the love of your life on a random Friday at work, and you definitely never thought she’d be world famous footballer Alexia Putellas.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

You had a total of five new Spanish words in your vocabulary by the time you got home that evening, your phone tightly clutched in your hands as you distractedly stumble into your apartment and kick off your shoes before closing and locking the door behind you.

It was all beginners stuff admittedly, but you figure you had to start somewhere. Throwing yourself into the deep end by trying to learn full sentences this soon would only end in disaster; as much as you would like that to not be the case.

In all honesty, you weren't too confident in being able to learn a whole other language. You'd never been able to do so before, especially in school when you'd been forced to take French. The only thing you could remember how to say was hello and my name is. If you dug deep down perhaps you could remember how to count to ten too, but that was really all you had.

But Alexia seemed to know English okay, so perhaps you just needed to learn how to understand Spanish not necessarily how to speak it. Was that the easy way out? Probably. But it was definitely a little less daunting.

Your socked feet pad softly against the wooden floor as you make your way through to the kitchen with the intention of fixing something quick for dinner, settling quickly on some craft Mac and cheese that you immediately grab out of the pantry. It may not be healthy, but it was definitely tasty and right now that was all you needed.

You set your phone down, still open on Duolingo as you fill a pan with water and set it down onto the heat. Leaving that to do its thing, you hurry through to your bedroom to change into some comfy clothes. You'd been in a shirt and jeans all day, and it was pretty much safe to say you were over it. People who wore jeans to relax were complete psychopaths and no one could ever convince you otherwise and that's not even mentioning people that sleep in a bra.

It wasn't long until you were back into the kitchen clad in a pair of pyjama shorts along with an oversized shirt, your dirty clothes kicked to the corner of your room to be dealt with later. By now, the water was boiling, and you pour the box of noodles into it before giving it a quick stir and disposing the box into the garbage.

Your phone buzzes against the counter just seconds later, and you scramble over to it, hoping it was the beautiful blonde you'd not been able to stop thinking about. When you see it was in fact her, you can't help but grin elatedly and pick up your phone, eyes skimming over the message.

Alexia: Hola. I hope you got home okay. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?

You: Hey Alexia. I did get home okay, thank you. I hope you did too. And yes I'm free :)

Was the smiley face too passive aggressive? It looked as though it was. Oh well, hopefully she thinks you were just trying to be nice.

Knowing that watching your phone for her reply would only make you all the more impatient, you drain the now cooked noodles at the sink before adding the powdered cheese and butter, giving it a thorough stir before shoving a spoonful into your mouth.

Yum.

The familiar buzzing greets you again just moments later, and your hands were reaching for your phone before your brain had given them permission to do so, the spoon still hanging from your mouth.

Alexia: Sí, I got home okay. Is one okay?

You: one is perfect

Alexia: I will pick you up

You: Sounds good

Alexia: I will see you then

You: Umm, Alexia?

Alexia: Sí?

You: Don't you need my address?

Alexia: Oh

Alexia: Yes please

You smile softly as you send her your address, liking the thumbs up she sends in response before locking your phone and tucking into the waistband of your shorts. Grabbing your bowl of Mac and cheese, you curl up on the corner of the couch beneath your favourite blanket and turn on the tv, only taking a few minutes unlike your usual twenty to decide on a show.

*

You were up the next day a little before ten am, the sun shining in through the partially open curtains opposite that you'd inevitably forgotten to close before finally dragging yourself to bed last night. Groaning quietly as you stretch your arms above your head, you let out a quiet exhale before kicking off and blankets and hauling yourself out of bed. You instinctively shiver when your feet meet the cold floor, yanking the hoodie strewn at the end of your bed over your head as you make your way through to the bathroom.

The sight of your reflection in the mirror makes you glad you have so much time before your date with Alexia, because it was evident you had a whole lot of work to do.

And with just ten minutes to spare, you find yourself standing in front of the mirror in your living room completely ready to go. Completely oblivious to Alexia's plans, you'd decided on an outfit that was more or less fit for any occasion. A loose white v-neck T-shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. It was warm out today, so you'd tied a thin jacket around your waist. The chance of it actually raining was incredible low, but not completely impossible and you'd rather be safe than sorry.

Your makeup was light and natural, hair pulled up into a half up half down braid with a few loose strands left out to frame your face.

Not a hundred percent happy with how you look but figuring there was nothing you could really do about it, you blow out a deep breath through your mouth before grabbing your keys and wallet from the coffee table and making your way over to the front door. You feel the butterflies in your stomach return with a vengeance as you lock up behind you, and you hoped to god, as you make your way into the elevator and press the button to the ground floor, that it didn't show on your face.

Alexia would be here any minute, and whilst you could almost guarantee she'd be nervous too, you didn't want that to be the only thing you had in common resulting in a less than ideal first date.

You shake off the residual nerves as the elevator doors open, stepping out into the small lobby area just in time for the clock to reach one. As luck would have it, an unfamiliar car you assume is Alexia pulls into the small carpark just as you step outside. You pause by the entrance of your apartment building as you watch her pull her car to a stop, smiling slightly when you see her reach up to pull down the sun visor to get one last look at her reflection before pushing open the door and stepping out of the car.

The smile was immediately wiped from your face the second you see in the outfit she was wearing, your pulse suddenly pounding loudly in your ears as your fingers clench tightly around your phone.

On her body was a white, fitted cropped tank top that was not hiding the fact she wasn't wearing a bra, showing off her tanned, toned arms adorned with a few tattoos and a silver watch on her right wrist. The tank top also gives you a clear view of her...six pack?!

You make a futile effort of ignoring the way your legs turn into jelly as your eyes drop further down her body, taking in the pair of black, high waisted sweatpants that hugged her waist perfectly.

Oh yeah. She was definitely way out of your league. How on earth could someone like her ask someone like you out? You absolutely did not know, but right now, you couldn't quite find it in you to care. She looked insanely good, and only you had the pleasure of seeing that so up close and personal.

Alexia was soon making her way towards you whilst lifting the pair of sunglasses she was wearing to the top of her head, and you smile somewhat bashfully as you watch her look you up and down just as you had done with her. By the way her lips creep up into a satisfied smile you assume she likes what she was seeing and makes you feel a little more confident about the outfit you'd chosen.

Soon, she was in front of you, and the pounding in your heart amplifies when she leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. The feeling of her lips lingers as she pulls away, and you have to refrain from reaching up to touch it knowing that might make you seem a little weird.

"You look really, really good." You murmur with a tentative smile, and Alexia flushes almost bashfully as she tucks her hands into the back pockets of her sweatpants. Your eyes are immediately drawn to her arms at the casual action, and it was only when Alexia pointedly clears her throat do you realise what you were doing.

"Gracias, amor. You do too." She returns the compliment, thankfully not calling you out on your shameless staring as she holds out her hand. She does, however, raise an eyebrow teasingly, and you could so no more than shrug noncommittally you slot your hand into her own. With arms like that, how could you not stare? Asking you not to do so would be criminal.

Alexia seems pleased at your lack of embarrassment, giving your hand a soft squeeze as she gestures towards her car. "Are you ready to go?"

There was a confidence about her today that wasn't there yesterday giving you a little insight into how she may act around the people she both knows and trusts, and whilst a part of you thinks it may be a false bravado due to the fact she barely knows you, you had a feeling that if you played your cards right, one day it might end up being for real. 

One could only hope right? 

"Of course." You respond.

Her skin was both soft and warm, slender fingers intertwining with your own with an ease that you didn't quite expect as she guides you over to the car. She opens the passenger door without hesitation, waiting for you to slip inside and buckle up before rounding the vehicle and slipping into the drivers seat.

You get a hint of the perfume she was wearing as she situates herself, reaching back for her own seatbelt and buckling up. It smells like vanilla, you think. Subtle yet sweet. Just like her.

"So, can I know where we're going?" You question, eyes following her hands as she pulls down her sunglasses so they sat back on her nose. She glances at you as she starts the car, her lips quirking up into a teasing smile.

"It is a secret. I promise you will love it." She assures, checking her mirrors before backing out of the spot she'd parked in.

"What? Come on. I don't even get a hint?" You plead playfully, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Alexia smiles as she pulls out onto the main road, both hands steady on the wheel. "It will be fun?” She offers, and you huff out a quiet breath of amusement as you cross one leg over the other.

"Alexia, that's not a hint. I find so many things fun. Does it have something to do with food? Is it some sort of activity? Will we be getting messy?"

Alexia merely shrugs her shoulders as she purses her lips with a soft smile. She leans back in her seat a little, laying her hand palm up on the console between you. Her fingers wiggle invitingly, and you make direct eye contact with her as you rest your hand atop of her own, slotting your fingers in between hers.

"If I tell you, it will not be a surprise." She squeezes your hand softly.

You tilt your head to the side. "I am at least dressed right?"

"Sí," Alexia nods, her hand remaining intertwined with yours as she glances your way before bringing her attention back to the road. "You look perfect. Prometo."

"That means promise, right?" You check.

Alexia glances at you again, the awe in her voice evident as she speaks. "Muy bien!" She praises fondly, and you can't help but smile so wide your eyes crinkle up at the corners.

You knew knowing one word in Spanish wasn't really that big a deal, but the proudness in Alexia's voice makes you want to do it a thousand times over.

In the twenty minute car ride to wherever she was taking you, you share small talk about the basic ins and outs of your lives. You tell her your current favourite song, Alibi, and she tells you the football team she supports. Barcelona. You tell her a little about your family; how many siblings you had and what job your mom did, and she tells you her favourite things to do in her free time. Traveling and playing football. All in all it was pretty basic information, but you had to start somewhere, right?

You were just on the topic of your mediocre Spanish knowledge when Alexia slows the car down, indicating left and pulling into an unfamiliar car park. "You have been practicing?" She asks, pulling her hand out of your own putting on the handbrake.

"A little." You admit somewhat distractedly as you look around your surroundings in a futile effort at trying to figure out where you were. "Okay, where are we? Can I please know now?" You turn back round to face her.

"Soon." she smirks, and you glare at her playfully as you step out of the car, waiting for Alexia to do the same before once again reaching for her hand. They intertwine effortlessly, Alexia locking her car before gently guiding you down the street, only walking a couple hundred yards before gently pulling you to a stop in front a somewhat small looking building.

Through the window, you could see people sat at tables painting what looked to be pottery, and your eyes widen in pure delight as you turn to face an unsure looking Alexia.

"Is this-"

"Oh my god!" You laugh, jumping up and down slightly. "This is definitely not what I imagined but it's perfect. Let's go in! What are you going to paint? I think I know what I want to paint. Maybe we could paint each other something! This is so exciting!"

Alexia watches you ramble with a small grin on her face as she allows you to push the door open and all but pull her inside. You were both immediately greeted by an employee who was quick to get you all set up with your aprons, brushes and paints, both Alexia and you deciding that out of the two tables offered that you would take the one in the back for a little extra privacy. After setting down your things, the kind employee leads you to the shelves that held so many different pottery items it was hard to differentiate what was what.

Despite that, you can't help but be excited when you're both told to take your pick out of any of them.

You hook an arm around Alexia's waist so you could talk to her without disturbing anyone else. "Which one are you picking?"

Alexia tilts her head towards you as she loosely throws her arm over your shoulder. "You said you wanted to paint one for each other, sí? You pick for me, and I will pick for you."

"Okay," you agree easily, keeping your arm around her as your eyes flicker over the shelves. Though it takes a few minutes, you do finally settle on an adorable looking fox. "This one good?"

"Sí. Perfect. This one for me, yes?" Alexia holds out the one she'd chosen, it being a penguin. You nod your head, giving her waist a squeeze before guiding her back over to your designated table. Initially, she'd been sat opposite you, bur with a short glance your way, she moves her things over to the seat next you before sitting down.

You hide your smile at this, but do scoot your chair a little closer to her own so you weren't so far apart. Alexia glances at you, an eyebrow raised, but you merely gesture to the seat opposite that she'd abandoned earning yourself a guilty smile. With a soft laugh that Alexia mimics yet chooses to stifle, you hand over your fox and take her penguin in return.

"So," you start, picking up a paintbrush and dipping it into the black paint. "How did you come up with this idea?" You begin dragging your brush over the back of the penguin, using your free hand to hold it still which results in your fingers immediately becoming covered in paint.

Alexia hums quietly as she swirls her own brush around in the orange paint. "Uhhh, Mapi help...helped me come up with a few ideas. This was the best one."

"Yeah?" You glance her way, Alexia meeting your gaze with a tentative smile as she too begins painting.

"Sí. One of the ideas was...a balloon ride?" She tries unsurely, dipping her brush back into the orange paint.

You freeze mid stroke. "A hot air balloon ride?" You ask incredulously, and Alexia nods somewhat distractedly as she focuses on not getting any paint on her skin. The thought of being that high up in the sky with nothing to keep you from falling to your inevitable death makes you shudder internally. You were so glad she hadn't picked that option because otherwise she would have been going on a date with herself.

"Sí," she nods, looking up at you. She see's the somewhat unsettled look on your face and reaches a her free hand out to rest on top of your own that was laying dormant on the table. "You do not like heights?"

You shake your head with a small grimace. "No, not really." You admit, watching the way her thumb idly strokes the skin on the top of your hand. Was such a simple action supposed to cause butterflies?

"It is a good job I did not choose it then." She acknowledges, and you hum in an agreement as you get back to painting, your free hand still linked with Alexia's.

"That would have been an incredible first date though," you say as an afterthought. "A hot air balloon ride. Can you imagine that?" You laugh, and Alexia nods her head with a quiet chuckle.

"Sí. I could." She agrees, dunking her paintbrush into the water to get rid of the orange paint before pulling it out, drying it off and dipping it into the white paint. "Mapi nearly per...persuade?" You nod. "Persuade me, but I get her to change her mind."

"Wait, you were actually considering a hot air balloon ride for a hot second?"

Alexia nods her head.

"That's crazy expensive Alexia." You laugh a little in disbelief, finishing with the black paint and starting with the white.

"That does not matter. I could take you on ten hot air balloon ride and it will not affect me." She shrugs a little carelessly, and you stare at her in incredulity.

"I have a good job, amor, do not worry." She attempts to sooth you, squeezing your hand that was still holding her own.

You roll your shoulders before nodding your head. A part of you wants to ask just what job she did, but you didn't want to come off as rude or nosey.

"Okay, I think I'm done." You admit, setting your paintbrush down and turn the ceramic penguin to face her. Alexia looks up, her lips quirking up into a satisfied smile.

"That is very good. Muy bien." She praises, and you bow playfully earning yourself soft laugh. You make a silent reminder to yourself to make her laugh again before the dates over, because you'd never heard a sound so perfect.

Alexia finishes off the foxes nose before setting her paintbrush down too, using the tip of her finger to nudge it around so it was facing you. You lean in close, smiling at all the little details she'd made sure to add.

"That's perfect." You praise, bravely leaning in and kissing her cheek. Alexia smiles a little bashfully as her eyes briefly flicker down to your lips before she clears her throat and stands up. "We need to wash our hands, sí?" She gestures over to the far corner of the room.

Despite the fact Alexia didn't have a single speck of paint on her, you nod your head and follow her over to sink anyway. You take turns in washing your hands, allowing Alexia to dry your own for you when she shyly requests to do so. She then places her hand on the small of your back as she guides you back over to the table.

A joint effort was made in cleaning up your workspace, you playfully poking Alexia in the side when she gently nudges you out of the way to pick up your paint water as well as her own. She simply sends you a cheeky smile, one you can't help but mimic as she disposes of the paint before making her way back over to you.

You were told you could pick up your 'masterpieces' in a week, Alexia noting it down on her phone so she didn't forget before paying, not giving you a single opportunity to fight her on the subject despite your futile attempts.

"Alexia-"

"No," she takes your hand and pulls you out of the building. "I ask you out, amor, so I pay, sí?"

"Well I'm paying next time. No ifs, ands, or buts about it." You state firmly, Alexia raising an eyebrow in amusement as she instinctively swings your hands back and forth.

"Next time?" She questions, debating with herself for a second before gently pulling you to a stop and backing you up against a wall down a small alley that would ultimately keep you both hidden should anyone walk by.

You allow this to happen, head tilting to the side as you stare up at her with a look of intrigue on your face.

"You think you can take me on one of the best dates I've ever been on and not expect a second one?" You question, eyebrow raised, and Alexia shakes her head playfully as she reaches up and tucks one of the loose strands of hair behind your ear.

"What if I said the date was not over?" Her hand lingers on the side of your face, the pad of her thumb trailing gently just beneath your eye.

You lean into her touch. "It's not?"

Alexia shakes her head, her eyes once again flickering down to your lips. They linger there for a lot longer than they did last time. "I have one more thing planned, after I..." she looks up to make eye contact once again.

"After you?" You murmur, hopeful.

Alexia visibly swallows as her hand lowers to cup your jaw. "I want to kiss you. Please.”

Your heart pounds at her admission. "Then do it."

Alexia brushes the pad of her thumb over your lower lip, taking in the softness. "Are you sure?"

Your lips parting in a soundless intake of breath. "Sí. Kiss me." You whisper, and Alexia leans down to tentatively connect her lip with your own. The warmth of her mouth immediately sends a current of energy throughout the entirety your body, your insides feeling as though they'd been set on fire.

Your legs instantly turn into jelly, and you can only thank the wall behind you for keeping you upright as you place your hands on the gentle curve of her waist in an effort at pulling her closer.

You could feel the soft tickle of her breath against the tip of your nose as she complies and places one of her legs between your own, her chest becoming flush with yours as her other hand rises to meet the other. Your arms loop around her waist, hands coming to rest against the small of her back.

Her lips were soft, bruising, devouring yours with such reckless abandon you can't help but want more. She was everywhere. Tongue teasing. Teeth nipping. Hands demanding. When she asks for entrance, you immediately grant it, unable to stop the soft groan from escaping your lips when you feel her tongue trace teasingly over the roof of your mouth.

You feel her smile at the sound, and you find it hard to be embarrassed when she continues kissing you like there was nowhere else she'd rather be. You couldn't quite pinpoint her taste, but it was so addictive and so Alexia it took everything in you lot to get lost or swept away.

The kiss ends much sooner than you wanted it too, Alexia pulling away, stealing two more kisses from your lips in the process. She doesn't go far, simply resting her forehead against your own, your rapid breaths mingling in the small space left between you.

"You're a really good kisser." Is all you could bring yourself to say as your eyes flutter closed, hearing her laugh softly in response as she gently brushes the backs of her fingers over your cheek. You can't help but lean into the touch.

"Gracias, amor," she whispers, tracing her thumbs against the soft skin beneath your eyes, a silent prompt for you to open them. Once you do, she leans down just slightly and presses her lips against your forehead.

"You are...asombrosa." She murmurs as she pulls away.

"I don't know what that means." You admit, still slightly breathless.

"You will soon." She promises.

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @liloandstitchstan @xxnaiaxx @marysfics

[purplesuitcowboy]

cw: dubious consent, fauxcest, double penetration, free use

"I don't have any cash on me," her step-father, Thomas, told the frazzled young man at the cash register.

"But, I have this,” he said. He jostled the young women who stood beside him for emphasis. Quinn offered up weak protest from behind the ball gang in her mouth. She hated when he did shit like this. Ever since he’d figured out that she’s dabbled in selling nudes online, how he was able to tell if was her when she hadn’t even shown her face was beyond her, he’d been strong arming her into all sorts of shit under the threat of disclosing her little business endeavor to her mother.

Her mother had always been a bit of a prude and if she found out, Quinn would be kicked out of the house for sure and her sizable inheritance would be reduced to 0. She was sure that she could find a place to stay if she got kicked out but losing out on her inheritance was simply not an option. She gone along with his demands which had started as head in the parking lot of his job and had quickly ballooned out of proportion from there.

As it turned out, Thomas was a bit of a kinky bastard but he couldn’t live out his fantasies with her mother so he used her instead. Quinn was almost positive that Thomas preferred it that way. Even before their little agreement, he’d always told her that she had a body built of sex and that she’d make a man very happy one day. This had been very, very weird then but she had ignored it. He made her mother so happy that Quinn had just written off his comments as personality quirks. They hadn’t been. They were the truest expressions of his wishes and desires.

In a sick way, she was perfect for him. She was just as much as a freak as she was, got just as turned on by their slinking around as he did. She just had the good sense to be ashamed and embarrassed by it. Quinn tried not to think about the fact that she was helping her step-father cheat on her mother. Surely, finding out that this had been happening behind her back was worse then Quinn selling her nudes online. Either way, she was a coward because she said nothing and continued fucking her mother’s husband.

Quinn was trapped between her step-father’s bulk and the edge of the counter. Already, she could feel the beginnings of his hard on against her ass. Thomas held her tightly, securing her arms behind her back. He pushed her towards the counter, forcing her to lean awkwardly over it. The precarious position highlighted her generous bust which was barely being contained by her the low neckline of her short dress. Her hardened nipples could be easily seen through the thin material. She briefly made eye contact with the cashier but quickly averted her gaze, deeply embarrassed by the situation. Despite her embarrassment and shame, she feel heat begin too bloom between her legs as she felt the cashiers eyes on her tits. She didn’t have to see his face to know that he liked what he saw. In her minds eye, she could already imagine these men sharing her body, fucking her holes and filling her with their cum. She shifted, rubbing her thighs together.

"Oh, I'm not sure I can..I don't, uh,..."

"Come on," he paused, squinting at the young man's name tag. "Gordon? Damn, what did your parents give you an old man name like that for? Anyway, you're gonna pass up a fuck with a pretty young thing like my stepdaughter here. You like girls don't you, son?"

The young man nodded, rendered completely speechless by the situation. He saw a lot of weird shit during his shifts at the convenience store -especially during the late shift- but this was really taking the cake. He thought that the pair were odd when they walked in but he hadn’t thought much of it until they’d gotten to the counter.

"Well then give 'em a feel,” the old man jeered. “You're gonna make her feel bad if you don't. You're gonna make her think somethings wrong with her tits. You don't want that do you."

Thomas pulled down the top of Quinn’s dress, freeing her tits from their confines. Roughly, he grabbed one of her breasts, massaging it with his hand. Quinn whimpered in response. With Thomas’s grip on her loosened, she freed one of her arms and used it to prop herself up on the counter. Hesitantly, the cashier reached forward to gently fondle one of Quinn’s tits.

“Come on, kid!” Thomas exclaimed. “Grab it like you mean it. None of that pussy shit now.”

The cashier nodded and with renewed vigor, grabbed Quinn’s breasts, kneading them with his hands. Her eyes fluttered shut and she seemed to push her tits out as if offering herself up to him. The edge of the counter dug into her hip but she barely noticed. Gordon could feel his dick harden against his thigh as he fondled her. Her skin was soft beneath his finger tips, and her nipples were red and rosy like the cherry on top of an ice cream sunday. Looking at them, at her, made his mouth water. Emboldened, he leaned forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking it and rolling it with his tongue. Quinn moaned, drool gathering on the ball gag and dripping down her chin to her chest. Thomas watched as the cashier lavished Quinn’s tits with attention. He slipped a hand between her thighs, fingers gently rubbing against her slick folds. He loved have easy access to her pussy so she rarely wore panties around him. Another whine escaped Quinn’s lips as she tried to rock her cunt against his fingers.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you baby. Your little pussy is so wet,” he told her, voice almost loving.

He plunged two fingers into her cunt, slowly pumping them in and out. His hand was quickly covered in her juices as he continued to fuck her with his fingers, first one and then two and three. Gordon paused his ministrations and cocked his head to the side, watching enrapt as the older man fingered Quinn’s cunt. His fingers were shiny with her juices as he pumped them in and out of her hole. With every attempt to pull out, Gordon could see the walls of her cunt tightly clenched around his fingers, seemingly unwilling to let them leave the hot, wet channel. If Gordon had any blood left in his body, it had all rushed to his cock. It throbbed painfully in his shorts begging for attention. He’d been hard for a while but it was becoming almost unbearable. He let go of Quinn’s tits and pushed her out of the way so he could hop the counter to join them on the other side. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Thomas stopped finger fucking Quinn’s pussy to watch the cashier volt over the counter to join them. He took a step back and, tugging at her hip with a wet hand, pulled her back to give the young man room to stand.

Eagerly, Quinn leaned towards the cashier. She braced herself on him, holding onto his hip with one hand. With her other hand, she pulled down the zip of his shorts and pulled out his harden cock. Her eyes widened as she admired its size and thickness. The cashier reached for the ball gag, pulling it out of her mouth. Her eyes locked onto his, she took his thumb into her mouth, running her hot tongue along the tip and sucking on it lightly.

“Fuck” the cashier said, breathless.

Dutifully, Quinn took his cock into her mouth. The cashier groaned, as his cock was enveloped by the wet, heat of Quinn’s mouth. She took him deep until the head of his cock tapped the back of her throat. Her eyes watered but she didn’t gag, instead, she breathed heavily out of her nose trying to steady her breathing.

“Atta girl,” Thomas told her. “Show him how well I’ve trained you. Fuck her throat, son. Don’t worry. She can take it.”

She seemed to gurgle something in the affirmative. He placed his hands on the top of her head and steadily began to fuck her throat. Thomas was right. Quinn forced herself to relax and use her. After a couple of thrust, she pulled her head away, gasping for breath, before she took his cock back in her mouth. As she serviced the cashiers cock, Thomas helped himself to her pussy. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Giving himself a few strokes, he lined himself up with her cunt. He rubbed his shaft against the lips of her pussy, coating himself in her juices, before he slowly began to push his thick cock into her waiting hole. It didn’t seem to matter how much he fucked her, her cunt felt as tight as it had the first time that he’d had her. He groaned as pushed inch after inch into her cunt until he was seated to the hilt. The two men quickly found a good rhythm using her body, one pulling out while the other pushed in and vise versa.

Adjusting her hold on Gordon, Quinn steadied herself on one hand so she could slip the other between her legs to rub at her tender clit. It didn’t take long before she was writhing and cumming on Thomas’s cock. As she came, her cunt tightened around his shaft and Thomas quickly found himself emptying his load into her cunt. Gordon came soon after. He tried to pull out of Quinn’s mouth to cum on her chest but she held him tight forcing him to cum into her mouth. He pulled out of her lips and she opened her mouth, showing him his load on her tongue before she swallowed.

“You’re not done are you?” she asked, looking up at the cashier with big doe eyes.

The cashier looked down at her, a look of awe on his face. Surely, she was a succubus or some other worldly being. He’d never met a woman with the sexual appetite this one seemed to. He worried that she would suck his soul out of his cock and that he would happily let her do it. Sharing her with her stepfather was a bit strange, but he’d cum so hard it hardly seemed to matter at that point as long as he got to fuck her again. Thomas laughed behind her and slapped her ass, earning him a squeak of surprised from Quinn.

“Horny slut.”

“Please?” she said to the cashier, ignoring her stepfather. “I want to have your cock in my pussy.”

“He can fuck your pussy but I want to fuck your ass while he does it.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay,” Gordon responded, eyes never leaving Quinn.

Thomas pulled out of Quinn’s cunt and unceremoniously picked her up off of her feet. The head of his cock teased her asshole. She reached down and helped to push his cock into her hole, toes curling as his cock filled her ass. Thomas held her with her back again his chest and his hands on her ass. Her legs were open showing off her cunt, still leaking Thomas’s cum, to Gordon’s gaze. Thinking with his lower head, Gordon stepped between her legs and pushed his cock into her waiting hole. Between her juices and Thomas’s left over cum, Gordon’s cock slid in easily.

“Oh my god,” Quinn said with a groan, closing her eyes and learning her head back on Thomas’s shoulder.

“So… fucking…tight,” Thomas said, reeling from the sensation of her ass clenched around him with the additional tightness added from Gordon’s cock in her cunt.

Thomas and Gordon scrambled to adjust their shared grip on her body. Thomas adjusted his grip on her ass and Gordon grabbed hold of her thighs. Working together, they worked to bounce Quinn on their cocks while also attempting to thrust into her holes. It was an awkward process but it felt so good that it didn’t even matter. Quinn had never felt so full in her life. She felt as if any moment she might just combust. It was painful and uncomfortable but so pleasurable.

She opened her eyes and lifting her head off of Thomas’s shoulder, leaned forward to capture Gordon’s mouth in a kiss. He swiped at her bottom lip with his tongue and she opened up her mouth, allowing him to intertwine his tongue with her’s. He was so wrapped up in kissing her that he stopped thrusting which made it much easier for Thomas to hammer his cock into her ass. With a free hand, Quinn reached down to rub her sensitive clit. She moaned against Gordon’s lips as she came. Her body went ridged in his arms as she rode out her orgasm. Greedy, she continued to furiously rub her clit, pushing herself to another orgasm.

“Fuck,” Thomas exclaimed as he felt her clench around him. “Fuck!”

Her asshole was so snug around him that he could hardly move but it was fine, the rhythmic clenching of her hole as she orgasmed guided him to his release. He stood there for a moment, reeling from the sensation. Finally, he braced himself and slowly pulled out of her ass. His cum leaked out of her hole in the absence of his cock but he used his thick fingers to fuck it back in.

Frank no longer right behind her. Gordon lowered her to her feet and turned her, bending her over the counter so he could finish himself off. Frank’s softening cock seemed to wake back up at the sight and he stroked it idly while he watched Gordon roughly pound her from behind until he came deep in her cunt. Gordon took a step back and the two men admired the sight of Quinn’s sloppy, cum covered holes.

“So, I’m good to take the cigarettes, right?”

[tarotwithavi]

A life lesson I want to share with you

When I was a child, I often felt neglected. Both my mother and father were busy with their jobs and lives, and it felt like they didn’t have time for me. I always wanted their attention and love, but I didn’t know how to ask for it. The only time I felt appreciated by them was when I did something they could be proud of. If I won a competition, got the highest grades, or acted like the perfect "golden child," then they noticed me.

Because of this, I started to believe that in order to be loved by my parents, I had to be the best at everything. I pushed myself harder and harder, trying to meet these high standards. I thought that if I was the smartest, the most successful, and the perfect child, my parents would love me more. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I had created these expectations for myself. My parents never demanded I be the best, and they never told me I had to be perfect. But I convinced myself that I needed to.

Over time, I started to feel more and more pressure. I was so focused on being the best that I never stopped to think about how it was affecting me. I was always worried about failing or not being good enough. The need for recognition and appreciation from my parents was slowly eating me up inside. I didn’t feel free to just be myself; instead, I felt like I always had to perform.

But one day, I had a realization. I began to understand that my parents had always loved me just as I was. They didn’t love me more when I got good grades or won awards. Their love for me was unconditional. I realized that my parents weren’t working hard because they didn’t care about me; they were working hard because they loved me. They were trying to give me the life they never had. They wanted to provide me with opportunities and luxuries that they had never experienced growing up.

This realization changed the way I saw things. I finally understood that I didn’t need to be perfect to earn their love. My parents were doing everything for me because they loved me from the start, not because of my achievements. It wasn’t about what I could do; it was about who I was, their child.

Looking back, I learned a big lesson from this experience. Sometimes, we put too much pressure on ourselves, thinking we need to be perfect or the best to be loved or appreciated. But the truth is, real love doesn’t come from our successes or achievements. It comes from who we are. And most importantly, the people who truly love us ,like our parents ,will always love us for who we are, not for what we do.

Now, I try to remind myself that I don’t need to prove my worth to anyone. I don’t need to keep pushing myself to the point of stress and exhaustion. I can just be me, and that is enough. My parents love me, not for my grades or awards, but because I am their child. And that is a lesson I hope everyone can learn: You are worthy of love just as you are. You don’t have to earn it; you just have to accept it.

[clawsdevour]

hq charas telling u hbd hcs

wc: 0.4k content warning: not proofread, all fluff headcanons!!

note: dedicated to my mutual, happy late birthday @laid-backcamp <3

❛ 。˳ ❀˚

-the type to chalantly spoil you rotten. They're walking around trying to seek you with presents occupying their field of vision. The moment they see you, they're running at you full force with gifts overbearing their hands while yelling out happy birthday.

"BABEE!!! HAPPPPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

charas: hinata shoyo, bokuto kotaro, nishinoya yu, oikawa tooru

─

-the type to start singing happy birthday to you loudly whenever they see you in an attempt to playfully taunt you while letting other people know it's your birthday because they want you to be treated like royalty on your special day. Of course at some point you just gotta walk up to them and slap your hand over their mouth.

"Hey hey, look it's the birthday girl!!! Happy birth-!"

charas: kuroo tetsuro, osamu miya, atsumu miya, lev haiba

─

-the type to make you small but memorable handmade items for your birthday. You're constantly at the back of their head, so what else would be perfect but a gift from the heart? They definitely worked on their little project days or maybe even weeks before your special day!

"Happy birthday love! Here's this gift I made you. It might not look like much but remember that I made you it out of love!!"

charas: daichi sawamura, akaashi keiji, kita shinsuke, tadashi yamaguchi

─

-the type to write you a little letter and give you money or lucky charm/keychain stashed in the envelope because they aren't sure what you'd like. Trust me, they do love you but they just don't know what to get you as a gift! They would believe that it'd be better off if they handed you money to get whatever you'd like or a little lucky charm/keychain.

"Happy birthday..! I didn't know exactly what to get you but I hope this could somehow make up for it."

charas: tsukishima kei, sakusa kiyoomi, kenma kozume, ushijima wakatoshi, kageyama tobio

─

-the type to make you a basket with a letter, snacks, a plushie, and things you've really wanted. In the letter, they written about why they got you a certain item, could just be because you talked about wanting it or if the item reminded them of you. They put so much thought into your birthday that they would forget about their own priorities.

"Happy birthday dear! This is for you, it's filled to the brim with your favorite sweet treats, and the stuffed animal you've had your eye on!"

charas: iwaizumi hajime, yaku morisuke, sugawara koshi

masterlist here

[uriekukistan]

thoughts on jjk 270, unfiltered for your reading pleasure

honestly the whole chapter feels like a disservice to megumi. i know i say that all the time, and maybe i'm just too jaded, maybe i'm wearing favorite character goggles idk, but as a whole i think this chapter was just. not good so if i wanna talk about it with regards to the Favorite Character, i will

my first thought seeing megumi at tsumiki's grave was that gege was gonna finally give a proper moment where he could grieve and reach some kind of closure, maybe get some of the overdue development he's earned. like to me there's nothing better than when the emotionally reserved character breaks down, and this would have been the perfect moment. i feel like so much of megumi's character has been built around his relationship to tsumiki, and the past 60 chapters-ish have been building up to this moment where megumi can properly grieve and maybe express some kind of remorse to tsumiki for being a bit of a brat when he was younger, but he never gets that. instead, we get this really stale and emotionless ending for their relationship, and for megumi's character as a whole. like idk, this whole time he's wanted to be able to apologize to tsumiki and make it up to her after everything she did for him, and he never even gets a moment to mourn. i hate that for him.

next. why am i getting more emotionally satisfying endings for side characters that i literally dgaf abt than for main characters like megumi, yuuta, gojo (i'll stand by the fact that i think he should have died, but like show people mourning him damn), nobara, YUUJI?????? idk like wtf is going on here. to me there is no reason to get a more satisfying ending for that middle school friend of yuuji's who was relevant for like two pages before i get a satisfying end for the literal deuteragonist of the story

then there's the whole thing w hana. i'm not even saything this from a shipping standpoint, but it's frustrating to me that megumi gets to reach some kind of peace w hana and have a good conversation with her before he talks to itadori, the person who's been by his side this whole time, the person who appreciates him for who he is and not their idealized version of him, the person who he decided to live for, the person who arguably means the most in his life right now. he doesn't get to exchange a serious heart to heart with him, but he gets to have a shallow surface level interaction with hana? idk i just feel like it reduces his character to something very superficial and i hate to see it.

and maybe i'm just dumb but i don't get like. any of these new plot points that have been introduced, but honestly, i don't care to understand. it seems like gege is in fact trying to set up a second part to jjk and im just so annoyed by that, because we get this rushed ending where nothing reaches proper fruition so he can introduce these new plots? like idk, somehow that pisses me off more than if he just fumbled the ending, but i hold that thought until we know for sure that he's making a second part.

this was supposed to be more general, but i got carried away w my thoughts abt how bad megumi's ending was fumbled. anyway. yeah canon doesn't exist to me past 268 :D

[the-curious-butterfly]

Today just feels like a day for firsts so this is for them.

Chloe was sitting on her bed doing schoolwork when Red came, more like barreled, in. She had thought to greet her roommate or say anything really, but all the words got caught in her throat as soon as she looked up and saw the look on her face. There was this intensity to her eyes that would have been frightening if it wasn’t for the fact she was also smiling. Though their eyes met for only a second before she beelined it towards Chloe. Taking the Charming completely by surprise as all she could get out was a “Red, what-“ and then she couldn’t speak anymore. Suddenly her lips were too busy with something soft and tender and…oh.

Funny, she originally thought of herself as more resistant to give in but the minute she felt those lips she was done for. Her body gave a quiet sigh as it went limp, the only thing holding her up was Red who had wrapped her arms around her the moment she sat upon the edge of the bed. Pulling her closer and closer to the point Chloe felt like she would break, but also that it wasn’t close enough.

Chloe has heard and read about first kisses. None of that had prepared her for this. Where first kisses are described as slow, soft, and sweet. Red is quick, intense, and yet still somehow so sweet. While her movements may seem erratic Chloe could tell she was being rather mindful, especially with her teeth. At one point Red even bit her bottom lip, though only enough to tease not to hurt. Her hands, which travel up and down her back now, feel more soothing rather than needing.

How is it possible that Red is kissing her senseless, yet reassuring her that she isn’t losing her senses all at the same time.

It’s so Red. So very very Red. Just like this first kiss.

This perfect first-

…Wait.

After what felt like a lifetime, but was really only moments, Chloe had found the strength to place her hands upon Red’s arms and slowly push her away. Breaking the intensity but not the kiss, not completely anyway. Red’s lips chased hers, though she wasn’t the only one to blame.

“Wait, wait.” Oh good, she hadn’t completely lost her voice. She had been worried about that for a minute. Before she could say anymore, however, Red took her breath away once more for a completely different reason. Something was being held before her that she swears wasn’t there a second ago, something circular that looks oddly enough like a-

“What, Red?!”

“No this isn’t me proposing, not yet at least, this is me saying I don’t mind the thought of marrying you either. Someday.”

All Chloe could do was stare at Red, because really what is she suppose to say to that? Was she suppose to reach out and take the ring? Which was silver and plain looking, but that’s not what mattered. Chloe wouldn’t have cared if it was plastic, what she cares about is the person offering it to her and saying they’re fine with her.

“I talked to Principal Uma and she helped me realize a few things. Number one being, Chloe, if I ever get to the point where I do marry you. It’ll be because I chose to, and how could I regret choosing the first person who believed I was more than what I seemed?”

Chloe stared at the ring then up into Red’s intense yet genuine gaze. “But…I also told you that you weren’t more than what you seemed when we met.”

The answer came after a spot of laughter. “I told you the same thing too, I called you a privileged little princess.”

“I am-was a privileged little princess.” Chloe could admit that now. Red on the other hand was never evil, not the way her mom is…or well was?

“You sure you’re not still are?” She raises a perfectly constructed brow as she teases Chloe. Prompting said girl to shove her off the bed, ring still in hand. “Hey, at least accept this first before you kick me off.”

“Nope, keep teasing me and I might never.”

Red feigns a rather audible gasp. “You wouldn’t!”

Chloe looks down at the pouting child before relenting with a sigh. “You’re right, I wouldn’t, I love you too much to do that.”

There it was, Chloe said it. It was the first time she told Red that she loved her. Six months after you start dating, even if you hadn’t had your first kiss yet, was enough time right? She sure hoped so, except Red isn’t responding nor can she read the expression on her face.

Oh fairy godmother, this was a mistake wasn’t it?

It was a mistake. It was a mistake.

“It was-“

She couldn’t even finish as a pair of lips had defended upon her once more. Though this kiss was a lot different from the first. It was much more like the ones she’s read and heard about. It’s so very soft, slow, and sweet. It’s fireworks and fairy song and everything she’s ever imagined. Red’s arms are sitting on her shoulders this time so Chloe places hers around the other girl’s waist. Something small falls onto one of the sheets of paper scattered around her bed, but she’s too focused on Red to care about what it is.

She takes this to mean a good thing, even if Red hadn’t said it back. The fact that she’s kissing Chloe like this must be a good sign.

That thought gets reinforced when Red pulls away to rest her forehead against Chloe’s. “I’m not very good at the whole feeling thing so I didn’t know how else to respond. Just, know that it wouldn’t feel enough to say that I like you.”

Chloe’s smile in response is so radiant she’s pretty sure she should have gotten the name Charming for that alone. Red herself could barely look at it, but she couldn’t look away either.

Except suddenly that radiant smile turned into an amused frown. “Did you say you went to Principal Uma for advice?”

“Yes…look, I had to go to someone and Maddox is a whole kingdom away.”

“So you went to the Principal? Shouldn’t that be something I would do?”

“What can I say, maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Or maybe you respect certain authority more than you like to let on.”

“Chloe Charming, you take that right back this instant.”

“Or else what?” At this point Chloe unconsciously starts rubbing Red’s back through the fabric of her riot jacket. Red’s response is to rub their noses together.

“Or else I’ll stop hanging out with you.”

“Hanging out? Is that what we’ve been doing?”

“Have we not, that’s what people do isn’t it?”

“Red, you really do need more friends.”

Red gently bites Chloe’s left ear causing Chloe to give out a soft yelp. “First of all, rude. Second, why would I need more friends when I have you?”

“That’s exactly what someone who needs more friends would say. Wait, don’t you dare bite the other one!”

Too late, she bit the other one too.

[loserlvrss]

𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐈 ( 최산 )

pairing : choi san x fem!reader genre : drabble, [ MDNI 18+ ] smut, established relationship warnings : unprotected sex, petnames, exibitionism, language word count : 0.9k authors note : the lipstick just felt right idk

a soft sigh left your boyfriend’s mouth, and you pressed another kiss to his shoulder—right above his collarbone. his hands gripped your bare thighs, possessive finger prints sure to be left when the deed was done. his head was thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing with every gulp.

your head leveled, admiring the stains your lipstick made against his sculpted upper body. he was beautiful, but san swore he’d never seen something more ethereal than you above him. he’d be happy dying right now, inside you. which was arguably his favorite place to be.

“fuck, baby.” you whimpered, clawing at his abdomen as you lifted and dropped your hips in a steady rhythm, “we’re shaking the car so much.” a breathy laugh cascaded from his open mouth. “leaving nothing to the imagination.”

“let them watch, then.” he smirked, your insides clenching just a bit harder at the sight—and thought. “i’m the one fucking you, aren’t i?”

you felt a sense of relief at the thought. yeah, he was. no one knew you better. ruined from the inside out by the most perfect man you’ve ever called yours.

but it was still midday, the sunshine glistening over both your skin. the windows were fogged up—clichely—the humidity making a drop of sweat roll down your sternum. san fought the urge to lean in and lick between your boobs, watching through hooded eyes.

“actually,” you braced yourself, speeding up just a little bit. a hearty moan left his throat, as you gulped your noises down. you pouted, “i’m doing all the work.”

“are you?” he asked, a sudden sense of competitiveness mixing with the lust in the air, “i know you can’t cum like this, angel.”

“fuck o—“ you rolled your eyes as his hands grabbed your ass, assisting your fleeting attempts to keep you both satisfied. “g-god.” he lifted you just enough to still be shoved deep inside you, thrusting up into the spot that kept your vision blurry.

your cherry-red nails wracked over the lipstick marks, smudging them. you were a mess, metaphorically and not, and it coated him in love. he’d never been graced with someone as beautiful as you. never someone so innocent looking, but so goddamn devilish. you had him wrapped around your fingers with the webs you spun, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

he would live and die with you, that was for certain.

you bit your lip, trying your best to be quiet—because after all, you were in a public park. yes, your windows were tinted, but by how much the car was moving, it wouldn’t be hard to plainly see what was happening on the leather seats.

his fingers gripped your jaw, leaving your lower half for a moment. then, his thumb ran over your bottom lip, dragging the color across them and to your cheek.

it was hot. everything was hot; the sun shining through the windows, the early september, your boyfriend's intoxicating gaze and ways. the way he felt inside you and as his hands roamed your skin. he was hot. borderline burning.

you were out of breath, using whatever was left in you to tell him how close you were to coming undone.

“yeah?” he asked, humming as he leaned up to capture your smudged lips in a kiss that somehow left you even more breathless. you panted against his mouth, and he smirked so devilishly well that your stomach twisted impossibly tighter. “i told you baby, we both know what you need.” he was right. he knew you so well. every little thing that got you going, and made you stop was his to read and memorize.

“s-san—oh my god.” you spewed out between moans (that you didn’t even care about anymore). “fuc-fuck, baby, please don’t stop.”

“i wasn’t planning on it, princess. this was just the warm up.” if you were half a mind you would’ve laughed, however you were on the brink of the most earth shattering orgasm you’ve ever felt brewing. and he knew that, only adding fuel to the fire. “go ahead and cum so we can get home, fuck this date, baby, i need you seven ways to sunday, right now.”

you came, hard, and then so did san, stilling you both as it got overwhelming. you pecked his skin to ground yourself, leaving behind traces of red that were barely noticeable now that your lipstick was everywhere but your lips. his chest rose and fell with an unsteady rhythm, keeping lodged inside of you—because that’s how you both liked it.

enough time went by that the windows were beginning to become see through again, and you huffed, the reality sinking in. his head leveled from being thrown back—just letting you nip at his skin—giving you a confused look.

you pushed off his chest, staring down at him. “it’s hot.” you admired your art, getting a little worked up at the thought of another person seeing the stains you’d left, “and you’re a mess.”

but, you wouldn’t let that happen.

“yeah, it is.” he used the back of his arm to swipe his lips, not really doing much to clean them. “and you’re not much better yourself, angel.”

but, somehow you’d gotten here, disregarding the small sandwiches you’d made earlier and the diet pepsi that was going flat as it warmed in the trunk; prepared (almost 30 minutes ago) for a cute picnic date with your man. but… you guess, you’ve never actually felt fuller now.

please reblog and like <3 comments are appreciated ! thank you 4 reading © loserlvrss 2024 all rights reserved. 

networks : @pirateeznet @illusionnet @blossomnet @starlit-network @k-films @kstrucknet

taglist : @mystarsohee | send an ask to be added. 

back to masterlist !

[prettygirl-gabi]

Partners-In-Crime

---

---

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: angst (like very substantial amount), fluff, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT), boyband

Relationships: !idol Mingyu x !idol f reader

Summary: In a whirlwind of fake dating to avoid breached contract lawsuit, Mingyu and Y/n navigate growing feelings, blurring lines between pretend and real.

Trope: Fake dating

---

Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the ninth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

I never really thought I’d find myself in this situation: fake dating one of the hottest idols in South Korea. Yet, here I am, sipping an iced caramel macchiato in a corner cafe, pretending that being next to Mingyu from SEVENTEEN is the most natural thing in the world. In reality, my heart is racing, and not in the good way.

“Y/N, could you, like, pretend to be happy?” Mingyu whispers through a tight smile, his voice barely audible over the ambient music and chatty customers. His dark eyes flicker with a mix of annoyance and desperation.

“I am happy,” I snap quietly, struggling to adjust the fake smile plastered on my face. “Well, as happy as I can be, considering I’m fake dating you.”

A little louder than intended, I notice a few heads turn our way. I can feel the pressure mounting. We’re supposed to be the doting couple everyone envies, yet the tension between us is thicker than the whipped cream on my drink.

His fingers drum impatiently on the table, the dull thud echoing my pounding heart. “This was your idea, remember? To throw off the media frenzy surrounding both of us.”

Sure, using the classic “fake dating” trope to divert media attention seemed brilliant in theory. We both had enough scandals and rumors hovering around us to last a lifetime. Pairing up would squash at least half of them.

Mingyu suddenly leans in, looking intently at the menu stuck between the salt and pepper shakers, but I know he isn’t paying attention to the array of overpriced sandwiches. “Y/N, if we don’t pull this off, Dispatch is going to have a field day. Again.”

I sigh, slumping back in my chair. “I know, I get it. But couldn’t we have found another way?”

He opens his mouth to argue but instead, a genuine laugh escapes his lips. “Like what? Publicly announce we’re focusing on our careers and ask for privacy?” The sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on me.

“Okay, fair point.” I roll my eyes but can’t help a small smile. “So what’s the plan now, Mr. Perfect?”

His grip tightens on the table edge before he looks up with a smirk. “We’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow morning for a ‘couple’ branding campaign. We just need to act like we’re head-over-heels for each other, got it?”

I groan inwardly. Nothing like forced intimacy to kickstart a beautiful, fake relationship. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Only if you make it one,” he teases, his smirk widening. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly. “Or maybe you’re just afraid you’ll actually fall for my irresistible charm?”

I snort. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

==

The next morning arrives faster than I’d like. The cosmetics studio is buzzing with activity. Staff members rush around, juggling makeup palettes and camera equipment, their energy palpable.

“Y/N! Mingyu! Over here!” the director waves us over to a pristine white set, where we’re expected to coo and swoon

“Showtime,” Mingyu whispers in my ear. His peppermint breath sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. This fake boyfriend thing is harder than it looks.

I force a smile, slipping my fingers through his as we pose for the cameras. Each flash feels like a dagger, reminding me this isn’t real. But for the sake of our careers, we plaster on the affection.

“Y/N, could you look at Mingyu like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” the photographer instructs, eyes focused behind the lens.

Like he’s the best thing that ever happened to me? Easy. I turn, my gaze softening as if on cue. As much as Mingyu frustrates me, he’s also been my confidant and partner-in-crime through this chaotic idol life. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

Mingyu meets my eyes, his expression unexpectedly tender. The lines of his face soften, making the acting feel less like an act.

We’re mid-pose when Mingyu decides to speak. “You know, you’re not as bad at this as I thought you’d be,” he says, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

I raise an eyebrow, still maintaining my “loving” gaze for the photographer. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that maybe we should fake date more often. You’re adorable when you’re pretending.”

I falter, the smile slipping slightly. “Watch it, Mingyu.”

==

The hours pass and the shoot finally wraps. We receive a round of applause for our “chemistry,” and Mingyu pulls me into a side hug, his hand resting on my shoulder. Pretending becomes so much easier with each click of the camera.

“Good job today,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with genuine warmth.

For a moment, I almost forget we’re pretending. Almost.

“We pulled it off, didn’t we?” I muse, pressing my temple against his arm briefly before pulling away.

“Yeah,” he admits, his eyes locking onto mine. “We make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

Something in his gaze makes my heart stutter. It feels like he’s trying to say more, like he’s testing unfamiliar waters.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it. This is still a temporary arrangement.” I remind myself more than him, with a fleeting half-smile.

==

Weeks roll by, and the line between fiction and reality starts to blur. Mingyu and I are inseparable, seen at award shows, interviews, seen leaving our "shared" house, and even the occasional late-night ramen shop. The media loves us. Fans dub us “the power couple of the decade.”

One evening, as we rehearse a choreographed routine for an upcoming awards show performance, the tension boils over. Mingyu’s patience breaks first.

“Y/N, you’re a step behind!” he snaps, frustration evident as he stops mid-spin. “We’ve done this a thousand times, what’s going on with you?”

Anger flares in my chest. “I’m sorry if I'm not perfect like you, okay?”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not about being perfect, it’s about working together!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” I shout back, breathless. “This whole thing...it's draining, Mingyu. Maybe fake dating wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” he challenges, stepping closer. “Maybe we should just end it? Announce it was all a prank?”

The space between us crackles with unspoken words, and I take a small step back, my chest heaving. “Maybe.”

His eyes search mine, the anger simmering into something else entirely—something raw and real. “And what if I don’t want it to end?”

Time stands still as his words hang in the air. The intensity in his gaze makes my heart race for an entirely different reason.

“What exactly are you saying?” I finally ask, needing clarity even if it feels terrifying.

He takes a deep breath, before lifting my head with his thumb on my chin and two under. “I’m saying...I don’t think this was ever just fake for me. And I don’t want it to be.”

My breath catches. Neither of us moves. The air feels charged and heavy with possibility.

“Me neither,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper, finally understanding the depth of my feelings.

A slow, almost relieved smile spreads across his face, and he reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together much like the first time we “acted” in love. Only now, it feels unforced, genuine.

The journey to real from fake has been messy, fraught with disagreements and tension, but standing here, looking into his eyes, I realize it was worth every moment.

“Looks like we’ve got a new script to follow,” Mingyu murmurs, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

I smile, leaning into the comforting warmth of his presence. “Yeah, and this time, we don’t have to pretend.”

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‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[itsdrawingmen]

We need to talk about Zen.

Every character in Mystic Messenger is a tragic one, and the Casual Story trio is often disregarded in that respect. But there is one character for whom I’ve hardly seen it explored at all. Maybe it’s because his route sucks such major ass, or because he’s honestly a bit of an asshole, misogynistic, homophobic, and ableist; or maybe it’s because his trauma is only briefly, fleetingly mentioned, as he and his friends refer to it, and then quickly brush it aside.

Zen Ryu, beautiful, stupid, and self-absorbed, is, on the surface, a perfect comic relief character, a beloved himbo, brash but well-intentioned. And I think this wonderful actor has been playing that role so well that he has fooled everyone, including the fandom.

Some character exploration and the uncropped art under the cut.

It’s no secret that Zen’s selfishness is nothing but a coping mechanism, masking a deep-set fear of inadequacy and paralysing self-doubt. It’s stated explicitly by Ray in Another Story, and it’s pretty evident from the way Zen is quick to worry there’s nothing more to him than his looks.

It’s obvious where he got it, considering how his mother treated him and his passions, and how his brother turned his back on him when he needed him the most. But there are more things I haven’t seen discussed anywhere, and I have a lot of thoughts and headcanons, and simply questions, so let’s start from the very beginning.

It’s made very clear in Zen’s route that his early life was… well, horrible. As early as kindergarten, he started getting singled out for his looks. Strangers kept staring at him and wanting to touch him, which bothered his mother.

Instead of getting on their child’s side, little Hyun’s parents tried to convince him he was ugly, to ‘humble’ him. It’s said that they just wanted him to be successful and to have a stable, secure life. Well, good intentions pave the road to hell, as it’s said. What they got as a result was a child who was harassed and stalked at school and in the streets with no one to confide in but his brother, who didn’t explicitly dismiss it, but still made light of it.

A little interesting point:

Make a note here of the ‘protection’ line, because I will get back to it later.

Anyway, whatever small support and understanding little Hyun’s brother provided him with, it wasn’t meant to last. Zen states that their parents treated them so differently they effectively separated them.

When he entered middle school and found passion for music, what his mother saw was her son turning to a precarious road and basically undermining his future. When she tried to convince him his dreams were stupid, Hyun’s brother took her side, leaving Hyun without the last person in his family who supported him. So little Hyun ran away from home, and thus began the story of Zen.

And here is where things get interesting. Zen left home when he was in middle school. A middle schooler in South Korea is anywhere between 12 and 15 years old. And a person living on their own must eat something and sleep somewhere. But here’s the catch: you can only rent if you are at least 19 (I’m assuming, Korean-19, so 18), and you can technically work part-time jobs starting at 13, but you need parental permission for that. And for any full-time job you must be 18. And this is the first big question with no easy answer: how did little Hyun survive after he left home? Where did he live, and what did he eat?

We can assume that for a while, he stayed with his friends, whom he for some reason tried to hide from his parents.

However, it would have been problematic for him to make it a long-term arrangement. If his friends were teenagers like him, their parents would be likely to tell his family where he was so that they would come collect their son. And if the friends were older and employed, it’s doubtful they would be well off enough to host a dependent long-term, unless there was something sinister going on. So the question remains: where did he live and what did he eat?

He mentions part-time jobs and extortion as sources of income, he worked night shifts to make ends meet, and there are also the mysterious 'bad things' that we will get back to later. But there are more variables here than just money.

Well, as far as I can tell, the answer to that is right here:

And now, I want you to stop for a moment and think about what this implies.

A child in his early teens (I like to assume 13-14), and a very pretty child at that, with a history of harassment that was never addressed, let alone stopped, finds himself on the street (at this point, we can presume: homeless and hungry). And he catches the eye of gangsters. Perhaps it’s my fresh experience watching ‘Banana Fish’ speaking (definitely not, I've had this conviction basically since I saw 'bad things' mentioned), but I want to really ask you: what do you think gangsters are likely to do with a beautiful and vulnerable young boy, besides use him for petty crimes Zen admits on the screens above? What 'bad things' could he have been forced to do to survive?

This admission by Zen himself doesn’t help my train of thoughts at all:

Of course, this is said in the context of exploitation at work, but given the gangs and the ‘bad things’, one can’t help but draw a connection.

Besides, this is where that screen I told you to take note of comes into play. Zen says that after middle school, he understood what his parents were trying to protect him from, essentially what dangers being pretty entailed. It couldn’t have been the usual harassment that he had been facing since kindergarten, he would have understood that by then. Another interesting point is that for someone with a gangster past, Zen is suspiciously gender nonconforming in his looks, and mellow in general demeanour. Yes, he’s rough around the edges, he’s homophobic, misogynistic, and foul-mouthed, but he isn’t really violent. Someone who used to fit in with gangs, especially as a youth, I would think, looks and acts differently. And this all takes me to a very grim conclusion: I firmly don’t believe that a good-looking and vulnerable child with no support network and with a history of harassment survived in gangs without being molested or sexually exploited once.

But let’s not delve into my headcanons and continue with the facts we have. These bits and pieces that come together to form a picture of Zen’s teenage years already paint a pretty morbid picture. But he made it big, became an actor, and left it all behind, and he’s happy in the canon timeline, right? Right?!

Wrong.

The most obvious thing is the contents of Zen’s fridge, which Jaehee points out when she goes to see him.

It’s referenced many times in the game, Zen lightheartedly says he often skips meals and in general eats pretty badly, and I think even V refers to it. And it’s easy to chalk it up to his insane diets and the expectations of his body and looks that he has to maintain to stay in the industry. Or, if you are a little like me and like to assume the worst, you can also attribute it to Zen’s borderline self-harming workaholism. But I think there’s a little bit more to it, and the key to it is actually where Zen lives.

I remember being a little confused as to why everyone was surprised that Zen lived in a semi-basement.

But I didn’t give it much thought, after all, semi-basements seem to be cheaper here as well, and Zen’s flat looked pretty nice on CGs (if extremely beige). And it wasn’t until recently when I was talking to a colleague about his friend sharing her experience in Korea that I learned that semi-basements were actually a signature dwelling of the poorest, and seemingly a clearly understandable trope for a Korean. Those semi-basement apartments are often at risk of flooding, which is apparently a well-known fact, and also why they’re supposed to be banned as residential quarters. And, of course, Zen is quick to tell everyone he likes that place with poor ventilation and little sunlight, because it’s Zen, after all. He has that working class mentality because he’s cool, and he likes underground apartments and old tech.

But it seems that the picture of his present life is also pretty grim. Now, I’m not in South Korea, and I know little about how theatre actors are paid there, but I can tell you what I know from several actor/actress friends here in Ukraine: theatre actors aren’t, unfortunately, paid shit. Even the ones you recognise and talk about, working in cool popular theatres, drop over half of their salary to rent a shitty apartment, and are left wondering what they’re going to eat. So it seems pretty likely to me that Zen’s empty fridge, old computer and mp3 player, daily subway commute, and semi-basement apartment all point to one simple fact: he’s simply poor.

And to make it worse, he seems to be extremely lonely.

I’m pretty sure he also mentions isolating himself when he’s feeling bad, but I can’t seem to find screenshots for that anywhere.

All that said, when the fandom looks at Zen, they see a self-absorbed himbo, the ‘don’t kill yourself you so sexy aha’ type of guy. And he is, and I think he’s hilarious, and I’m the first one to laugh at him tbh. But when I look at him for a little longer than a second, I see a young man who has been harassed to hell and back starting as early as kindergarten, who never graduated from school, who ran away from home in his early teens, worked multiple jobs, and still had to resort to crime to make ends meet. I see a young man who was once a vulnerable teen at the mercy of gangsters, who had to learn that all help comes with strings attached. And I see a young man struggling silently with poverty while maintaining a facade of a glamorous and charming actor.

And I think the charming actor has fooled everyone.

[baldurs-writers-3]

Wyll Ravengard: A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfic Rec List

This week, we have Wyll Focused fics! Check under the cut for ten incredible fics all about our favorite folk hero, Wyll Ravengard. And as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

Blood-seeking Blade by specimenbag (24809, Teen) Content Notes: Canon-Typical Violence Pairings: Astarion/Wyll

The end of the world must be nigh, Wyll thought, if Wyll of the Griffins spares a monster and lets him be a bloody traveling companion. Or, the series where Wyll is a Witcher, and Astarion is the vampire he saved

Reccer says: I love literally everything about this AU. The author includes helpful notes to explain witcher terminology so its very accessible. The vibes are immaculate and the characterizations are so well done.

Nothing Like the Sun by odessacastle (159772, Mature) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion/Wyll

Wyll and Astarion meet before his exile! Fate wants things to proceed down a similar path, however.

Reccer says: It's neat to see two canon companions have the 'oh shit we knew each other before this tadpole bullshit!!' that you normally just see more OC focused, it makes for very different starting interactions. Also man Wyll is bad at vampire spotting.

the blade falls by PurpleCatGhost (4097, Teen) Content Notes: None Pairings: Wyll & Friends

Wyll used to know his own limits fairly well, but that was before the tadpole. Besides that, having friends you can rely on is also a new experience, though at least this one is a nice one

Reccer says: I really enjoy Wyll realizing just a little bit too late that his injuries are worse than he thought, and then everyone's response to that being "How dare you not tell us you needed help >:("

Bouquet of the Frontiers by Tavylia_Sin (5796, General) Content Notes: Pairings: Wyll & Friends

Wyll tries to spend the tiefling party off on his own. His friends decide they would much rather adorn him in flowers and affirmations instead.

Reccer says: Very sweet. The found family vibes are impeccable

Hells Escape Pact by ushauz (17613, Teen) Content Notes: None Pairings: Karlach/Wyll, Astarion/Wyll, Astarion/Karlach, Astarion/Karlach/Wyll

A bit of a 'bad end' for three of the companions. Wyll is a proper demon type in Hell, Karlach never got out, and Astarion got sacrificed in the ritual. What now?

Reccer says: Bad end doesn't have to be bad forever!

Window to the Soul by normal_thoughts_official (653, Mature) Content Notes: depersonalization Pairings:

little snippets from wyll's childhood, through his time as the blade and how he sees himself as a person (and not)

Reccer says: for a short story it packs a damn punch, left me emotional

Saviour Complex by fantailsock (12246, Mature) Content Notes: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Pairings: Wyll and Friends, minor Astarion/Wyll

Five times someone helped Wyll out and one time he helped himself.

Reccer says: I'm always a sucker for found family and the team forcing someone to learn how to value themselves, and this fic is perfect for that

Less Than Ideal by jeejaschocolate (5021, General) Content Notes: some internalized ableism and drinking to cope Pairings: Astarion/Wyll

Being burned by hellfire left Wyll with poor eyesight in his solitary eye. Astarion notices. Of course, he can’t keep his opinions to himself.

Reccer says: Lovely exploration of vulnerability

a story better than the real thing by not_whelmed_yet (1100, General) Content Notes: N/A Pairings: N/A

Wyll is alone in the woods, in the wilderness, and the heroes of his youth spoke only of victory so maybe he can convince himself of it, too.

Reccer says: a wonderful character study of Wyll as the Blade of Frontiers - creating a storybook persona so he can try and distract himself from the miserable realities of his current situation. very sad. very fascinating.

And then we have three recs for the following: Allemande by adrezarach (7255, Explicit) Content Notes: None Pairings: Wyll/Tav, Wyll & Ulder Ravengard

Wyll is developing a crush on Tav and comes to realize that they’ve met before, when they were amongst the nobility of Baldur’s Gate! An introspective character study of Wyll, touching on how his life intersects with Tav’s over the course of nine years. He dances, he dreams, and he thinks about the storybook hero he wants to be.

Reccer #1 says: I really enjoyed this read and the author has a Wyll voice that feels very distinctive and true to character. Reccer #2 says: The author has a distinctive and poignant Wyll-voice, and the contrast between the timeframes of the fic is really interesting. Reccer #3 says: The author has such a strong grasp of Wyll’s character and a distinctive narrative voice that suits him really well. I love how they played with past and present so that the reader can see his changing thoughts over his life pre and post pact. It’s a strong piece as a stand-alone, but it’s clear the author has long term plans for this characterization and this dynamic. One of my favorite wyll-centric wylltav pieces.

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ!

Next week, we’ll be back with the evergreen trope, Misunderstandings!

[ch-4-eri]

Hi, I hope you had a good day

Can you write DI Jill x reader smut (age gap plz) that would contain SCISSORING (I'm tired of strapons I love pussies)

(Death island Jill is my favorite if she wont be in my bed on 14th February im gonna quit it)

Love your work!

I LOVE THIS REQUEST THANK YOU SOO MUCH!!

Jill X fem! Reader.

Warnings: mentions of trauma, slight angst, sad Jill, post death island Jill, scissoring, cursing. Smut, porn with plot, vanilla sex lowkey, Jill is much much older and reader is of legal age.

Word count: 1.7k

Guys I can fix her, I swear.

Your mom’s best friend had an almost near death experience at her job, which is almost every mission.

Jill Valentine has been your mom’s best friend for at least a good decade now, they both met at a support group and the friendship took off, surely a trauma bond lasts a lifetime.

As you both picked up the woman from the airport as she decided to unwind and forget about the horrible island she was talking about, in so little detail— knowing Jill for that long, she’s a woman of mystery, doesn’t say much but does say enough for you to grasp the full picture that lacks detail.

You were in the backseat as your mom drove— Jill staring outside the window with her beat up clothes, you’ve no idea if she liked ripped clothes or she’s just too busy to buy new clothes— either way, she was perfect, she smells nice and takes good care of herself, her almost greying hair perfectly trimmed and tucked behind her ear, she cuts her hair like a mother— not that she has kids, or even wants any.. which is fair.

Your eyes were taking in every detail about her, the way she was sitting, her hands calloused and placed atop her thighs as your mother was making conversation, dragging words out of her… barely so.

She turned to look at your mother which caused you to catch a glimpse at her nose, her blue eyes shining as the aging lines around her eyes were more prominent than last time you’ve seen, and before her visit to that island.

Jill felt eyes on her as she caught you staring, turning those to the backseat, giving you a half assed smile adults give to children and looking away, surely you’re no kid— but to Jill? It kind of doesn’t matter.

Deep down you’d take any kind of attention from her.

You always kicked yourself for thinking of that woman that way, Jill seems like the untouchable kind of woman— anyone’s lucky to even talk to her. you’ve no idea why she gives off that sort of energy… maybe because your mother is her only persistent friend outside of her job ones, and even so she barely talks, you’re curious, you wanna know more, and it grows to an attraction or even an obsession on your behalf.

Each time your mother brings her up, you’re tense, the hair on the back of your neck stands and your heart races, not even in fear, Jill was never threatening around you or your mother despite the training and whatever she’s capable of, and you know exactly what she can get away with.

But she’s a good person, and a good friend, and your mother loves her… so do you, except it’s a different kind of love, or maybe lust, a mere curiosity about the woman with decent intentions and morals, seeing it in her eyes as your mother insults a bad driver on the road and Jill just shushes her, she’s perfect, looks innocent even.

And you know she’s not, not even close.

You tossed and turned next to your mother in bed that night as you gave your room to Jill so she can rest on a bed instead of sleeping on the floor or the couch like she usually argues to do so.

And the thought of her sleeping on your bed is driving you crazy, your bed will smell like her, have her fucking perfect face on your pillows.

The overwhelming feeling made you sit up, not even in the mood to sleep at this point as your mind circled around the same thing, you wanted her.

To talk? Let her open up to you? Oh god she’s asleep on your bed.

And it’s like your legs had a mind of their own, you slowly got out of your mom’s bedroom, and closed the door— letting out a breath so heavy you felt your lungs shake.

Your room was right there, the door closed as Jill was right behind it, on your damned bed.

Your shaky hand was placed on the doorknob as you twisted the handle, allowing yourself to be creepy just this once as the desperation was eating you alive, making you feel smaller.

What if she gets mad? You never saw Jill angry, she’s incapable of being disrespectful like that, she’s too perfect, no matter how much she argues she isn’t.

You saw her awake and staring up at the ceiling, her gaze falling on you, and again; Jill would never be angry with you.

“Hi, sorry.. I just wanted something.” You lied, closing the door behind you.

“No worries.” Jill spoke up, the sound of her voice sending chills down your spine, you needed a fucking grip. “You alright?” You ask, not caring about the act of needing something from your bedroom at this point, what you wanted was her, to talk— to fuck— god anything.

“Just thinking.” Jill responds after a moment of silence, knowing she’s trying not to open up like usual, maintaining her secrets but still keeping a firm honesty— no matter how much it lacked, but you were so done with that, you wanted her to talk, say more, cry it out, anything.

You sat on the edge of the bed and faced her and she looked even more beautiful like this, wearing a gray tank top that barely covers anything, your eyes trying their hardest not to slip up, keeping them on hers instead.

“You can talk to me, you know?” You start, maybe just maybe this would get her to talk, it’s late and Jill looked vulnerable, worn out even. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Goddamn it, it was too close.

“Why not?” You found yourself arguing, were you that desperate? Perhaps, you absolutely were. Jill raised an eyebrow at your persistence, straightening back as she tilted her head. “Because, I don’t want to.” Jill replied, her tone firm like she needs you to stop arguing back if that’s what you were trying to do.

You gulped, you wanted to argue, wanted to tell her off, wanted to let her know she’s got you, that you were right here; anything.

“You should go to bed.” Jill ordered, her tone as firm as a moment ago, making you narrow your eyes in challenge.

“I don’t wanna go to bed, I know you wanna talk and I’m not leaving until you do.” You said, not sure what the hell’s gotten into you, and now Jill was starting to look pissed, a sight you haven’t seen before, maybe part of you was relieved you provoked her, maybe she’d say something, do anything.

She doesn’t say anything for now, you know she’s thinking something over in that head of hers, wishing you had a clue what the fuck it was. “Come here.” Jill gestured at you to come closer. Her fingers pointing at the bed, opening the blanket, her long legs exposed to your hungry eyes as you gulped.

“I said come here.” Jill repeats, her voice louder now, like she’s holding back yelling at you in the middle of the night. You obliged, unsure how you did so— all you could think about were her legs.

You came closer to her, crawling on the bed in front of her, watching the way her eyes studied you, her lips parted with anticipation as she grabbed your waist and brought you closer forcefully, feeling how strong her grip was, making you bite on your lip.

“Why are you suddenly so curious about it?” Jill asked, her fingers splaying themselves on your hip, keeping you close in such a strong grip and that’s just one hand.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Jill whispered, her other hand coming up to part your knees for her, gripping your thigh as she picked you up and brought you into her lap, like you weigh nothing. “That I’m so fucking tired; I’m so fucking sick of everything?” She whispered into your ear, her tone strained like she’s holding back the tears and the despair she’s felt for so so long.

“What do you want to hear?” Jill asked, her voice choked with tears. She wanted to cry but she refused to, her leg moving around your hip. Bringing you closer, her mouth placed near your neck. “I want you talk to me about it, maybe I could help—“

“You can’t help me doll.” Jill whispered, her breathing fanning your neck, her hands placed on your waist. “Nobody could.” She adds, positioning your middle on top of hers. Her hips slowly moving against yours, desperate for any kind of friction. “Jill—“ you gasped, catching a hold of her shoulders as you were both bumping against each other.

“Please doll just let me do this.” Jill begged, her hands gripping your hips hard as her clothed pussy was sliding up into yours, the fabric so wet as it bumped against her clit and made her bite into her lip, trying not to scream at the pent up feelings and frustrations, your eyes were glued to pussy, you wanted a taste, to feel her throb in your mouth, your pussy cumming at the friction as Jill moaned, her hands moving your hips with her full strength with both your panties soaked, Jill’s fingers moved in between you two and rubbed at both your clits, her breathing strained as she lifts her fingers up and shoves them into your mouth.

Seeking pleasure from the way you suck on her fingers, her other hand bringing your lower back closer as she chased her high, you had no idea your legs could do that, it was not a common position but it felt fucking amazing with your mouth full of Jill’s fingers and her pretty pussy fucking into your own, “come on— cum inside of me baby.” She urged, bringing your hip closer, pushing your pussy into hers. “Need you to cum inside of me.” Jill pants, too focused on her pretty eyes, mesmerised by her entire being, your noises were soft whimpers and whines as she got wetter at the sound of them.

“Jill—“ you called her name, your muscles spasming as you let out a choked gasp, your cum mixing with Jill’s as you both orgasmed at the same time, your foreheads pressed together and you both panted at the feeling, holding Jill’s shoulders while hers held your hips.

“I better not hear you ask anything else about me,” Jill requests, lifting your hips to get you off of her.

“You know enough doll, now trust me and get some sleep.” She says, slipping out of bed to get you cleaned up before you’d sleep. Leaving you dumbfounded and flustered.