pathologicalreid · 3 days ago
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little duck | s.r.
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in which Spencer is too excited about his first Halloween as a dad to remember he's supposed to be celebrating his birthday
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: jareau!reader, birthday party, halloween, dias des los muertos, roslyn talk, this IS my ffofa family but you don't need to read it to read this (just know that reader and jj have beef), mostly wholesome content, babies and having babies, the spencer reid dilf agenda! word count: 1.53k a/n: is this any good? not sure. it's definitely cute though.
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Your eyes flickered around the kitchen, trying to spot a familiar mess of brown curls that you’d lost track of about an hour ago. “Hey,” You said to Penelope, putting an arm around her shoulders, “Have you seen my husband anywhere?”
The blonde shook her head, taking the opportunity to glance around the house to see if he was hiding in plain sight, “Haven’t seen him,” she shared a look with Emily, who shrugged, “Did you check outside?”
Shaking your head, you sighed while picking up some trash from the counter and setting it in the trash. “No, thanks though,” you flashed them a small smile before continuing your way around the house, he wasn’t in the office or the library either.
The house was decorated in a hybrid celebration of Spencer’s birthday and Halloween. Décor for the latter had started going up in September, but the fake spider that Spencer put in the guest bathroom still made your heart race. Balloons fluttered in the air while you strode past them, “Hey, there’s the lady of the house,” your head snapped up.
“Hi Dave,” you greeted Rossi with a hug, “How are you enjoying the party?”
He lifted his glass of punch up, “Other than the fact that I’m not sure how you got the punch to turn green, it’s a beautiful party. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Thanking him, you promised to come back and chat once you found Spencer, who was still missing. As for the punch, you were under strict orders not to tell anyone how the punch had turned green, but you knew that Spencer had used spinach as a natural food dye. Personally, you were avoiding the liquid like the plague.
Finally checking outside, the only thing you found was Matt’s older four chasing each other with glow sticks while their father watched on. Kristy was inside with Rosemary, who wasn’t quite old enough to chase her older siblings yet. You smiled at the thought that maybe next year she’d be able to join the big kids.
Henry and Michael were on the playset, the older of the two trying to impress his younger brother by crossing the monkey bars. You waved at Michael on the swing before closing the door behind you, turning around to continue your search in the house, jumping when you found someone behind you. “Oh,” you hung your head in shock, “You scared me.”
Your sister smiled at you, “Sorry, I saw you looked like you were searching for something, I wanted to see if you needed anything.”
JJ made your chest ache. Every time she offered to do something for you or surprised you with a gift, she continued to get into your good graces, but it just reminded you of your broken bond. Shaking your head, you looked around the living room, “I’m just looking for Spencer.”
Recognition flickered in her eyes, “He went upstairs with Amelia about ten minutes ago. I didn’t see him come down.”
You sighed in relief once you knew where your husband and baby were, “Thank you.” Making your way to the stairs, you turned and spoke up again, “And J, take some leftovers home! I really don’t need all of it.”
Hopefully, you could convince everyone to take at least something home. Throwing parties was a curse, there was always too much food. You made your way upstairs, checking the master bedroom before peeking your head into the nursery, finally finding Spencer.
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Mila propped up in front of him, still learning how to stand unassisted. You leaned against the door frame, watching Spencer adjust her Halloween costume as she stared at him in wonder.
It was a tradition in your family for your mom to make the costume for Halloween, at least the first one, and Spencer was more than willing to adopt any tradition available to him, especially if it involved Halloween. You gave your mom free rein of the costume idea, so you shouldn’t have been surprised when she showed up before the party today with a baby duck costume in tow.
She was blowing raspberries at him while he brushed some feathers out of her face, “We’ll have to trim some of those, honey,” he spoke to her gently. He had refrained from putting the hood over her head, either because he didn’t want to ruin the tiny ponytail she had sticking up from her head or because he didn’t want her to get too warm, but she seemed more than content to be dressed in the bright yellow outfit.
You were thankful that she’d be comfortable in the costume because the rest of the week would be jam-packed. Tomorrow night was the FBI trunk or treat, then a Halloween party at Rossi’s, then actual Halloween, and then a Dia De Los Muertos party at Penelope’s to round off the week.
Honestly, you weren’t sure who was going to be more exhausted by the end of the week, you or Mila.
Eventually, you caught the gaze of your eight-month-old, who reached out and made grabby hands at you, exposing your location to Spencer, who turned his head to look at you, “Hey,” he said, still holding her upright even though his eyes weren’t on her.
“Hi,” you greeted back, unable to take your eyes off of the baby. More specifically, you were unable to take your eyes off of her costume.
You took a seat on the floor across from Spencer, who helped Mila off of her feet so that she could crawl to you, “Go see mama,” he urged her gently, watching as her tiny arms and legs carried her across the floor.
Once she reached you, she pushed herself up on your leg until you scooped her up, settling her in your lap and raising your eyebrows at him, “You know there’s a party going on downstairs.”
“I had noticed that, yes,” he answered, neatly folding the hood of Amelia’s costume and setting it in a pile.
Adjusting the bow on top of her head, you craned your head down and kissed the side of her head—she gurgled in response. “Did you know that they’re all here for you?”
Spencer smiled slightly, “I knew that too.”
Mila continued to babble while you looked at your husband curiously, “And yet,” you started, “You’re up here, putting her Halloween costume on while you should be at your birthday party.”
“I just wanted to see her in it,” he confessed, eyes flickering down at his daughter in her baby duck costume.
You had to admit, she was heart-achingly cute in the handmade costume. You were so happy when your mom brought up making the costume, not wanting to ask right out for it.
From the day she was born, Amelia was surrounded by family, you and Spencer made sure of it. She was cuddled up in the hospital with a blanket that Penelope crocheted. Even her nickname—Mila—had been granted to her by Derek’s daughter, who couldn’t quite swing the three-syllable name at the time.
There was a pit in your chest that was brought upon you by the symbolism of the costume, you often wondered what life would be like if your eldest sister was still around. You wondered what she’d think of your baby’s middle name—Rose—and if she’d think it was cool. “Hey, Spence?” You whispered, carefully standing up with Amelia in tow.
“Yes, my love?” He responded, following your lead and getting up off the floor, taking the baby from you, and changing her into pajamas.
You hummed behind him, taking the discarded costume and folding it up, placing it on top of the dresser until you needed it tomorrow. “Happy birthday,” you told him for the nth time today.
He smiled at you, resting Mila on his hip before he turned back to you, “Thank you.” Spencer leaned over and kissed you, the action receiving a coo from your daughter.
Laughing softly, you cupped her head tenderly, “It was a pretty good year, huh?”
Spencer pulled you into his side, you being held in one arm, and Mila in the other. “Yeah,” he murmured, “This one was definitely a favorite.”
Becoming a parent with Spencer was a dream come true, there was nothing you could think of that would top this year. Tilting your head back, you looked up at him, “So, what are you going to wish for this year?”
His gaze flittered down to the baby on his hip.
You shook your head immediately, “Pick something else,” you said, giggling at his silent suggestion. To you, it felt much too soon to think about another baby, and you knew Spencer was mostly joking. The two of you had previously decided on waiting.
Spencer sighed in response, looking between you and Mila, “More of this,” he answered, “The three of us, together.”
Raising your eyebrows, “Avoiding a party together.”
“As a family should,” he affirmed, beaming at you.
You were smiling so much that your cheeks ached, and you nodded your head in the direction of the door, “C’mon, there’s a cake downstairs with your name on it. Literally.”  
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mochinomnoms · 2 days ago
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say you can't sleep, baby, I know
NSFW!Trey x Reader
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Synopsis
You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You're trying to rile him up, right? He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. Trey used to pride himself on his levelheadedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece. “Happy Birthday Trey~”
[wc} - 5,258
[cw/tags] - afab!gn!reader (im sorry folks it's all i know how to write still), NRC is a university in this, domesticity kink, birthday sex, breeding kink (sue me), oral (giving & receiving), trey can be a little mean as a treat
[notes] - i apologize for the person i've become after seeing trey's new b-day card. it does things to me and this is 100% self-indulgent for me. also, tried to use very neutral descriptors for reader so tell me how that went and if it reads well! lastly, the outfit the reader wears is based on sabrina carpenter's outfits from her short n' sweet tour, specifically the baby doll one!
Written while listening to “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter, I recommend listening to it while reading :)
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Let’s consider exactly the type of person Trey is.
Ever since he’s started school at NRC, he’s always taken a bit of a parental role in Heartslabyul, even before he became vice housewarden. Even Cater would joke about it when they first became friends:
“You’re, like, a total big bro! O-M-G, no! You’re like a dad friend! I’m totes willing to bet that the incoming freshmen are gonna slip up! Call you Dad or something!”
Evidently, when Riddle came into the picture and Trey was appointed his vice, Cater was proven right. He didn’t mind it too much, despite what others might think. 
He liked the familiarity of it, being the oldest at home, it translated well into his position at Heartslabyul, and it came with the added bonus of being able to minimize any chaos that arose. 
That was his main goal, especially with Riddle’s temper during his freshman and at the beginning of his sophomore year. Honestly, he had phenomenal conflict resolution skills, and he just wanted to make his life as easy as possible. 
Everyone at this school liked to make that difficult, though, especially the freshmen of this year.
“Oh fu—I mean sh—dam—fuc—shi—FIDDLESTICKS!”
“Dude, just say fuck, why you gotta say the corniest shit—OW—Treyyy! Deuce hit me!”
Deuce had a guilty look on his face as Trey looked up from his notebook to raise a brow at the two.
“W-well, Ace cussed, so he has to put money in the swear jar!”
“Aw what! Come on Trey!” Ace whined, shoving Deuce’s face to the side as the latter grunted and started pulling at his cheeks and arm. “Riddle’s not here, he’ll never know, so I don’t gotta! Don’t make me!”
Trey simply smirked and gestured to the jar on the fireplace mantle, helpfully available to everyone in the lounge. 
“You know the rules, bud, two thaurmarks for the f-bomb and a .50 cent for the other.”
Ace tossed his head back and groaned, begrudgingly dragging himself over to the jar as he dug around his pocket for change.
“Don’t be rude to your father, Ace.” A few giggles and snorts vibrated amongst the small group studying in the lounge as you wagged a finger at Ace, Grim squinting angrily at the book in your lap. 
Your lips quivered as you hid a laugh, jokingly chastising the ginger. 
“No need to be a brat.”
Trey had to withhold a snort at that comment, rich coming from you. He knew better than anyone that you could be as much of a brat as you were another parental figure.
“Oh ha-ha, very funny, Prefect. What, does that make you, Mom or Dad 2?” Ace stuck his tongue out at you as you grinned and focused back on Grim. 
“Okay Grimmy, so remember, what alchemy recipes need mandrake root?”
Watching from the corner of his eye, Trey watched fondly as you murmured soft words to Grim. It reminded him of his Mom talking to his siblings after a nightmare, or of his Dad after one of them would get hurt in the kitchen. 
Soft, soothing, parental. You’d make an excellent parent one day. 
Trey felt himself get warm at the thought, adjusting himself in his seat and looking back at his musicology notes. He couldn’t sing very well, but he can memorize notes, and that’s what the upcoming exam was focused on. 
That’s what he needed to focus on, not the way you cradled Grim against you like a parent with their child. Focus on his alchemy flashcards, and not the way you cleaned up the mess on the table so you could bring everyone a tray of snacks he’d prepared earlier that day. Focus on the history textbook in front of him, and not the way you cleaned up the lounge as it got later and later.
It wasn’t fair. It was so unfair how well you fell into the role. Cleaning and humming, one of his spare aprons on you as you wiped down the tables of crumbs and stacked a pile of dishes. It was unfair how sweetly you murmured to the few remaining students, and told them to go to bed and rest up. 
They obliged, probably half asleep at this rate, since it was an hour until midnight. Ace and Deuce had retired a while ago, the latter leaning on the former as they haphazardly stumbled to their room. 
Riddle had dropped by after his housewarden meeting, satisfied by the study group, but ultimately stuck to his very strict evening routine. 
Now it was just you two. Even Grim had been tugged along with Ace and Deuce earlier, not unlike a rag doll slung over their shoulders. 
“Trey? Honey, when are you going to sleep? It’s almost midnight.” His eyes fluttered tiredly as he felt your hands slide over his shoulders and a kiss pressed against his temple.
He felt warm again, heat pooling in his belly. You were so unfair. 
“You should go to bed soon, come on, I’ll take care of you.”
He can think of a few ways you could ‘take care’ of him. 
“It’s fine, why don’t you get Grim and head back to Ramshackle? Curfew is in 30 minutes, you know?”
You rolled your eyes, sighing into his ear, making a tingle go down his spine.
“Okay, but please go to bed soon? I left you a little birthday surprise in your bedroom~”
Trey perked up at that, eyeing your mischievous grin as you waved your fingers goodbye, going down the hallway to the dorms to grab Grim.
To be honest, he’d forgotten that his birthday was tomorrow, he’d been so focused on his midterms that it just slipped his mind. Well, he can’t say he’s not excited to see what you got him, especially since you’d been not too subtly probing him for preferences.
He groaned, running his hands over his face and sighing, heavy and exhausted.
“Ugh, just a bit more and I’ll retire for the night.” Trey reassured himself, eyes straining as he looked between the books in front of him. 
The words on the papers blurred after a bit, the sound of the grandclock lulling him further into sleep, his head nodding off until a ping from his phone started him awake.
It was Cater, his Magicam user popping up on his screen. 
cay-cay_diamond: hbd trey!! 🥳🎉🎉🎉grats on being an old man now!
Blinking at the clock, Trey realized that it was now a few minutes past midnight, so it was technically his birthday. He’s lucky that Riddle followed his own sleep schedule so rigorously, or else he’d be getting a scolding for breaking curfew.
luckyclover: Old? I’m only like 4 months older than you cay-cay_diamond: yeah. old. cay-cay_diamond: anyways! enjoy the gift in ur room!!! i helped (name) pick out the wrapping 😘😘😘
Trey hummed, a small smile on his face as he imagined the two of you bickering over wrapping paper and messily wrapping up a box with a bow. You did seem very excited for him to find it earlier, maybe you two picked something out together. 
He was curious on what exactly you got him and why you hadn’t waited to give it to him at his actual birthday party. And why did you need Cater to help you…you’d always shoo him away when he’d tried helping you with gifts for other’s birthdays. 
Stacking his books into his left hand and walking towards the junior dorm rooms, Trey looked at his phone as it pinged again. 
cay-cay_diamond: on that topic thooo…u should rly go 2 ur room and get ur present! the poor thing! they’ve been w8ing very patiently 4 u~ luckyclover: Waiting? (Name)??? cay-cay_diamond: 🤭🤫😉
Trey sighed, shaking his head and tucking his phone away and digging out his room keys. It was times like these, deep into the night, when he was thankful for having his own room. He felt a bit bad now, you probably fell asleep in his bed waiting for him. 
Though, the thought of you clutching one of his pillows, maybe in one of his sweaters to keep warm, made him smile. Then he could come in, gently take your clothes and shoes off to get you more comfortable, and dress down himself to slip in right behind you.
As he finally managed to get to his room, he heard shuffling as he turned the keys. Trey smirked, noticing that only his rose lamp remained on, and all the drapes to his canopy were now closed. 
He could just barely make out the shadow of you moving behind them, hearing you gasp and the bed squeak, making him let out a soft laugh under his breath.
“You’re breaking curfew, you should be asleep you know? You're such a troublemaker sometimes.” Trey teased you as placed his books on his desk, tossing his hat onto its stand and slipping his shoes off to throw them into his wardrobe and grab his slippers. 
He yawned, the late night really starting to sink into his body as he started undressing, his jacket and vest getting hung back up in the closet as he worked on his sash and unbuttoning his pants.  
“Only like a third of the time!” You whined, the bed softly squeaking as you followed his movements behind the canopy. “Besides, I really wanted to give you your present. Don’t you want to unwrap me?”
Trey paused at the purr in your voice, narrowing his gaze as he saw your hand ever so slightly move the curtain at the end of the bed to peek at him. You were still mostly shrouded in darkness, but there was a very soft glow coming from inside the canopy, so he could just barely make out your mischievous smile.
Though, you quickly frowned, eyeing him up and down out of concern. 
“Not if you’re too tired though, you have bags under your eyes, Trey. Do you just wanna go to sleep?”
Giving you a weary smile, Trey finally tossed his sash to the side and reached for the curtains, pushing them to the side to finally take a look at your “mysterious” present. 
“In a bit, let me see what you got me…”
Trey’s breath hitched, he suddenly felt very wide awake as his eyes roamed up and down your body. 
From the corner of his eye, he could see that you set up string lights along the top of the canopy for ambiance, making you look like you were almost glowing. Though it wasn’t that that made him lose his voice. 
You were sitting on the edge of his bed with your legs curled underneath you, dressed in the most darling sage-green, sheer baby doll dress. The dress's puffy sleeves and hem were lacy, matching the lace on the stockings. 
Holy shit you were wearing stockings.
“Ha, I wanted to surprise you, I thought you could use a stress reliever.”
You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?
“I should’ve realized that you’d be tired from studying for midterms, sorry.”
You're trying to rile him up, right?
“But, still, do you like it? I wrapped myself up just for you~”
He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. To behave.
“In any case,” You shifted onto your knees, the dress splitting in the middle, the only thing keeping it together being a small bow at the base of your neck, revealing the lack of undergarments, just your bare skin underneath. “Even if you’re too tired and just want to sleep, I just wanted to say…”
Trey leaned in as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, batting your eyelashes and ghosting your lips over his with a teasing smile. Your hands caressed the back of his neck, a thumb rubbing soothing circles, making him melt. 
“Happy Birthday Trey~”
It’s now that he noticed that you even added a gloss to your lips, and he could smell the warm perfume on your neck as you pressed your lips to his, tongue swiping over his mouth, asking for permission to enter. Obliging, Trey sighed into the kiss and tangled his tongue with yours, his hands slipping underneath the baby doll and squeezing at your waist.
He really should go to sleep. He has to wake up early for the party. He has to dress in his birthday robes. He has to make sure that the others don’t burn down the kitchen or damage his expensive bakeware as they made his cake. 
But the way your skin felt under his gloved hands, skin meeting skin, lace, skin, and lace again.
How could he be expected to sleep now?
Trey used to pride himself on his level headedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece.
Humming in delight against your mouth, Trey slid his hands down, as you curled into his body in response, and squeezed at the fat of your thighs before picking you up. 
A yelp left your mouth as he picked you up and tossed you up the bed, pulling off his shirt and tossing it behind him as he crawled on top of you.
His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he saw the way the dress fell open to expose your body, your chest moving up and down as you watched him with a giddy smile. 
“Oh! I guess you’re not that tired—ah!”
You gasped as Trey grabbed your calves, tugging you up to place the back of your knees on his shoulders. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your right thigh, smirking against the lace. 
“I was tired. I should be asleep,” Trey murmured against your stocking laced skin, pressing kisses as he went farther and farther down. “Resting—kiss—Up—kiss—but no.”
He gave you a half-hearted glare, which you responded with a smile and lacing your hands through his hair as he pressed another kiss to the bend where your thigh met your sex. 
“You broke curfew, you wanted to keep me up with your little ‘present’, you know I’d get in trouble for hiding you out in my room.”
Trey gave you a bite on your thigh, groaning as he felt your hands tighten in his hair, moving back to press a soothing kiss to the mark he left.
“Are you trying to get me in trouble? Throw me in the doghouse?”  “Cause I’ll make sure you come right with me, after a little taste of my birthday treat.”
The same time he ran his tongue up your sex, Trey could feel you shiver and pull on his hair as he ate you feverishly, like a man starved from food or water for ages. 
“Mmm! Trey!” You threw your head back, bringing one hand up to slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, the walls here weren’t known to be sound-proof. 
He should probably care a bit more, especially when you let out a particularly high-pitched squeal as his tongue began fucking into your hole. 
“Trey! Oooh, Trey~” 
Bringing a finger to join his tongue, Trey smiled against your skin as you squeezed your thighs around his head, using his free hand to push his pants and underwear down to palm at his dick. 
“Trey—aaaah—wait, let me—mmph—Honey—” You let out a shuddering gasp, pulling his head up from your sex. Trey locked eyes with you, leaning into the hand you slid down to cup his cheek and caress his lower lips, wiping the slick and drool from the corner of his mouth.
“Yes? Honey?” Removing his hand from inside you to cover your own hand and kiss your palm, Trey smiled and hummed, “I like that, you know, reminds me of a husband coming home to his spouse.”
Pressing kisses up your body, soft and tingly, up your neck, and back to your lips where they belonged.
“Hmm, I really like the sound of that, (Name) Clover.” You murmured against his lips, smiling as you wrapped a leg around his waist to bring his dick closer to your sex, rubbing against him as you both sighed into each other’s mouths. 
“Is that what you want? You want me to be a cute little spouse? Dress up in a cute apron? Greet you when you come home from work?”
So focused on the softness of your lips and the wetness sliding against his dick, Trey didn’t even notice you twisting your body to turn him onto his back, the back of his head hitting the back of his pillows as you sat on top with a cheeky grin. 
“Hm? How would my husband want me to welcome him home? A hug? A kiss? Mm, what about…me?” Trey watched you with flushed cheeks as you kissed down his body, mimicking his earlier actions as you helped him tug off the rest of his clothes. 
“Oh, how nice it would be for you to come back to a warm, clean home with a spouse…” Looking up at him through your eyelashes and giving him a kitten lick to his tip. “...ready to give soft wet holes for you to fill~”
Giving him a vision into that sweet, sweet future, you swallowed his tip, down his shaft, and started sucking. 
“Haaah—”
Trey lolled his head back into his pillow, letting out a breathless moan as you bobbed your head up and down his length, your hand working the rest that didn’t fit into your mouth. 
“Fuuuuck. That does sound nice—mmh!” Reaching his hand down, you immediately took one of your hands to lace it with his, squeezing it as you hummed around his cock. 
“My lovely spouse—nnnngh—their pretty mouth—unnnh—soft holes—aaaah—all for me to come home to every day, what a dream~”
A particularly harsh suck made Trey arch his back and squeeze your hand harder, a giggle vibrating his dick as you pulled off. 
“Hehe, is this your way of proposing? Kinda dirty to do it with your dick on my mouth.” You giggled, pressing kisses and quick licks along his shaft. 
“That’s okay though, you and I both know that deep down, you’re a bit of a pervert. Right?”
Trey scoffed, tugging you up with a bemused smile. “Yeah? How can you tell? Thought I hid that pretty well.”
A soft laugh escaping you, you held both of his hands, bringing them up to press kisses on his knuckles, making the green-haired man sigh fondly. 
“The way you look at me sometimes, like you’re undressing me. It makes me feel all warm and tingly, especially when I piss you off.”
Both of you let out a breathless moan as your wetness rubbed against his hard dick, grinding against one another as the tip occasionally caught against your hole, making you shiver. 
“Is it bad that sometimes I wanna get you mad so you’ll fuck me real mean? Is it bad that I want you to use me? To fuck your stress out with me?”
A lump forming in his throat, Trey let go of your hands to pull at the string holding your flimsy baby doll together. Eyes half lidded, he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, watching it pool at your elbows as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself as your grinding turned into vigorous humping against him, making you both gasp in pleasure. 
“Ooh, Trey, honey, baby, hubby~ Won’t you use me? Be a little mean? Pleeeease? Fuck me, fill me up like I know you want! Pleeeeease Trey? Pretty, pretty please?”
Lips smashed against yours as Trey bolted up, groaning into your mouth as he grabbed your hips in an almost painful grip. 
He picked you up once again, throwing you on all fours, covers tangling against your knees and hands, as he ripped your dress off and tossed it. 
Trey’s left hand placed itself on your hip, while his right pushed down on your back, following up your spine to the base of your neck where he pushed you down to shove your face into the sheets, forcing you into a doggy pose.
“So you do like getting me in trouble, little brat. Fine, I’ll be mean.” 
Trey lined his dick against your throbbing hole, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your ear and moving the hand on your neck to wove with your right, squeezing it reassuringly. 
“Squeeze three times if you need me to stop, otherwise, I’m going to fuck that brain right out of your pretty little head, since you don’t seem to be wanting to use it.”
In one, swift move, Trey slammed his hips to your ass, sinking nearly half his length into your warm, waiting hole. 
“FUCK! YES—MMMPH” Burying your face into the sheets to muffle your cries, Trey did the same into your shoulder, shivering at your tightness around him. 
Setting a rhythm, hips smacking into your ass, Trey worked the rest of his cock into you until he could hear the smack of your ass against his hips, the sound echoing with the creak of the bed.
Your tightness around him was heavenly, as was the sight of you sinking further into the bed and arching your ass to sloppily meet his thrusts. Straightening again, bending your arm back so that your hands could remain intertwined.
His left hand caressed your back and the fat of your behind, before bringing it down in a harsh slap to your ass, making you yelp and squeeze his hand in a vice grip, though you also tightened around his cock. 
Rubbing a soothing circle against the reddening skin, slowed his thrusts, making you whine and push against him. 
“Haaah, that okay? Feel good?” Trey murmured, smiling at the frantic nod and wiggle against him. “Want me to keep going?”
“Mmmph... yessshh... mmmore, mmmore... pleeeashh, honey~” Your sounds were muffled as you bit into the blanket, getting higher and higher as he obliged, not one to deny you after all. 
Every other thrust was met with a slap to one cheek, then the other, the skin turning redder and redder with his handprints marking you. The harder he went, the more and more slack you went, until he was eventually just fucking you like his personal toy. 
Though, you did offer yourself as his present, didn’t you? So it was only fair that he got to use his present as he wished, and right now, he wanted to feel you cumming around him. 
Ceasing his smacks, making you whine, Trey instead melded his body against yours, the weight both overwhelming and comforting, as his left hand instead moved to your sex to rub you to completion. 
Trey watched as you gasped for breath, completely burying your head into the bed to muffled your screams as you came around him, trembling and squeezing him. 
The feeling of your walls pulsating around his shaft was becoming dangerously addicting, and he was very greedy for more of that. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so close! You can give me another one, right?”
Slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you up, Trey adjusted you so that you sat on his dick, kissing the side of your neck for reassurance as he let go of your hand to quickly slide his arms under your knees. 
From all his years of tossing bags of flour and sugar, from kneading dough, from all the labor he’s done as a baker, picking you up was like child’s play. 
Folding your knees up to your chest so he could hold you, back flush to his chest, was nothing for him. Everything for you, though, your over sensitive hole squeezing down on him again.  
“FUCK! I caaame! Treytreytreytrey—” You dug a hand into his arm, tossing your head back and lolling your tongue out with a dumb, drooly smile on your lips. 
“A-almost there—nngh—just squeeze if I need to stop—I’m so close~”
Smashing his lips against yours for an open mouth, wet kiss, Trey pounded faster into you, determined to feel your walls pulsate again, this time as he filled your insides up like one of his pastries. 
Then, an awful, perverted thought filled his head, like a devil was whispering in his ear. 
Why doesn’t he fill them up with his kids? Don’t stop until his cum is drooling out of their hole, and go again to make up for the lost seed. He already wants them to be his spouse, why not add a few little ones to that picture?
Trey was losing any bit of restraint that he may have had as he was now determined to fullfill his fantasy. Even if you couldn’t do it, magic made anything here possible, and right now is good practice anyway.
“I’m—aaaahhh—I’m gonna come inside, okay? Fill you up, yeah?”
Digging your nails into his skin, you nodded against his mouth and whined. 
“Yessssss! Fill me up! Inside! Gimme a baby Trey! I wanna make you a daaaaddy~”
Squeezing your legs further against your chest, Trey pounded faster and faster, trembling as he reached close and closer to his peak. 
Warmth flooded his body, tingles, and he swears sparks, flying over his skin as he felt you clamp down on him for a third time. 
Your voice squealed higher and higher, any previous attempt to be quiet for naught as you practically screamed.
Trey shuddered as he finally came, cum flooding your warm insides as you went limp in his arms. 
Panting for air, both of you remained still for a minute, the bed feeling stuffy with the curtains still closed. After another minute, Trey pulled you up and off of him, shaky as his now limp dick left your warm, comfortable embrace.
Doing his best to gently place you on the bed, Trey let out a breathless laugh as you collapsed on the bed like a rag doll, blinking your eyes tiredly at the ceiling of the canopy. 
“Haah, sorry, I went too hard there, huh?”
You shook your head, giving him a tired smile and reaching a hand for him, which he took and brought up to kiss. 
“It was good, really, good. You liked your present?”
Snorting and nodding, Trey carefully scooped you up to move your head onto the pillows and gently roll off your garter stocking, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he did. 
“Yeah, I did. Come on, let me get you a shirt.”
You whined as he pulled away, exhaustion starting to steep into him as he tied back the curtains to the canopy to let the stuffiness out. Trey picked up the baby doll he’d tossed earlier, placing it into his wardrobe drawer as he dug out a shirt and sweatpants for himself and a shirt for you.
As he closed the drawer, he noticed your backpack hidden underneath it, digging in it to grab you some underwear. You had packed a pair of pajamas, apparently, but…he’d rather see you in his clothes. 
“Hmm, honey? Come to bed…” You whined, hands reaching out for him impatiently as he slipped on his clothes, crawling over to you and helping you slip your underwear and his shirt on. 
“I’m here, I’m here.”
Trey slowly blinked, eyelids heavy as he scoop you up to place you two under the covers, the soft mattress making him practically become one with the bed and you as you nestled into his chest. 
Your legs tangled with his as Trey wrapped his arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. He could feel fatigue and sleep quickly taking over him as your voice vibrated against his chest, soft and sleepy. 
“Happy birthday honey, I—yawn—love…you…”
A different kind of warmth, soft and sweet, filled him as he squeezed you tighter against him, murmuring back. 
“I love you too…”
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*Riiiing* *Riiiiiiiing* *Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*
An irritating, loud noise filled Trey’s ears as he groaned, half-awake as he turned over to smack his hand on his phone, silencing the alarm. 
“Aah…Noisy…hhggh.” Trey groaned, rolling over, careful to not crush you under him to blindly reach for his glasses. 
“Glasses…glasses…ah..”
Plastic and glass finally under his palm, Trey slipped his glasses on his face, ultimately throwing himself back into bed next to you, who’d begun shifting awake.
“Mmm, honey?” 
Grunting in response, Trey threw an arm over his eyes, irritated at the sun seeping through the window into his eyes. 
“Early…”
You chuckled, a yawn escaping you as you decided to move closer and slip a hand under his shirt to rub at his chest, pressing kisses into his neck as well. 
“You’re so grumpy in the morning. Come on, you've got a big day ahead.”
“…Ugh, I do?”
Snorting at his response, Trey grunted as he felt you move, peaking under his arm to see you resting on your elbow. You had puffy, dark circles under your eyes from the little sleep you managed to get. 
“Birthdays are a pretty big deal, right?” Smiling at him, Trey squinted an eye and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in protest.
“Ugggh, yeah…”
Hearing you hum, Trey groaned in surprise as he felt you straddle his waist and caress his neck and cheeks, making him remove his arm to blink up at you. 
Your hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in all sorts of places. The bags under your eyes more noticeable under the night. His shirt dwarfed you. You were a hot mess, all things considered. 
He probably wouldn’t say it out loud, with how cute you were last night, but he thinks you look most beautiful like this. Better than any frilly, skimpy, or tight outfit.
“Come on, Birthday Boy, want me to give you a little pick me up?”
Kissing him with a smile, Trey moaned into the lazy, sloppy morning kiss, tilting his head back as you pressed kissed down his neck, deciding to work on leaving a love bite at the nape of his neck.
Trey’s phone chimed, making him sigh as he reached for it, letting you continue your love bites and kisses, 
Squinting at the few messages, it seemed like a few of his friends and classmates were already sending him birthday wishes. Though, a message from Cater made him blot up, a sudden shock of alertness running down his spine. 
“Ah! Trey, what is it?”
cay-cay_diamond: morning!! happy bday 2 the bday boi again! thought i let u no tht u owe me a favor, had 2 cast a silencing spell on ur roum last nite. totes ruined my beauty sleep! cay-cay_diamond: also i know u got ur lil cutie 2 distract ya, but liek dont b l8 2 ur bday breakfast, grimmy might eat it!
“Shit, we were too loud, Cater had to cast a silencing spell on the room.”
You made an ‘oh’ shape with your mouth, giving Trey an apologetic smile. 
“Sorry, but at least you enjoyed it, right?”
Trey smiled, more awake now, and nodded, sharing a sweet kiss with you. 
“Definitely. You might have to consider making your go-to gift for now on, it’s gotta be my favorite one I’ve ever gotten.”
He solidified that statement with one more, firm, assuring kiss with you, before having to leave your sweet dream into the real world. 
At least he could have one part of that dream with him at his side from now on: you. 
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comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷
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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 day ago
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5 acts
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words: 2k
warnings: soft!rafe, very fluffy, insecurity from rafe, reader is described as having curly hair, established relationship, brief nudity but very sfw (reader is topless while getting a massage but no descriptions)
5 acts of service to spark romance between you and your partner
make their morning easier: make them breakfast, or their coffee just as they like it
take care of their vehicle: get it washed, filled, and oil changed if needed. it'll feel like a weight off their shoulders
organize something meaningful for them: go through an old photo album or set up a space in the home that caters to them
pamper them after a long day: draw a bath, brush their hair, give them a massage 
set up their favorite movie night: get their favorite snacks, light some candles, and turn a simple movie night into a romantic evening
rafe frowns as he reads over the list again.
“baby!” your voice rings out, and he's quick to jump to his feet and rush down the stairs.
“oh!” you stop as he lands on the hardwood in front of you. “you came down so quickly.” you giggle. “i was just going to tell you dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”
“ill get the table set up.” rafe leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you to look at him in confusion as he walks away, a certain amount of pep in his step you're not used to seeing.
you get even more suspicious when you bring the dish into the dining room and see that rafe has a candle lit.
“is there a special occasion i forgot about?” you question as rafe pulls your chair out for you.
“nope, just treating my girl.” rafe swallows thickly, surprised and disappointed in himself that you're already noticing his change in behavior.
it all started last weekend when rafe overheard you talking to your girlfriends about love languages. he didn't mean to eavesdrop, truly, but he found himself quickly locked in when you said yours was acts of service and quality time, but that you couldn't think of any acts of service rafe has done recently.
you didn't sound that upset about it, and even immediately clarified that rafe makes up for it in other ways and you weren't even sure what he could do for you, but rafe was determined to change the tides of your relationship.
act 1
rafe shuts his alarm off quickly before looking over at you, making sure the beeping didn't wake you up as well.
he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees your eyes are still closed before carefully sliding out of bed and tiptoeing out of the room.
rafe makes it to the kitchen keeping his steps quiet as he looks around at the various cabinets. he's not sure where to start, so he begins with unloading the dishwasher and putting everything away, when he opens up a cabinet to see the waffle maker and an idea sparks.
rafe opens up the pantry, stepping in to find the mix as well as anything else he might need for the breakfast, and just like that, rafes plan sets into motion.
he makes a stack of waffles, but not before turning on the coffee machine so you can wake up to a fresh brew. he makes a good portion of eggs for you to split before checking the clock, figuring it's about time to check to see if you're awake.
rafe pours your coffee in your favorite tumbler before adding ice and syrup, smiling at himself for remembering just how you like it.
rafe is about to head out of the kitchen when he hears your footsteps coming down the stairs.
“good morning ba-”
“oh my god, im so late for my nail appointment, why didn't you wake me up?” you squeal, grabbing your purse and adjusting the outfit you threw on quickly.
“i didn-”
“i got to leave, like right now, sorry babe.” you run up to rafe and press a quick kiss to his lips, about to rush away when you realize the two plates of breakfast.
“it's okay.” rafe shakes his head. “i'll make you breakfast a different day. forgot you had a nail appointment. but here-” rafe grabs the tumbler and thrusts it into your hand. “at least take the coffee i made you.”
rafe can see the conflicting emotions going on inside your head.
“hey.” he says softly. “it's okay. go. you and i both know how ridiculous those late fees are.”
“okay.” you nod, pouting and looking back at the plates as you leave.
act 2
“do you have any plans today?” rafe asks, brushing your hair away from your face.
“nope. just hanging with you.” you smile up at him, snuggling closer to his side, not yet ready to leave the bed when rafe is keeping you so warm, occasionally pressing kisses to your face.
“im gonna go take your car to get it serviced.” rafe says. “since you don't have anything going on.”
“oh.” you hum. “okay.” you were secretly hoping you could just have a lazy day in bed with rafe, maybe even force him to watch some trashy reality tv, knowing it'll only take a couple minutes for him to get fully invested in whatever drama starts up between the couples.
“you stay in bed though.” rafe smiles at you, sliding out from under the covers, leaving you to pull the blanket tighter around yourself and inhale his fleeting scent.
rafe heads down the stairs, a pep in his step at getting this task done for you. he grabs your keys before heading out the door, taking it to the service center first for an oil change. it's not very dirty on the inside, but rafe decides he'll still vacuum the inside after taking it through the wash.
you really only use your car when rafe is gone or you have an appointment, so it doesn't get used often.
rafe finishes everything he wants to get done for you, filling up your tank before driving back home.
rafe is whistling and happy as he returns home and heads back up the stairs, and just like he expects, you're still in bed, but sat up, watching the television.
“hey baby.” your smile widens as you see him. “i missed you so much.”
“sorry, doll.” rafe changes quickly before climbing into the bed. “but i got everything done on your car.”
“thanks.” you hum. “really appreciate it.” you press your face into his chest, throwing one leg over his hips as you return to a lying position, no longer caring about what's on the tv now that you've got your boyfriend back.
“you don't have anything else you wanna get done today, do you?” you ask. “i thought we'd have all day together.”
rafe sighs as he looks at the clock, realizing just how long it took him to service your vehicle. “well, we have the rest of the day at least.”
act 3
“um, rafe?” you call out as you open up a drawer in your closet, expecting to see the tangled mess of necklaces and earrings just as you left it.
“honey?” rafe walks into your bedroom before realizing you’re in the closet.
“where’d all my jewelry go?” you ask confused.
“oh, i organized it for you.” rafe moves to the drawers, sliding open the two underneath to reveal jewelry displays and every piece neatly put away. “i also got you a display for your favorite necklaces but i wanted you to choose what ones go up there.”
“where at?” you ask, noticing the necklace rafe got you for your first anniversary in missing from the drawer.
rafe doesn’t respond with his words, taking your hand and guiding you out of the closet and into the main bedroom, where you notice the necklace stand shaped like a tree with two chains already hanging from them.
“oh my gosh, whats this?” you squeal, pulling the new necklace off the stand, admiring the diamonds that glitter back at you in the shape of an r.
“for you, baby.” rafe kisses your cheek.
“what has gotten into you?” you ask, but before rafe can worry too much about you figuring out he’s following a guide on how to treat you better, you turn and pull your hair off your neck for him to slot the necklace on.
act 4 
“oh right there!” you moan out as rafe rubs at your back, hands smoothing up and down against your skin, gently kneading into your muscles as he does.
“love pampering you baby.” rafe leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder blade.
“you’re so sweet.” you smile and turn your head. “i’m gonna have to make it up to you.”
“you already treat me better than i deserve.”
you frown and turn over onto your stomach, bringing the blanket with you to keep your chest covered. “not true. you’re an amazing boyfriend.”
“thanks, doll.” rafe doesn’t want you to worry about his insecurities in this moment, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “stay there.”
you get comfortable on your back, eyes sliding shut as rafe starts some gentle music. it flows from the speakers as rafe hums along to the instrumental version of a popular song, grabbing your hairbrush from off the dresser.
you are only vaguely aware of rafes movements, when suddenly a hand is placed on the top of your head, massaging against your scalp that has you moaning out again.
you hear rafe chuckle at your reaction, the sides of your lips also quirking up, when you suddenly feel a hairbrush running through your strands.
you scrunch your face up and give it a moment, hoping rafe would stop when he suddenly brushes through a tangle, making you cry out.
“shit.” rafe drops the brush with a clatter onto the hardwood. “im sorry.”
you can hear the defeat in rafes voice and you turn over onto your stomach to face him, frowning. “baby? whats wrong?”
“i just can’t do anything right. i try to make you breakfast, you have to leave. i take your car to be serviced, and i miss out and spending time with you. i can’t even brush your hair all romantically like the guide said.”
“guide?” you question, grabbing your shirt and putting it back on as you pull rafe up to sit on the bed next to you.
“i… i read something online. about acts of service you can do for your partner. i just want to be a good boyfriend.”
you don’t mean to, but a laugh falls from your lips. “rafe, that’s ridiculous. you’re already the best boyfriend without even trying. did i say or do something to make you feel like you needed to try harder?”
“no-” rafe sighs, knowing he has to admit it. “i just heard you talking with your friend about love languages. i’m trying to make it up to you.”
“and the guide told you to brush my hair?” you scoff. “im guessing whoever wrote that did not have curls.”
“you're probably right.” rafe lets a smile come to his face.
“i love you for you, not because of the things you do for me. besides, you do enough without even trying or following some guide. you take out the trash, you stock up on my favorite treats, you get me anything i want whenever i feel the slightest bit ill.”
“so… you don’t want me to do the last thing on the guide?”
“depends what it is.” you shrug. “if it involves you leaving and doing something for me, then absolutely not. or at least you can take me with you.”
“i set up a romantic movie night in the living room.”
“that sounds much better for both of us than you brushing my hair.” you giggle.
act 5
you tuck yourself further into rafes side, smiling as your favorite scene finishes, turning your attention to rafe.
“thank you for doing all this for me.” you whisper, keeping your voice soft. “i love you so much.”
“i love you.” rafe says earnestly, ducking his head to press a kiss against the top of your head, but you’re quick to reposition so your lips can meet.
“now we have to figure out your love language so i can do things for you.” you tell rafe.
“my love language is you.” rafe says, squeezing you tightly. “my everything is you.”
sfw tags: @winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0
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suiana · 2 days ago
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yandere! party baddie and yandere! stoner threeway relationship guys...
you're just a guy, literally just some guy. like yeah.
and you have two of the hottest people in the entire university pining after you, desperate for your attention. the guy who goes to all the parties and shakes his non-existent ass for everyone to see and the hot stoner who smokes on campus even after getting chased out by a dog. and yeah, you called it. they're best friends too.
you still don't know how it came to be like this but you decide to just ignore them because... why the hell not. you barely talk to them anyway and they just cling to you like you're a drug. you shouldn't give into what they want.
anyway, you decide to go to one of the parties hosted by mr party guy over here and holy shit when i tell you it just changed the trajectory of your life...
"baby you're here!"
"come smoke a blunt with me."
you were immediately dragged away from everyone else, made to sit far away from the main crowd as you get coddled by two... clearly not lucid people.
"hey, give them something to drink."
"why don't you do it? i'm smoking right now."
"erm... guys i don't want anything-"
yeah that didn't happen.
you ended up sharing a blunt with these two idiots over here, ignoring how the loud party man keeps yapping about how this was his dream blunt rotation and how you were so hot. you swear you could feel a headache coming up with how much he babbles into your ear.
at least his stoner bestie was quiet, right?
wrong, if anything he was worse. he was lighting a bong, getting all sorts of high as he leaves a hand on your body. this hand was very touchy too, might you add. gripping and groping your hip, massaging the flesh under his long and slender fingers...
you just wanted to let loose damnit! exams were exhausting and now you couldn't even party?! why the hell were you surrounded by these two people?!
"can you guys let me go?"
"hahahah! let go? why would we let you go? i mean, i don't want to share you with anyone. i mean.... this guy over here is fine but why would i let you dance with those losers there?"
"mn... filthy pests don't deserve you... yeah.. yeah...."
gyatt damn the stoner was completely BAKED. and this... this party loser is not helping at all.
"uh... i need to pee-"
"pee into my mouth please babe!"
"piss... piss? yeah? yeah."
you guys ended up cuddling on the couch getting high and making out because that's what they wanted and you ended up wanting it too because you were high and it sounded good.
oh and they also... kind of... ahem, announced that you belonged to them but it doesn't really matter, right?
it's just a small little detail that you definitely won't get mad at them for when you sober up later. surely! ahaha...
yeah you should've just stayed at home.
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uluvjay · 3 days ago
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First time for everything-Q. Hughes
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Quinn Hughes x fem! Reader
In which Quinn lets you ride his face!
Warnings?; SMUT, oral (obvi), cursing, kissing, talks of sex, sorry for any errors I missed!
Day seven of my kinktober special!
You were never one to tell about your sex life, it had always been something that you liked to keep to yourself but tequila always did make you tell the truth.
Standing at a table with the wags, bored out of your minds while your partners played a round of pool a round of dirty never have I ever started at your table.
“Never have I ever sat on someone’s face” one of the girls spoke up, everyone around the table dropping a finger-besides you.
Everyone’s eyes snapped to you, jaws dropping open in shock as you kept your finger stayed up.
“Y/n you’ve never been eaten out?” One of them asked, face full of seriousness.
You blushed at her words, “I’ve had someone eat me out..just never sat on their face.” You laughed awkwardly.
“Girl! you’re telling me you and Quinn have never tried it?”
You felt your cheeks get even hotter at the mention of your boyfriend, there was no doubt that you two had a busy sex life but you two were pretty set in your routine.
“No, what’s the difference?” You questioned.
You proceeded to sit in silence for the next few minutes as everyone went around explaining how much better it is, how you good it feels to grind down on them.
The conversation was abandoned a few minutes later as some of the guys made their ways over and inserted themselves.
Later that night you found yourself lost in your thoughts on the ride home, thinking about if Quinn would want to try it or how he’d feel.
Getting into the apartment Quinn plopped down on the expensive couch a sigh of relief to finally be home as his social battery was long drained.
His eyes popped open when he still hadn’t felt your body next to his or even heard you move, “What’s wrong?” He asked softly.
“Nothin-“
“Don’t say nothing, you’ve been quiet since we left the bar.” He cut you off, sitting up to give you his full attention.
“I-me and the girls were talking about something..and it just got me thinking.” You shrugged.
Shuffling over to him you moved to straddle his lap relaxing into him as his arms wrapped around your body.
“Did someone say something rude?”
“No No, it’s about..sex” you knew your cheeks were bright red at this point but there was no going back now.
“Oh?..” Quinn drawled out hinting for you to continue on.
You laughed to shake the nerves before continuing, “we were playing never have I ever and the topic of sitting on someone’s face came up..and I never have.”
Quinn didn’t need you to tell him that seeing as he’s the only man you’ve ever been with he knew your body and your experiences like the back of his hand.
You didn’t miss the smirk that tugged at his lips at your admission knowing he was doing his best to keep his words to himself and allow you to keep talking.
“..And I’ve been thinking about trying it. If you’re okay with it.” You spoke locking eyes with his dark one’s.
You shivered as his hands ran along the outside of your thighs and under your short skirt that he’d been eyeing all damn night.
“You wanna sit on my face baby?”
“Mhm”
You watched in amusement as he tossed his Yankees hat across the room laid flat against the couch.
He didn’t waste anytime before pulling your body higher up his positioning you so you were hovering over his mouth.
His lips kissed the skin of your thighs, teeth nipping the skin lightly pulling small gasps from your plump lips.
“Knew you didn’t have any panties on.” He scoffed as his eyes found your bare cunt under your blue skirt.
You moaned as his breath met your cunt the teasing breath he blew towards your glistening folds sending shivers down your spine.
“Ready?” He asked softly.
“Yes, please” you whimpered.
Quinn didn’t have to be told twice before he was lowering you to his mouth, the initial contact causing your hips to buck slightly only for your clit to catch on the tip of his nose.
Your hands flew to his dark locks as his arms circled around your thighs to pull you ever closer soft vibrations of his moans flowing to your center.
His tongue moved in mysterious ways, going from shapes to his name whatever he knew would have you shaking on top of him.
“Fuck Quinn.” You moaned body slumping forward your arm shot out to grip the back of the white couch while the other was still tangled in His hair.
It was so good but so fucking dirty, your hips moved on their own accord as you pretty much humped your boyfriend’s face.
Quinn didn’t mind one bit as he was lost in his own little world eating you like you were his last meal, he could already feel his chin dripping with your juices and there was no stopping him.
He kept going until he was about to pass out only pulling back for a sharp intake of air before going right back to work, basking in the way your moans floated throughout the small living room.
His nose was something he found himself being insecure of when he was younger and it still bothered him from time to time but after feeling the way you rubbing yourself against it desperately he’d never worry again.
The pleasure was flowing throughout your whole body making it harder and harder for you to hold off your quickly approaching orgasm.
“Quinn! I’m close.” You cried out breathlessly chest heaving as you continued your movements back and forth.
You could feel the man below you manage a nod-his way of telling you to cum for him.
And all it took was a few more strokes of his tongue before you were shaking on top of him, your mouth dropping open in a silent scream.
Quinn grunted at how hard your hands pulled at his hair the pain mixing with the pleasure he was feeling from knowing you were getting off.
He let you go for a second allowing you to catch your breath but just when he felt you attempting to pull back from his face he dove back in.
“Fuck!” You squealed at the unexpected sensation the mix of his tongue and previous orgasm sending shockwaves through your body.
Quinn moaned at the taste of you the sweetness of your juices and cum filling his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his tongue until he brought you to another orgasm.
Only when he felt your legs give out did he let up, releasing his grip he allowed you to move back down his body.
Once he finally sat back up he pulled you into a dirty kiss you could taste yourself on his tongue, your juices that coated his chin and surrounding areas spreading onto your face.
His eyes were dark when he pulled back, a look you’d never seen before in them. He looked like a starved man that was ready to eat you over and over again.
“Feel good?” He panted pulling you into his side.
“Good is an understatement, we’ll be doing that much more often.” You blushed.
“Fuck yeah we will.” He agreed.
-
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electrosuite · 2 days ago
Note
could you maybe do a fic where eddie is your dealer and you go to him and ask him to take your virginity and it turns out he's been fantasizing about fucking you since the day you met
warnings: swearing, drugs (marijuana), dirty talk, oral sex, descriptive sex
word count: 2.7k
masterlist
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You knocked against the door to Eddie's house, nervously sighing and crossing your arms. It took a moment, but the door opened to reveal a very sleepy looking Eddie.
You immediately felt guilty, relaxing your posture a bit.
"Shit, sorry. Did I wake you up?"
"It's fine. Everything okay? You pounded the shit out of the door."
You nodded. "I don't know. I just..." You were trying to think of a reasonable excuse for waking him up, but the best you could come up with was, "How much do you have?"
"Uhh..." He thought for a moment. "I'm down to my last ounce. I need to get more."
"Great. I'll take it."
"What, all of it?"
"Yeah." He looked at you like you were crazy. "What?"
"You never get more than an eighth."
"Well, I am today."
He was still a bit confused, but he moved out of the way and allowed you to step inside. You walked over to the couch and sat. He didn't take his eyes off of you until he got into his room, wondering what had you so upset.
When he brought his supply out, he laid it on the coffee table with enough rolling papers to make joints out of every last speck. This was what he always did for you. He rolled the joints before you even left because you struggled every time you tried.
The two of you were silent while he rolled the first one, then handed it to you. You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and lit it, that first inhale feeling better to your lungs than oxygen.
As he began rolling the second joint, he spoke up.
"So, what's up?"
"What do you mean?"
"You seem off. Is everything okay?"
You rubbed your eyes with your fingers, propping your elbow on your knee.
After a moment, you replied, "Do you think it's weird not to date in high school?"
He looked up at you. "Are you really asking me that question?"
"I mean do you think it's weird if a girl hasn't dated in high school?"
"Is there a difference?"
"You know there is. People treat it differently."
"Do you care what people think?"
"Of course I do. But that's not what this is about."
"Are you afraid you're weird for not dating?"
"I don't know. I mean, almost everyone I know is, and sometimes i just wonder if I'm... doing something wrong."
"What do you mean, 'doing something wrong'?"
"I don't know how to explain it. Like, if I'm doing something that makes me unattractive, or-"
"Trust me, you're not."
"You don't think so?"
"No," he chuckled. "Absolutely not."
You took note of his comments, noticing his reaction to you suggesting you're unattractive. You didn't say anything for a moment, just watched him roll joint after joint.
You stood up slowly and began pacing in the pathway between the couch and coffee table, shoving your hands in your pockets.
When he got to the last joint, you turned to him and sighed.
"Look, I didn't come here for weed," you blurted.
"What do you mean?"
"I came here..." You could feel your heart pounding. "I came here to ask if you'd be interested in... taking my virginity."
His hand movements froze, his eyebrows raised, and his eyes drifted up to look at you.
"What?"
"I've been thinking. A lot. I'm so close to graduating as a virgin, and I don't want that. I want to lose it before I graduate, and the person I'd want to do it with most is you. I trust you."
He laid the joint in his hands down and got to his feet, walking to the kitchen and washing his hands, taking his time. You followed him, continuing to ramble.
"You know, like I said, every one of my friends are in relationships, and I'm fine with not dating. But none of them are virgins, and I'm the only one." Eddie turned the water off and grabbed a rag to dry his hands. "I'm just worried that if I don't lose it now, then I won't lose it for a while. And I don't really want to be a virgin anymore."
He turned to you and grabbed your face, pulling you in and planting his lips against yours. It caught you off guard but you immediately kissed back.
It was a gentle yet assertive kiss, one with longing behind it. It felt so natural, like your lips were made for each other. You immediately gripped his sides and let out a soft whimper into his mouth.
His hands slid down the backs of your thighs and he picked you up, carrying you into his room and kicking the door closed behind him. He tenderly dropped you down sideways onto his bed, your head hanging off the edge a bit.
He kept kissing you, his hips between your thighs. He was much more dominant than you expected him to be, as if a switch flipped in his head the second he started thinking about sex.
You reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, looking down at his body. He was beautiful, and you pulled him back down to kiss you. But he broke it a moment later to undress you, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.
He stopped, looking down at your body with his mouth slightly agape.
"What?" you asked, beginning to get nervous from his reaction. "Is something wrong?"
"It's just... weird."
"What is?"
"You're my client. I'm your dealer. It's just not something I thought would happen."
"If you don't wanna do this-"
"Woah, I didn't say that." His hands began traveling up your thighs. "I've wanted to for... I don't even know how long." His fingers slipped under your panties, pulling them off of you slowly. "I've wanted you for so long." He watched your face as his digits found your clit. A small whine left your mouth as your eyebrows turned upwards, your head falling back off the mattress.
He didn't take his eyes off your face, and he felt his pants grow tighter. Watching you squirm under him, it was a dream come true.
He was going so, so slow, and all you wanted was for him to speed up. But he didn't, instead loving the idea of teasing you. Making you writhe under him, demanding more.
So he decided to remove his fingers and crawl off the bed, kneeling on the floor. He grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you close, your hips hanging off the mattress slightly.
And the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on your soaked pussy drove you insane. You moaned much louder than you meant to, but you couldn't help it. He apparently knew exactly what he was doing, because this felt magical.
You couldn't physically hold your hips still, so he pressed down firmly on your hips. And when you couldn't move, forced to stay still, it almost made it more pleasurable.
You didn't know what to do with your hands, so they latched onto his hair, pulling tightly. So tightly, in fact, that he groaned. And his voice against your body felt like vibrating. This made you gasp, immediately feeling your orgasm approaching.
"Fuck, Eddie."
He knew you were close just by the sounds you were making. They were needy, desperate. And it was all he could think about. He'd always wondered what you sounded like when you came. The sweet sounds that would fill the room. And the fact that your first orgasm from someone else would be with him... It was almost too much for him to handle.
He needed to make you cum - hard. He was determined to make it as mind-blowing as humanly possible, to wear you out just from his tongue.
So when your hips bucked uncontrollably and you fisted his hair even harder, he knew you were finally there. You couldn't hold in the scream, the original plan of trying to be quiet going out the window. And he kept it going, refusing to let up.
Normally when it was just you, you only came for a few seconds because it was all you could handle. But a few seconds was gone, and he could tell he succeeded in making this intense.
And when your orgasm began to end on its own, he finally slowed down, easing you out of it. But he still didn't completely stop. In fact, the sounds you made got him desperate to hear them again, deciding then and there that he could postpone his own pleasure for the sake of watching you squirm under his mouth again.
So when he picked back up on the speed, it didn't take long to get you there again, maybe twenty seconds.
And during all of that, he never closed his eyes or looked away from you, not even for a second. He needed to watch how good he made you feel, how good your first time was.
When you physically pushed him away, he realized that you'd had enough. And when you pulled him back up to you, he was like a puma pouncing on his prey. You reached under you and unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere on the floor.
"God, you're even more beautiful than I imagined."
His lips latched onto your breasts, cupping them in his hands. You reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, causing him to sit up on his knees. He watched your hands undo his pants, taking the opportunity to get up and pull them all the way off.
As he stood there, fully nude, you bit your lip at the sight. He looked so good, and he was rock hard. He dug through his nightstand and pulled out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth and sliding it down his length.
You knew he was going to be a lot to take, but if he was as good at sex as he was at oral, you were in for a good time.
When he crawled back on top of you, his hips settled against yours and he kissed your neck. Your hands found themselves against his ribs, fingertips pressed into his skin.
After a moment, he looked at you, making eye contact.
"You're sure about this?" he whispered.
"Are you really asking me that now?"
"I need you to answer me."
You reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear with your right hand.
"I've never been more sure about anything in my life, Eddie." You spoke softly, seductively. You pulled his face down so you could whisper into his ear. "I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."
He took in a tiny gasp at this, dirty talk not something he expected from you. You'd always been, for lack of a better word, pretty innocent. But he'd been surprised before, finding the most innocent girls to be freaks in bed.
"For your first time?"
You just nodded. "For every time."
And with that, he was kissing you again. He reached down to line himself up to your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You whined into his mouth and he smiled, the sound like music to his ears.
Once he was fully nestled into you, he also let out a moan. He didn't move at first though, allowing you time to adjust.
"That okay?"
"Oh god, you feel so good, Eddie."
He let out a satisfied sigh. "Good. Tell me if you want to stop at any point, alright?"
"I won't want to."
"Hey, I mean it. If it gets too much, or you change your mind at any point, make me stop. Okay?"
You nodded, smiling at him. "You're so sweet."
He kissed you again, beginning to move his hips. He started with slow, gentle thrusts to let you get used to him. But eventually, he couldn't resist picking up the pace.
You did ask for it rough, after all.
So he gave you what you asked for. He attacked your neck and collarbones with kisses, leaving sloppy spit marks all over your skin. The two of you were moaning and groaning in sync, the bed squeaking almost as loud.
He couldn't keep his lips off of you, sucking your skin hard and kissing you so deeply that your teeth were touching a few times.
He was trying to stay quiet so he could listen to your moans, but he couldn't hold them back. You felt incredible, like a warm wet hug. Like your body was made for him and only him. He fit perfectly inside of you, be it a bit snug.
He fisted the sheets under him and at this point he was going much quicker than he thought he could, which was almost overwhelming for you.
But it was just right. It was perfect.
So you frowned a little bit when he pulled out of you.
"Roll on your stomach," he commanded. You did, and he pulled a pillow over for you to lay your head on. He bent your left leg and when he was back into position, he held it in place with his knee. Your other leg was straight under him, your foot hanging off the bed.
You felt his hands on your lower back, his palms right on top of the dimples above your ass cheeks. He slid back into you, and this position felt even better.
"That okay?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," was all you could get out, so he kept going. Him holding your body down and slamming into you was a sensation you'd never experienced, it was nearly impossible to explain. All you could do was grip the pillow under your head.
He leaned down and kissed between your shoulder blades, leaving prints of his lips with his saliva.
"Goddamn, you feel good," he grunted, his fingers digging into your skin. He couldn't take his eyes off your back, littered with freckles. Your hair cascaded over your skin and in your face, and he noticed how perfectly beautiful you looked right now. Face buried in his pillow, ass jiggling with every thrust.
Fuck, he might be in love.
But the cherry on top was when you moaned his name. Your voice, the tone, the neediness, the desperation. He knew he was going to bust at any second, which was a first for him. Normally he lasted a while, but something about you was different. Maybe it was just how long he'd fantasized about this, how he was far more attracted to you than any other girl he'd slept with, he wasn't sure.
But you did something nobody else could do, which was gotten him there in less than five minutes.
And he decided he wanted to look into your eyes when he came.
So he pulled out of you quickly and rolled you back over, your head still on the pillow. He immediately slammed back into you and held your face with one hand as he kissed you, his other hand next to your shoulder to keep himself up.
"Y/N," he breathed.
"Hm?"
"I've never been so close so quickly before. I'm gonna cum."
"Good."
The hand he used to hold you still moved down to finger you, and you gasped into the kiss. He looked at you when you threw your head back, moving his lips to your jaw and neck again but still looking at your face, wanting to hear you.
And, like something out of a movie, both of you went over the edge simultaneously. It was intense, cumming while being fucked. You'd never experienced this, and it felt like you were going to melt right into the bed.
He kept going for as long as he could, but eventually he had to stop. You laid there panting, his face against your chest and your hands on his sides.
"Holy fuck," you said after a moment. He chuckled, shaking you and the bed under him.
"Yeah. Holy fuck." You lifted his head and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. "You okay?"
"I'm amazing."
"You really are."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Making my first time memorable."
"I should thank you, too."
"Me? Why?"
"I think that was the best sex I've ever had."
"No shit."
"Shit."
"Well, damn. You're welcome, then."
"You said something about... Every time earlier?"
"You're still inside of me and you're already thinking about doing it again?"
"What, you're not?"
You chuckled, noticing how hot and sweaty both of you were. It was kind of gross, but you didn't care in the moment.
And you knew he made your request come true. You were not going to be able to walk properly for a little while.
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wonderjanga · 2 days ago
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Cults Galore
Cults. If the JL had a nickel for every cult dedicated to Marvel they’ve found, they’d have two nickels. Don’t get them wrong, it’s not a lot, but it’s still concerning.
Aquaman, Green Lantern, and Marvel were sent to an alien planet. They needed to establish peaceful contact with the people there. That was the goal. So why? Why in the Gods’ names are the people here all tatted up with lightning bolts suspiciously similar to Marvel’s. Why are they calling Marvel Thavma? And most importantly, why are the three being lead to some type of shrine?
Hal: “Hey uh… I’m sorry to ask, but what does this shrine you told us about have to do with the treaty you need to sign?”
Alien Leader: “They are sacred grounds.”
Hal: “Okay…?”
Alien Leader: *continued to lead them until they came upon a bunch of people petrified into stone. The people were placed in a circle, in the middle was a grand shrine*
Aquaman: “What’s with all the statues?”
Alien Leader: “Statues- ah yes. The statues.” *looks to Marvel* “We’ve all kept them preserved just for you. Just in case that of off chance you decided to grace us with your presence again. And would you look at that? It paid off.”
Marvel: *awkwardly smiles at the Alien leader*
Alien Leader: *looks back ahead*
Marvel: *elbows Aquaman and starts speak in Atlantean* “This guy’s creepy.”
Aquaman: *responds in Atlantean* “I know.”
Hal: “What’d you guys say?”
Marvel: *switches back to English* “We’ll tell you when we get back to the ship.”
*awkward silence of following the Alien Leader*
Aquaman: “So… The statues. You make em or something?”
Alien Leader: “No no no. They’re all soldiers of the people who used to oppress our kind. They were petrified by our very lord themself during the uprising.” *looks over to Marvel* “Do tell me you remember?”
Marvel: *searches though memories and finds out a previous champion had done all of this* “I do.” *looks literally anywhere but Hal and Arthur*
Hal and Aquaman: *immediately share a look*
Later…
Marvel, Hal, and Arthur: *all at a burger joint eating in civvies*
Arthur: “I don’t get it. How do you just fail to mention that you petrified an entire army?”
Marvel: *shrugs* “I kinda forgot.”
Hal: “How do you just forget that? Also, you guys never told me about what you guys were saying. Are you guys gonna spill the beans now or what?”
Marvel: “What are you talking about?”
Hal: “When you elbowed Arthur?”
Marvel: “Ohhhh that.”
Arthur: “We were just talking about how the guy was creepy.”
Hal: *nods head* “True dat. True dat.”
Then there was the second cult. This one’s human though, don’t worry. This cult was found by Marvel, Batman and Robin.
Marvel: “I thought you just said this was just a cult. Not a cult for me.” *looking around at the various tapestries with his lightning bolt symbol*
Robin!Damian: “What makes you think it’s for you?”
Marvel: *gestures to the lightning bolt on his chest, then to the other lightning bolts on the decor of the place*
Batman: “They were worshiping someone named Keraunos.”
Robin!Damian: “And unless your name is Keraunos, it’s not for you.”
Marvel: “I’ll have you know it’s actually one of my names.” *walks until he stops in front of a fountain*
Robin: “You can’t be serious. Why would they worship you of all people? There’s hardly anything of value to worship in the first place.” *follows after him and stops near the fountain too*
Marvel: “Should I be offended by that?” *looks down at the water* “Geez, were they drinking electricity charged water? Normal humans cannot do that.”
Batman: *also walks over and kneels down slightly to read a plaque* “This plaque says the water was blessed by you.”
Marvel: “Uuuhhhh… No it isn’t.” *sticks a finger into the water* “This is just normal electricity.”
Robin: *tries to stick his own finger in*
Batman: *swats Damian’s hand away* “Regardless, what’s causing the electricity?”
Marvel: *puts some of his own lightning into the water*
Batman, Robin, Marvel: *hear something short fuse and look to see something off to the side smoking*
Marvel: “Probably that.”
382 notes · View notes
theemporium · 1 day ago
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[4.4k] upon meeting their captain's new girlfriend, some of the devils are convinced there is something supernatural about her. others aren't. jack deems it his job to prove it.
[find other fright night specials here]
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“She is hiding something.”
Jonas watched the way Jack slumped onto the couch, wiggling his way between himself and Timo. He also watched the way Timo took a long sip from his beer, pretending like he hadn’t heard what Jack just said despite the boy staring at him expectantly. 
“Who’s hiding something?” Jonas asked, despite knowing he would regret even opening his mouth. Which was confirmed even more when Jack’s head snapped around, a glint in his eyes that made Jonas a little uncomfortable.
“Cap’s new girl.” 
Jonas blinked before raising brows. “You mean the girl we just met for the first time half an hour ago?” 
“Yes, her,” Jack confirmed with a nod, frowning. “Geez, you think Nico would two time someone? God, Siegs, he’s a Capricorn, not a monster.” 
Jonas’ nose scrunched. “I have not drunk enough for you to start talking nonsense. Where’s Luke, I need a translator.”
Jack jabbed his side with his obscenely pointy elbows in response.
“Ouch,” Jonas hissed. 
“But I’m telling you,” Jack insisted, leaning back against the couch. “She’s weird.” 
“Dude,” Dawson muttered from the armchair beside them. “Not cool.” 
“You literally don’t know her,” Jonas pointed out. “And you’re also the last person to call someone weird.”
“Not like bad weird,” Jack huffed. “Just…suspicious weird.” 
Timo groaned. “Someone make him stop.”
“Suspicious weird?” Nate repeated, his brows raised like he was thoroughly amused by the whole conversation. “Suspicious how?” 
Jack lifted his chin. “Suspicious in the supernatural way.” 
Nate let out a boisterous laugh in response.
“Jack,” Jonas sighed deeply, pressing his fingers against his temples like it would rid him of the thumping pain that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the boy next to him. “What in loving fuck are you talking about?”
“Ignore him,” Luke piped up as he appeared from thin air, moving around the gangle of stretched out legs before settling down on the armrest of Dawson’s armchair. “He’s been watching loads of Vampire Diaries right now. He is delusional.” 
“It’s a seasonal show,” Jack grumbled.
“It’s giving you stupid ideas,” Timo retorted. “What, you think Cap is shacking it up with some vampire chick?”
“Well, nobody said vampire. I haven’t narrowed it down yet. Feels rude to assume, you know?” Jack said. “But she’s something.”
“She’s Nico’s girlfriend,” Jonas stated bluntly. “And this is probably why he waited so long to introduce her to us. Because you’re insane.”
“Or because she knows we will find out what she’s hiding,” Jack insisted, his eyes narrowed at the scene across the room. 
Jonas turned his head to catch a glimpse of what Jack was looking at, just to find Nico tucked away in the corner of the room with one arm around you. He kept you plastered to his side, a fond smile on his lips and a look of pure adoration in his eyes as he listened to you whisper something to him. It was a sweet sight, and very lacking in the supernatural aspect. 
“On the very slim chance she is,” Nate started. 
Jonas groaned. “Don’t encourage him.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” Nate finished, his eyes fixed on Jack’s pondering expression.
“Well,” Jack shrugged. “I’m his A. I gotta make sure he’s safe.” 
“He’s a big boy, he can handle himself,” Timo waved him off.
“Not if she’s a siren. I’ve seen what those things can do—”
“In a TV show made over a decade ago.”
“Shut up, Luke.”
All in all, no one had given much thought into Jack’s insane theory. 
Over the course of the next few weeks, there had been a few more interactions between you and the team but Jonas had assumed Jack had realised how delusional he was being and dropped it. That was his mistake for thinking Jack was anything close to self aware. But in Jonas’ humble opinion, every interaction with you had been completely normal and completely human.
And Jack had seemed to think so too until the Devils Family Skate Day came up. 
“Big day, huh?” Nate teased as he walked into the locker room, giving Nico a playful nudge as he walked past his stall. 
Nico lifted his head, brows furrowing together a little but he smiled nonetheless. “I mean, yeah, I guess.” 
Nate raised his brows. “Wow, Cap, pretty sure you are meant to be a bit more hyped about your girl meeting your family for the first time. Your folks flew over, didn’t they?” 
“Well, yeah,” Nico smiled but shrugged his shoulders. “But uh, they aren’t meeting her today.” 
Jonas paused what he was doing, somewhat surprised. “She isn’t coming today?”
Nico shook his head but Jack opened his mouth before he could say anything. 
“What? How come? I thought you two were serious now,” Jack questioned, a weird glint in his eyes that Jonas didn’t like the look of at all. “You know, she hasn’t been to any games either, has she? Is she not a hockey fan?” 
“Stop interrogating,” Jonas grumbled. 
“No, she is but,” Nico paused, waving his hand like the motion meant something. “She’s not feeling great today so she is staying home.” 
“She’s sick?” Jack asked. 
“Probably Nico’s cooking,” Timo snorted.  
“She just feels a bit…uh, what’s the word…sensitive?” Nico answered, his brows furrowed together like he was thinking hard about his response. “She’ll be better for the dinner at Pally’s house though, don’t worry.” 
Jack’s face lit up. “The dinner at Pally’s?” 
Nico shot him a weird look. “Yes, Jack, the one you know about too because you’re in the group chat.”
Jack didn’t seem fazed. “The one on Thursday?” 
“Yes?” 
“Thursday night?”
“Is there a joke I’m missing?” Nico retorted but nodded. “Yes, the one on Thursday night. It’s nothing contagious, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not,” Jack responded, absolutely gleeful. 
But Nico decided not to question it further—because he was a smart man—and instead continued to gear up before he made his way out onto the ice, stepping up as captain to be the first one on the ice for the cameras.
It took less than thirty seconds after Nico walked out before Jack broke.
“I fucking knew it!” 
Heads turned in the locker room, a mix of confused and baffled faces staring at the boy but it was Jonas who sighed deeply and took one for the team, instead of ignoring Jack like his conscience was telling him to do. 
“Knew what?” 
“She’s a vampire!” 
Jonas blinked. “Excuse me?” 
“Cap’s girl!” Jack insisted, almost giddy in his seat. “She’s a vampire!”
“I thought you didn’t want to make any assumptions,” Jonas deadpanned. 
“Well, I’ve assumed now and my assumption is right,” Jack replied, a little snotty when he did. “She’s a vampire. It’s so obvious.”
“I am gonna regret asking this but,” Jonas paused, taking a deep breath like he was preparing himself. “How is it obvious?” 
Jack shot him a look. “Dude.”
Jonas raised his brows in response. 
“We never see her during the day,” Jack stated, as if that made his way of thinking any clearer to Jonas. 
“Oh shit,” Nate murmured, nodding. “Hughesy has a point.”
“No, he does not. Stop encouraging this,” Jonas sighed before turning back to Jack. “What the fuck are you on about?” 
“How many times have we met her?” Jack questioned, that odd glint in his eyes shining brighter than before. It was very disconcerting. 
“Uh, like five?” 
“Uh huh,” Jack nodded, grinning. “And what’s the common denominator with each of those meetings?” 
Jonas didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “You know what denominator means?” 
“Shut up and answer the question.” 
Jonas huffed. “I don’t know, you were watching her like a creep?” 
“Observing in the name of science,” Jack corrected before leaning over to smack Jonas’ arm. “Dude, we only ever saw her at night. We have never met her during the day. Nico has only brought her for dinners.” 
Jonas blinked. “So that makes her a vampire?” 
“Nico said so himself!” Jack exclaimed. “He said she was feeling sensitive!” 
“You feel sensitive after one rum and coke,” Nate countered. 
“Low blow, Bas.” 
“This is ridiculous,” Jonas grumbled, shifting his attention back to lacing his skates and getting the rest of his gear on before one of the media staff came in to yell at them, “She isn’t a vampire, Jack. Drop it.”
“I’m gonna prove it.”
“Please don’t.”
“Just wait and see, Siegs.”
Jack’s first attempt at proving that his assumption was correct actually happened at Pally’s dinner that Thursday. 
It was a laidback get-together, something to keep team morale high with not as much effort, considering hitting restaurants around Jersey wouldn’t be the most relaxing or lowkey environment most of the team desired on their off days. Every once in a while, one of the older guys with the bigger houses offered their place up and everyone brought something for the table. 
Jonas made the mistake of assuming Luke would keep his older brother in line. 
Because Luke did not, in fact, keep his brother in line. If anything, half of the team were encouraging his snooping and theorising. Well, mostly Nate who kept sending Jack bullshit articles that Jonas was pretty sure were just Twilight fan websites. 
“Ready to eat dirt?”
Jonas frowned. “Don’t tell me that’s what you brought with you, Pally’s kids are eating with us.” 
“I—” Jack sighed, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t bring dirt, Jonas. It’s an expression. I’m asking if you are ready to accept that you are wrong.”
“Is this about the vampire thing?” Jonas questioned.
“Glad to know you think there are multiple options of things I can prove you wrong on,” Jack retorted, grinning boyishly. “Listen, this is foolproof. Trust me.”
Jonas did not trust him a single bit. 
He also made the mistake of taking his eyes off Jack for longer than thirty seconds—to have a very nice conversation with Pally’s wife about the lasagna dish she made—when he realised the boy was heading straight towards where you and Nico were sitting on one of the couches in the living room. 
“Oh fuck,” Jonas muttered, his feet already moving in that direction.
“You guys have to try this, it’s my mother’s recipe,” Jack announced as soon as he was in front of you both, extending the plate towards you and ripping the foil off the plate. 
Nico blinked. “Garlic bread?” 
“Yup,” Jack answered happily, popping the ‘p’ a little more because he was obnoxious like that.
“It looks like garlic bread from the store,” Jonas commented, standing by Jack’s side with his hand on his elbow, like he was ready to yank the boy away.
“Rude,” Jack sniffled. “It’s been passed down in my family for years.” 
Somewhere from the other couch, Luke snorted loudly. 
“Try a bit,” Jack insisted, pushing the plate closer towards you. “It’ll taste great with the lasagna. Promise.” 
You looked at the plate of garlic bread with weary eyes before flashing an apologetic smile. “I’ll have to pass this time round, sorry.” 
Jack downright beamed in response. “Is that so?” 
“Don’t want to eat anything too heavy,” you explained, lifting your plate to show the few appetisers you had nibbled on. “You’ll have to bring it to the next dinner though, it smells great.” 
“I am sure it does,” Jack grinned, not getting a chance to say much more before Jonas took pity on himself and Nico’s discombobulated face, dragging the younger boy away from everyone else. 
“Garlic? Really?” Jonas deadpanned once they were far enough away.
“Two-zero, team vampire,” Jack said smugly, picking up a piece of garlic bread and taking a large bite from it. “Just admit I’m right.”
“You need help.” 
The next attempt happened a week later. 
You had finally managed to make it to a game—a late game, much to Jack’s delight—and the excitement was clear on Nico’s face. Along with the hint of nerves. But the boys were more focused on the shock of seeing Nico walking into the locker room in a fucking turtleneck. 
“What?”
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Jesper managed to ask, considering the rest of the guys were staring at their captain like he had grown another head.
“It’s stylish,” Nico huffed, rolling his eyes as he ran his fingers along the collar of his turtleneck. “Thought I’d switch it up from the shirt and ties.” 
Timo raised his brows in amusement. “Did your missus get it for you?” 
“Why does that matter? I wanted to wear it,” Nico retorted.
Jack smacked Jonas’ thigh to gain his attention. “Aha!” 
Jonas turned his head. “Aha?” 
“Aha!” Jack repeated, keeping his voice low as he watched Nico from the other side of the locker room. “You know why he’s really wearing it, right?” 
“Because he is whipped?” Nate supplied from the other stall beside Jonas.
“Well, maybe,” Jack murmured, shrugging his shoulders. “Or maybe because he is hiding something.” 
“You need to get a hobby,” Jonas grumbled. 
“Like what?” Nate questioned.
“A bite mark,” Jack whispered with wide eyes.
“Shit, you think she’s making Cap one of her own?” Nate murmured, letting out a breath of disbelief. 
“Or she is feeding from him,” Jack added.
“You both need to get a hobby,” Jonas decided, shoving both of them back to get ready for warmups. 
For what it’s worth, none of them manage to catch a proper glimpse of Nico’s neck before they leave the locker room or even after the game.
During a small break between games where the boys were in Jersey for longer than three days, Nico had invited the whole team over for a housewarming party in his new place—the one he was sharing with you.
Jonas had mostly forgotten about the vampire nonsense because Jack hadn’t brought it up in the last few weeks, most of the boys far more focused on the games as they approached the end of the year. They wanted the best chances running into the new year and into playoffs, they wanted to utilise these games whilst their bodies didn’t feel too wrecked and tired. 
It was his own mistake for assuming the season would preoccupy the boy enough to forget it completely.
“Just a heads up, you should probably babysit Jack tonight.”
Jonas’ shoulders tensed slightly as he turned to look at Dawson with a frown. “Why? What is he planning?”
Dawson just flashed him a sheepish smile, shrugging before he quickly went to hide in the corner where Luke and Simon were sitting. 
Jonas let out a deep sigh, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling like some higher being would explain how in loving fuck he managed to be the one to babysit Jack’s vampire shenanigans before he pushed himself off the couch he was sitting on. He gripped the beer bottle in his hand, wondering if it would be worth grabbing another bottle before he started his hunt.
All things considered, it didn’t take long to find Jack considering the apartment itself wasn’t very big. For a second, Jonas thought maybe Dawson was trying to wind him up (it would not be the first time Luke had put the boy up to it). Until he saw Jack thrusting a gift bag towards you.
“Here we go,” Jonas grumbled.
“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you said with a smile, looking so genuinely surprised and touched by Jack’s thoughtfulness.
“It’s just a little something,” Jack shrugged. “Living with a hockey player and all that sweaty gear can be gross sometimes, I thought a candle would be something acceptable and useful.”
Jonas frowned at his wording.
“Oh,” you let out a noise of surprise as you pulled the candle from the bag, blinking a few times too many. “That’s really sweet of you. I’ll just go put this somewhere for safekeeping.”
“Nonsense!” Jack grinned as he reached into the bag, pulling out a box of matches. “We can light it now.”
You let out a slightly nervous laugh. “There’s really no need—” 
“Plus there’s a high chance someone will set their clothes on fire if we have an open flame,” Jonas jumped in, pausing for a moment before he frowned. “Again.”
“You could barely notice,” Jack scoffed.
“Jesper had no pants for the rest of the night,” Jonas retorted before flashing you a smile. “You should probably hide the matches too.”
“On it,” you said with a smile, rushing out the room like you couldn’t leave fast enough.
Jonas shifted his attention to the younger boy. “Really?”
“Vampires hate fire,” Jack explained with a casual shrug. “She’s just proving that I’m right.” 
“You are proving shit,” Jonas grumbled in response, shaking his head. “Stop scaring the poor girl before she gets a restraining order on you.”
“You know I’m right!” 
“I literally can’t think of something I disagree with more.” 
Jack Hughes was determined to prove that his captain was dating a vampire. 
He wasn’t like…anti-supernatural or anything like that. He just couldn’t quite seem to understand how some of his other teammates (or well, mostly Jonas) couldn’t see the obvious signs. He didn’t understand how those signs could be so easily ignored. 
Jack wasn’t against vampires by any means, but he watched enough movies and shows to know that not all of them were friendly. He just wanted to make sure you were one of the good ones. Surely, Jonas could see that. 
But instead, Jack found himself trying to prove you were a vampire to Jonas rather than figure out if you were one of the good ones.
In Jack’s humble opinion, the daylight coincidences, the garlic bread situation, the turtleneck fiasco and the candle incident were more than enough to prove his point. There were too many instances where the clues pointed to the obvious for Jack to ignore. 
Jonas seemed to think otherwise. 
And if he was being honest, Jack was tired of the constant doubt. If Jonas wanted proof, then Jack was going to give him proof he couldn’t deny with one of the most well-known facts about vampires. 
They do not show up in photographs. 
It was an old legend, possibly a myth, but one that Jack was banking on being true just to shove it in Jonas’ face—for purely selfish reasons. He had even gone as far as buying an old polaroid camera, gripping the device in his hands as he wandered around Curtis’ house, hoping to find the couple for a quick photo. 
It was New Years, the house was full of people Jack both knew and had never met before in his life and he was thoroughly buzzed from the countless glasses of champagne that had been shoved in his hands since he walked through the door. 
So obviously he was in the perfect condition to expose a vampire. 
Jack stumbled his way up the stairs, muttering a soft ‘fuck’ under his breath when he almost dropped the camera. The music was a little more muffled upstairs, the party a distant thought as he began walking around in hopes of finding you and Nico. 
He was passing by one of the guest rooms when he heard muffled voices and quickly skidded to a stop. He pressed his ear against the door, only to pause when he saw it was slightly ajar. And against his better judgement, he found himself peaking through the small crack. 
Nico was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head hanging as he seemed far more interested in the carpet than anything else. You were stood between his legs, your lips turned downwards as you let out a sigh. 
“C’mon, say it again.” 
“I don’t wanna.” 
“Nico,” you said in a pointed voice, running your hands through his hair before tugging his head back. You tilted your head, watching him closely before he spoke. “Say it again.” 
“I’m your boyfriend and you love me,” Nico murmured.
You raised your brows. “Say it like you mean it.”
Nico huffed out a small laugh but his eyes didn’t look away from you. “I’m your boyfriend and you love me.”
“Atta boy,” you grinned in response. 
However, the moment was ruined by the sound of Jack dropping the camera. Both of your heads snapped around and Jack’s feet didn’t seem to catch the memo to move before he landed flat on his ass, surrounded by pieces of his camera that were completely shattered. 
“Jack?”
Jack let out a shriek, lifting his hands over his head whilst the words tumbled past his drunken lips before he could stop himself. “Please don’t suck my blood!” 
You stood in the doorway, staring at the boy with a confused frown. “What?” 
“I’m sorry! I didn’t see you compel him! Don’t eat me!” Jack continued to ramble, his eyes clenched shut like he was waiting for a hit he knew was already coming, like he was prepared for it.
Nico shifted to stand behind you, also frowning down at Jack. “Compel what?” 
Jack slowly blinked his eyes open to find you both staring down at him with mixed expressions of amusement and concern. He gulped, his logic and common sense thrown out the window in his inebriated state. 
“Uh, her,” Jack stated dumbly as he glanced at you. “She compelled you.”
You blinked. “I what?” 
“Because you’re a vampire,” Jack said, a little bolder than before. 
Your lips parted. “I’m a what?” 
“Jack,” Nico sighed, all captainy and authoritative in a way that made Jack squirm a little in his seat, like he disappointed someone he shouldn’t have. “Why would you think my girlfriend is a vampire?” 
“Because it was obvious!” Jack insisted, scrambling to finally stand up—with the help of Nico reaching out to balance him when he began to sway. 
Nico, who now looked more amused than disappointed, only raised his brows in response. “And how was it obvious?” 
“We never saw her during the day!” Jack blurted out. “It was always at dinners or other night events. Never during the day.”
“Jack,” you said in a soft voice. “I work during the day. I don’t get off until six, and that’s on early days.” 
“Oh,” Jack murmured with a frown. “What about the garlic?”
“You mean the day you tried to shove store bought garlic bread in our faces?” Nico mused, shaking his head. “I told you she wasn’t feeling well. The garlic bread was too heavy, it would’ve upset her stomach.”
“And I’d rather not puke all over my boyfriend’s teammate’s house the first time I’m invited,” you added with a snort.
“The turtleneck?” Jack questioned.
“Like I said, a fashion choice,” Nico huffed, but his cheeks burned a little as he quickly pressed a kiss to your forehead. “And I loved the turtleneck, baby. One of my favourite outfits.”
You snorted in response. 
“What about the candle?” Jack insisted, his brows furrowing together. “You were so against me lighting it!” 
“Because I’m just sensitive to most smells,” you explained with a sheepish smile. “Most candles give me a headache but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings because it was very thoughtful.”
“Oh,” Jack repeated, feeling stupid for what felt like the millionth time in the last few minutes.
“It’s sweet that you were so concerned about Nico dating a vampire that you did all of this,” you added, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze. “Even if you did just wreck your camera.” 
“Don’t worry about it,” Jack murmured, his cheeks burning hot and pink. 
“Anything else you wanna get off your chest?” Nico questioned, watching as the boy blushed even more—if that was even possible.
“Maybe don’t mention this to Jonas?” 
Nico’s lips twitched. “My lips are sealed.” 
“Okay, good,” Jack nodded, swallowing harshly. “Now, if you excuse me, I need to go either sober up or get even more drunk.” 
You snorted in response.
“Sorry once again,” Jack added with a sheepish smile.
You waved him off. “Water under the bridge, Hughes.” 
This was definitely something Jonas would never let him forget when he found out.
“Be honest: was that your attempt of causing a distraction so I would forget why we came up here?” 
Nico couldn’t help but let out a laugh as he turned his head to look at you, smiling fondly when he found you already grinning back at him. He shook his head, winding his arms around your waist to tug you closer once he was sure Jack had disappeared back downstairs where the party was.
“You think I had anything to do with that?” Nico teased. “Please, I would know better.”
Your nose scrunched up a little. “I mean, a vampire? Come on!” 
“You would make the cutest vampire ever,” Nico said, laughing when you pinched his hip in retaliation. “Kidding, baby, I would never think you were one of those bloodsuckers.” 
“Damn right,” you huffed before your gaze softened. “Seriously though, before all the Jack stuff, you know it’s true, right? I love you and nothing will change that.” 
“Even your parents prefer your ex-boyfriend over a ‘measly human’?” Nico questioned, trying and failing to keep his voice lighthearted and playful as he repeated your parents’ hurtful words.
“Nico, baby,” you lifted your hands to cup his face, your voice honest and genuine as you spoke. “You’re it for me. I don’t care what anyone says, whether it's my parents being disapproving of me dating a human or your teammates thinking I’m a vampire. I want to be with you, no matter what. It’s you and me, Hischier.” 
Nico didn’t even bother to bite back the grin taking over his face as he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours and letting the tension slip away from his shoulders. “You and me,” he murmured between kisses. 
“Even if I was a bloodsucker?” You teased, something in your chest tightening at the way he smiled against your lips.
“Even then,” Nico mused before pulling away, a completely fond expression on his face. “Lucky for me, my girlfriend is way too pretty to be a bloodsucker.” 
You raised your brows. “Buttering me up, Hishcier?” 
“Just stating the truth,” Nico shrugged, still smiling down at you. “I always thought the werewolves were way cooler when Jack made me watch Twilight.” 
You snorted, shaking your head. “I’m much cooler than those wolves.” 
“Much cuter too,” Nico added, pressing his lips to the crown of your head and beaming when your eyes flashed yellow in response, something like a pleased purr leaving your lips when he pulled you closer.
.
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musicallisto · 2 days ago
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· · · · ♡ IF (SAINZ WIN == TRUE) (cs55)
… starring carlos sainz x f!engineer!reader ... 4.4k words ... in which carlos is an effusive, self-assured lad to every member of his team... except ferrari's head software engineer, making her wonder if he secretly hates her guts. ... based on this request ... warnings for language (minor) ... my first ever (posted) fic for carlos aaaaa (i have written A Lot More about this man because he occupies my every waking hour, but i shan't share it yet). in honor of me missing my communication networks final last week i made the reader a software engineer, but you would Never catch me willingly coding anything in c++ outside of my mandated assignments. no not even for carlos sainz jr. i have morals. this is open for part 2 if you guys enjoy it <3
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He speaks the language of princes.
It's not in anything he says, no, he's much too industrious to waste time boasting, but rather in all that he doesn't. Carlos walks into the Ferrari motorhome, with that good-natured smile and that slightly disheveled hair from the morning's cycling session, and heads bow. Not out of plight, or even obligation, but mostly because it's hard not to. His warm greetings to everyone—Ciao's and even Come stai?'s to his team members strolling down the hallways before the weekend—, his keen interest in remembering little things about engineers' and photographers' lives, his nonchalant stride around the parc fermé all force camaraderie at least; reverence to most.
Wherever the red car goes, Maranello or any other corner of the world, religion follows, and though Carlos Sainz has never quite fit into the nooks they keep for their idols—their walls are carved for Monégasque shoulders—, he's at least always carried the air of a rebel leader on unforgving land.
But if Carlos is Ferrari's bastard prince, then clearly you are a subject he would not go to war for.
Or so he makes you think, once again, on that hot Singaporean afternoon.
You hadn't meant to interrupt, really, but with only one hour to go before FP1, you needed to talk to Riccardo Adami; something about the software updates, optimization of the data acquisition systems to account for Marina Bay's sweltering heat—run for half a second too long, overheat half a degree too much, and everyone's calculations would be going to hell. So of course you'd corrected it, supervised a brand new version of your code for the weekend, for that tenth of a Celsius; competition drove you. Almost just as much as those solar eyes boring into you when you walk into the room.
"Riccardo, about the softw—oh. Carlos. Hi," you timidly trail off when Carlos' eyes meet yours.
The room gets quiet, and it is only then that you notice how much space his laugh takes. Usually, you would've recognized the accent from outside the door, the boisterous voice regaling the Fifty-fives with another funny story—how could you not, when it sends shockwaves down your stomach? He seems to have been in an animated conversation with his race engineer, but as you get closer to the two men you notice the crinkles lengthening Carlos' eyes are fading with his smile. You aren't sure he's even said hi back.
"We've changed the code for acquisition, but some loops could still cause problems with overheating, particularly the engine oil temperature sensors…" you explain, though half your attention is directed to your peripheral vision, in which Carlos sways on his two feet, averting your gaze at all costs.
But you're not a college girl with a crush, you're Scuderia Ferrari's head software engineer and so you go on with your precisions to Riccardo. What to expect during free practice, how to overshoot any nonessential sensors that might fuck up the data analysis... until, mid-sentence, Carlos excuses himself awkwardly, pats Ricky on the shoulder, and walks out of the room.
You will your face into not betraying the sudden ache in your throat. How he simply acted like you weren't there... didn't even inquire about the updates. About the race. About your flight, about how much you loved Singapore's twinkling lights, about... you.
"Xavi and Charles know this already, but we really gotta test it all now before it gets cooler for FP2," you conclude with a too-hard swallow. Back firmly turned to the door Carlos just disappeared out of.
Riccardo thanks you, offers his own insight, some banalities about the risks of rain—no, you shouldn't consider them banalities. Nothing, on a Friday, is a banality anymore; yet everything is when you remember how Carlos' entire face shuts close when you're around, how his tone quietens down, how he repeatedly and stubbornly conceals all his rays of brazenness from you.
Does he hate you? Despise you? Are you not worth his effrontery?
This is ridiculous. You're not a college girl with a crush, you're a damn senior member of the team with responsibilities and he doesn't owe you anything more or less than you him—
"Riccardo," you neither ask nor plead. "Has Carlos... said anything about me?"
"About you? Like what?"
"I don't know... but you did see he just... left while I was in the middle of talking, right? And he looked annoyed as soon as I came in." And for all that's holy, try to pass this off as mere politeness and not a heartache that is eating you alive.
"Maybe he was just bored."
"So I'm boring?"
"No," Riccardo wheezes, in uncharacteristically high spirits for the conversation. "But I've worked with a ton of drivers, and you know, they're all the same. Less time discussing boring analytics is more time they spend in the sim. Or on track. What, you think he's angry at you or something?"
"I just... don't get why he's always so guarded and distant with me but so outgoing and confident with you guys. Charles isn't like that either. It makes no sense. We're a team, all of us."
The Italian looks at you for long seconds, amusement noticeable on his features, and you would shake him up and tell him to stop giving you those pity eyes if you lacked the tiniest bit of respect for the man; instead, you frown and cross your arms.
"He'll be in a good mood tonight when we top free practice," Riccardo assures you before you can ask him if he needs anything else. "and even better tomorrow after getting pole. You can talk to him then if you want."
A smile creeps its way on your lips without you conjuring it. There it is, that loyal veneration that only men and women of the Scuderia possess. Something in those southern eyes Carlos shares with legend has made you religious, too.
"I'll hold you to that... we could all use a Singapore miracle."
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Singapore is a miracle.
Surely any other team would scoff at the word, bragging that a pole position has nothing to do with miracles, that it's all meticulous teamwork and endless iterations on calculators, but Ferrari is deeply supersitious at its core. You—the centenarian team, its red-hot beating heart—don't shy away from thanking divine intervention. Maybe that's the reason why it still works.
After Carlos' last pole in Monza, the whole Scuderia had dared to dream of something different, a glimmer of scarlet in the season's overwhelming orange. Of course, an uncatchable Max had put a dampen on the fervent Tifosi's mood, but the formidable hope machine had revved back to life...
and now it's roaring in Marina Bay.
Leclerc's side of the garage claps for a hard-earned P3, but it's the Spaniard's team that erupts into cheers and rushes out into the pitlane to congratulate their hero. You stare at his lap time on your monitor with a grin—1:30.984, not even a tenth faster than his teammate—as cheerful screams, in Italian and Spanish, fill the garage; they get louder when Carlos walks back inside, grinning ear to ear and not even bothering to dodge the strong-arm pats on his head and back.
"Twice in a row, cazzo!"
"And this time you won't have Verstappen underfoot!"
"Perfect lap, Carlos, that was a perfect lap..."
"Grazie a tutti," Carlos beams, fire suit down to his waist, running clammy hands through his hair—he parts the red sea as he walks deeper into the garage, close to where you are. "I think we all did a very good job today, and now we gotta finish the job tomorrow..."
He laughs with the mechanics, a sun of fire and victory casting its rays onto the tarmac, and maybe it's the euphoria of the moment, but a sudden wind of courage rushes through your blood, and you walk up to him.
"Bravo, Carlos."
Your voice hits him like the purr of an engine in the ruckus, overshadowing any other sound; he whips his head in your direction, shiny eyes colliding with yours, and for the first time you don't back off but hold them in awe, and his smile doesn't fade, but rather shifts. To surprise, or... coyness?
"You were incredible out there, we're all so so proud of you," you praise, and the more you look at him the wider your smile grows, and the quieter the rest of the world gets.
"Thank you, Y/N," he rubs the back of his neck, his free hand fiddling with the hanging sleeves of his fire suit. "We... I couldn't have done this without you. Because, you know, the overheating, or what you were saying to Ricky before? I didn't understand everything, but at least I didn't cook to death."
Coyness? In Carlos Sainz? When he's still sweaty and panting from qualifying first? What a bizarre sight, one that makes you giggle.
The way your nose scrunches up beneath sparkling eyes is so endearing, Carlos almost feels his breath hitch in his throat, almost reaches out to lightly brush your arm, hold the steady coolness of it.
"Great, that was what we were going for, pretty much," you reply, and for a second you could've sworn he wanted to touch your arm and changed his mind, but...
you bury the idea before a craving for his warmth can nestle in your chest.
"Great," he repeats. "So, I'll... see you later," and with that he leaves you there, stranded in the middle of the garage, to be lauded by the press and fans.
You'd be lying if you said his shadow disappearing out the backdoor as quickly as it had come doesn't slice a gash in your heart—always whisked away to some important obligation, and you, like everyone else, duty-bound to pick up the pieces behind him. But this time around the cut doesn't run as deep, doesn't bleed as red; because for the first time in months Carlos talked to you, joked with you, and looked the tiniest bit glad to be doing so.
If that's how good of a mood a pole puts him in... then clearly you'd better make damn sure he wins this race.
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Ferrari is deeply superstitious at its core. Maybe that much is true in any sport—when victory eludes you, athletes find obscure laws to trick themselves into believing they still retain control—, but a team so old, on which glory has rained so often, does not withstand the passage of time without a few pillars of faith. And so it makes sense that Ferrari drivers, of all people, would have their pre-race traditions.
Leclerc plays the piano on Saturday nights; you hear him every time you pass by the team hotel's lounge, his melancholy tracks grounding you in a precise time and place. Now the car is out of bounds, the comfort of your object-oriented programming and optimized lines of code off-limits; now's the time for withdrawal and rest.
Typically, you like to hang out in the lounge while Charles plays, trying to distract yourself with a book or simply basking in the music. The predictable, calculated flow of Charles' arpeggios soothes you, like lines of code running one after the other. So does the Monégasque driver's easy conversation. Although it doesn't shoot butterflies in your belly like Carlos' does... but you're not supposed to play favorites.
This Grand Prix eve is just like any other, save for the unordinary trepidation that carpets the hotel. With one of their own sitting on pole, it's obvious strategists struggle more than usual to drop the words "tire management" and "pit stops". Eager to escape the nervousness, you excuse yourself from the dinner table, and make your way to the lounge.
Charles is already there, if the usual pieces echoing in the distance at dessert are any indication, and you barely even get lost in the elegant halls before you find the lounge... though there is no piano to be heard. Maybe this hotel has two music rooms—maybe Charles went to bed early—or maybe...
maybe he's sitting on the piano stool and chatting with Carlos, wet and sleepy from his evening shower.
Neither driver notices you at first, and you stop dead in your tracks, wondering if you should just leave. You wouldn't want to intrude—intrude on what, the rational part of your brain says, but with Carlos I always feel like I'm intruding on something bigger than myself, the rest of your body answers—, but you really enjoy this unspoken tradition with Charles... and, well, this is everybody's lounge, and...
"Y/N," Charles sees you eventually and beckons you over. "Sorry, I don't think there'll be a lot of music tonight, Carlos is distracting me."
"You could kick me out anytime," Carlos remarks good-naturedly, but you don't miss how he angles his body away from you ever so slightly. The sight sends a dagger through your heart. So he actually hates you then. So you didn't breach any barrier earlier at the circuit, didn't melt any ice. So he didn't look pleased and a little excited to be talking to you.
"That's okay, I'll just head to bed then—"
"Oh no no no," Charles interrupts, "come sit with us. I was trying to convince Carlos to give the piano a go, maybe you'll be more successful than me."
"Absolutely not, mate."
"Come on Carlos, it will relax you!"
"No, you're the musician, not me. One of us has to be the sportsman, no?"
Unsure, you flick between the two men, Charles' inviting face and Carlos, who's still doing everything he can to avoid looking at you in the eye. And then you decide—fuck it. You're just as much a member of the team as he is. He cannot drive you away with his... stupid cold shoulder tactics any longer.
You take a seat on the sofa opposite Carlos, and watch in half delight, half annoyance as he turns his shoulders away from you. Though his body language appears relaxed, one leg strewn across his knee and elbows hugging the backrest, he is, as usual, going to hell and beyond to not acknowledge your presence.
Charles has the merit of lightening the mood with his jokes and fan encounters of the day: some bizarre, some endearing, because he seemingly never has a boring day in the paddock. His easy laughter mixes with the distant voices down the halls when your attention drops—too fast, too soon, as always, it's irremediable—to Carlos, the soothing scent of his shampoo and the little droplets that run down his temple whenever he shakes his head in amusement... before you know it, you're staring again, eyes shining with undisclosed heartache. Something Charles sees, and recognizes very well, with a jot of curiosity.
Charles may not be the most perceptive when it comes to these things, but he is in love too, and he'd know the signs anywhere. That's why after a little while he lets silence blow his last words away like wind does the mist, and stands up from the piano stool.
"Well, I'm going to bed," he announces with an air of conniving finality, and he smiles his crooked smile at Carlos. "Gonna need all my energy to take the lead in turn 1."
This snaps you out of your reverie. Half-gone, you bid him goodnight at the same time as the Spaniard does, and you brace yourself for his own excuse... but it doesn't come. Carlos lazily watches as Charles leaves the lounge. You don't dare to move, as if your slightest sound could remind him you're there and trigger his fight.
You would've thought a tête-à-tête with you to be Carlos' worst nightmare... but he makes no sign of leaving. And sends solar flares up your chest and throat. "Whatever problem he's got with me, he'll have it sort it out with me like an adult" sounds much more intimidating when it's so plausible.
"You think he has the slightest chance of overtaking me in turn 1?" Carlos chuckles.
You look him straight in the eye and read no resentment, not even that sheepishness from before—just relaxed delight, and the slightest hint of reddened cheeks against tan, damp skin. It takes you a second, maybe even two, to realize there's no one else in the room. He's talking to you. Joking with you.
Why is the script running without error all of a sudden, even though you changed no variables?
"Maybe," you give a noncommittal shrug and a smile. "Why not? It all depends on you."
"He can lead the first lap if he wants. That will just make it more fun to cross the finish line ahead of him after."
"You better win this one, Sainz, because I..." you start, and midway through your sentence are hit by how absolutely ridiculous you're about to sound, but he's leaned in already, intrigued by your words, and his burning gaze and strong hands fiddling in his lap have you losing all notions of propriety. "I've... coded a little something for you. If you win. A surprise. It's not much, but... yeah."
Your whole face burns deep scarlet as you trail off... and the light in Carlos' eyes darkens, then goes out completely. His smile fades back to the usual professional grimace he reserves for you. Distant. Cold. He rises to his feet.
"I should get some sleep."
Terror strikes you. Incomprehension too.
"No, Carlos, wait."
He turns his head to your outstretched hand... your pleading eyes almost rip through his heart.
"Why do you dislike me so much?"
And then his shoulders slump, like crushed by an immense weariness, and he sighs, long and hard, before his gaze falls back to yours. Those big brown eyes, gentle, compassionate, and those fingers tapping against his thigh like they're waiting for an invisible cue to reach out for yours.
"... Can we talk about this after the race?" he says, shooting daggers through your stomach.
So he didn't deny it. Didn't reassure you, tell you it's all a misunderstanding, that he bears no ill will towards you, that you're imagining things as usual and that you two could be on the best of terms if you just got out of your head a little bit.
One more time, he's running away. Sweeping everything under the rug, for just one more session, one more race, hiding behind the excuse of concentration and professionalism.
But who are you to revoke him that? It's a damn good excuse. You need to win. He needs to win. Not be bothered about... interpersonal relationships while clipping walls.
"... Alright," you concede, voice and bones all broken, glistening under your frozen skin. "But if it's something I've done, then I'm sorry. I really do... enjoy your company. And you."
"It's not something you've done," he speaks quietly. Gosh, your frailty in this moment—you, so proud and unshakable on the pit wall, so dedicated and thorough on TV, so immeasurably devoted to Ferrari, to Charles, to him... "Or, well, I guess not directly..."
If he looks into your confused, imploring eyes one more second, almost brushes your arm with his one more time, then he's done for. But he thinks he knows this already.
"I don't dislike you," he starts speaking and as soon as he opens his mouth he knows there's no stopping himself now, so he blurts it all out as quickly as he can to get it over with and hopefully bury some meaning in the pits of his accent. "Not at all. In fact I really like you. I think you're gorgeous, and smart, and clever, and fun, and every day I wish I could spend more time with you outside of races and get to know you better but then I remember that can never happen and it's so frustrating and I have the hardest time concentrating. So I just avoid you. It's easier."
Silence thick as a thundercloud tethers you to one another. He runs a hand over his face, sighing deep, and you blink. Once, twice.
You've always prided yourself on your brains—not everyone gets to be in charge of all the computing for a Formula 1 car—but right now, you are all utterly lost.
"Carlos, I... I don't get it." Or maybe you do, heart thumping in your ears, but you're too scared you might be wrong.
"In any other life I would've asked you out on a date." This time he speaks more slowly, more purposefully, too. Like he's imbuing every syllable with the depth of his confession. "But it kills me that it can't be this one."
"... Why not?" you tentatively ask after an instant, feigning not to notice how his hand is now resting on the back of your sofa, right next to your ear and neck.
"Because you're a senior engineer! That would be like... like dating Ricky. Even if you're much prettier than Ricky. But you don't need to tell him that," he adds with a nervous laugh, which you mirror; though you fall silent as soon as his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, right where your collar ends, millimeters away from your skin. His body's warring with his own words... one wants to resist, the other to give in. "What if I leave Ferrari? That's a crazy conflict of interest."
"That's a silly idea, you're not leaving Ferrari anytime soon. Are you?"
"I don't know, it's... hypothetically... you know what I mean," he exhales in defeat. His hand clasps a little tighter on your shoulder, his scent dizzying, closer than ever before. Can he feel your frantic heart thumping underneath your skin? If he keeps licking his lips like this, will he sense your breathing getting more erratic?
"I do. But... the problem is I like you too, Carlos."
If embers could burn back to life, light a hearth out of nothingness... they wouldn't shine as bright as Carlos' eyes just then.
"Don't mess with me."
"I'm not messing with you. Why wouldn't I like you?"
"Because you're not supposed to have a favorite."
"I won't tell Fred if you don't."
He laughs, a brittle but adorable little thing, like a small bird taking its first flight. If you could hear the sound more often, see that bashful smile on his handsome face more every day... you wouldn't need any other prince to die in war for.
His hand runs down your arm, his thumb lightly caressing your skin through the fabric of your shirt before he grabs your shaky hand in his.
"Now's not the best time, but... I think we've got to have an important conversation after the race tomorrow," his deep, soft tone pacifying you just as much as the abstract shapes he traces on the back of your hand.
"After you win, you mean."
"Right. After I get my surprise, no?"
"After you win," you repeat with a grin, and he squeezes your hand, smiling too. Something, deep down, tells him he'll win regardless of the race result.
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"Cosa diavolo sta facendo?"
Even in spite of the roaring crowd and the bellowing V8s speeding down the straight, the dumbfounded voices around the pit wall come to you clear as day.
"Russell 1.4 behind Lando," Ricky, sitting on the other side of Vasseur, speaks into his headset.
The team principal keeps quiet, eyes fixed on the cascade of numbers and brackets on your screen. He understands before the rest of the wall what his driver is doing; and as you relay all the information you get to the race engineers, you understand it too.
"Lando .8 behind, .8 behind with DRS—Russell no DRS... Copy that."
He's doing it on purpose. Keeping Norris just close enough to shield him from the Mercs while making sure he can't catch up. You'd laugh in triumph and disbelief if you weren't gritting your teeth so damn hard, heart on the verge of exploding as the last laps tick out in a blur.
Just a few more minutes. Just a few more seconds, and the night sky over Marina Bay will explode in crimson lights...
Mechanics spring to their feet and climb the wall to the track, bumping their fists in the air. Cheers, claps, exclamations, a bouquet of red roses swaying in the wind to greet its champion at the finish line. And then, the unmistakable roar of a racecar speeding past the chequered flag at three hundred kilometers an hour. Liberation.
You spring to your feet right as the fireworks go off, yelling to the sky. Carlos won. Carlos won! Your Carlos—in the middle of Red Bull's flawless season...
"¡Vamos Fred! ¡Vamos Ricky!" Flashes of red and gold pass his high spirits by, diligently braking into the first corner.
He laughs, he screams it all out, unclenching all his muscles, woozy from the G's, from the adrenaline, from the win... from you, watching him from the pit wall. From the memory of your skin against his, your adoring eyes and the formidable lightness inside his chest that has him feeling like he's the king of the world.
In a few minutes, he'll be posing with his trophy and the team in front of his P1 plaque for the group photo, and he'll drench you in champagne—your lively laughter will fill his heart with the gold of medals. And later in the evening, before the afterparty, he'll pull you aside and tell you maybe this victory has made him reckless, and he'll kiss you senselessly like a prize he fought for.
For now, though, he's nodding his head at Lando who gave him a congratulatory wave from his car when his on-board screen lights up with an unexpected message. Glowing red letters read, "Great job, smooth operator! 🌶️" Laughter escapes him as small virtual fireworks go off on his screen... and he presses the radio button on his steering wheel.
"Did she have one of these ready for Charles too?"
A few seconds of white noise, and then, your mischievous voice, dripping with joy.
"You know me, Carlos. Never play favorites."
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… f1 taglist; @retvenkos @giuseppe-yuki (want to be added? send me an ask!)
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buck-star · 2 days ago
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Ruined surprises | L.H
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>> You have a surprise for Logan but unfortunately your boyfriend finds out before you can tell him. <<
Pairing: Boyfriend!Logan Howlett x Girlfriend!Reader
Wordcount: 1.881 Words
Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, insecurities, lots of kisses, allusion of smut, hint of domestic!Logan
Authors Note: @wtfhasmy-lifecometo asked to get some domestic!Logan. He isn’t mentioned as thaaaat domistic, but he got his kitten ear hair. Hope you enjoy.🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Dividers made by me.
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You were sitting on your bed, wrapped in a blanket and a hoodie of your boyfriend. They were just about to kiss in the book, as you felt a shiver running down your spine. Your eyes moved from your book toward the door as you saw Logan leaning against the frame of the door. His green eyes were focused on you — like always — because it was rare that he wouldn't look at you with love and adoration when the two of you were in the same room.
You smiled softly, sitting up straighter as you placed the book to the side. He looked different — not Logan as a person, but his expression was another one as you were used to. Logan would usually look at you with nothing but pure love, but right now you see a hint of uncertainty and almost fear in his green orbs. He slowly pushed himself off the frame and walked closer to you.
He didn't say a word when he sat down, his hands resting in his lap while he looked at the ground in front of you. Logan used to be the softest and sweetest, most confident and cocky man you have ever met, but right now he looks like a lost puppy. The little kitty ears he always made were almost completely ruined — probably by his hands, which were running through his hair — a habit he had whenever he felt scared and tried to calm himself.
You were quiet, watching him intently. You didn't want to break the silence, but slowly the tension grew, and you couldn't stop yourself from squirming slightly. Even though you were used to him being quiet sometimes, just wanting your closeness, cuddles, and lots of kisses between the assurance he needed, he would act differently. It was unlike the man you were together with, and it scared you slightly.
“L-Lo?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, sounding shaky and broken. He turned his head toward you, staring into your eyes. Logan still refused to talk, or maybe he didn't feel like talking right now. It only made the tension in the air and especially between the two of you worse. You couldn't put a finger on this situation or his weird behavior.
Slowly he lifted one of his calloused hands, holding something in it that looked pretty small in his big palm. His eyes moved from your down to his hand as he stared once again at it. Logan was sure that he had studied this thing for around half an hour already. He felt a lot — fear, happiness, uncertainty, but also so much love. It was too much for him to handle, or maybe it was too much because he found out the way he just did.
“What's that?” You asked, trying to get a better look so you would find out what he was holding there. Logan turned his face back to you; there were a lot of emotions swirling in them, and when you finally got a better look of the thing in his hand, you swallowed thickly. It couldn't be that; it couldn't. You made sure that it would be hidden until the evening where you had planned a dinner — and then you wanted to tell him. But now it looks like you were hiding it for other reasons than just making it a special moment.
“I should ask ya that, bub." Logan said the first words since he found it. His voice hoarse and his tears glistened slightly with tears as he held the thing further up. You had the perfect view on it then. You felt a lump in your throat, your eyes searching for Logans. “Is it true? A-Are you pregnant?”
You nodded, anxiety bubbling to the surface, and you pulled your legs closer to your chest, wrapping your arms around it while you kept your eyes on Logan. He closed his eyes, a shaky breath leaving his slightly parted lips. One of his hands — the one that wasn't holding the pregnancy test — ran through his hair, pulling softly. Logan leaned forward, resting both of his thick forearms on his knees while he stared at the test.
He had so many questions about it, so much to say, but yet he was sitting there and couldn't get a word out of himself. There wasn't a thought that would have made sense if he had said it out loud. Or almost no thoughts — there was one who slipped past his lips, his insecurities too much to push them away.
“Why didn’t ya tell me? I-I mean, how long do ya know it already? Did ya plan on telling me?” The questions suddenly blurred out of him after the first words fell over his lips. Logan felt so insecure and lost, not knowing how to react when you answer his question differently from how he hopes. Your boyfriend didn't even know if he wanted to hear the answers. “Is it even mine?”
You gasped, and your eyes widened even more as tears welled up in them. Logan didn't look at you yet, but he inhaled deeply, knowing about the tears in your eyes. He slowly turned his face, swallowing the pain when he saw your tears. His heart clenched; he just wanted to comfort you, but he was also too scared, too vulnerable himself.
“Bub, i-is it mine?” He asked; this time his voice was steadier but still heavy with emotion. You nodded; of course, it was his. You never had eyes for anyone else but Logan; you would never cheat on him. Not when you had the sweetest and most caring man at home. Logan loved you no matter what, and you knew it.
“I-it’s yours; I wanted to tell you. But I wanted to make it special. I wanted to make dinner for us,” you mumbled, your eyes teary as you looked at him. Logan nodded, feeling regret as he heard your words. He bit his lip, nodding to himself. “I love you; I would never cheat on you, Lo. You know that, right?”
Relief filled his chest; he sat up straighter and nodded. He was finally able to calm himself down. He nodded, opened his arms, and waited for you to get the hint and crawl into his arms. First, you were unsure about it; you weren’t sure why, but you were vulnerable, and you knew he was too. But your body moved on its own, slowly letting yourself fall forward until you were resting on your hands and knees to crawl over the bed to Logan.
He immediately wrapped his arms around your smaller frame as he pulled you into his lap. Logan’s thick arms wrapped tightly around you, and you hid your face in his chest. Inhaling deeply, you immediately relax in his warm and familiar embrace.
“‘m sorry, bub,” he grumbled softly. Logan placed his chin on top of your head, sighing softly. His fingers were caressing your back, drawing small circles on it. “I’m happy to get a little one with you — more than happy. It’s just—“
“Your insecurities,” you finished his sentence. Logan groaned quietly, making you chuckle, but the two of you knew you were right. His insecurities were something he suffered quietly most of the time; he got jealous when you talked to younger men or when you laughed with someone he didn’t know.
Logan trusted you with everything, but there was that little voice in his mind that screamed at him that he wasn’t enough for you. You could find someone younger and would be happier with him then.
You lifted your head and leaned back softly before you captured his cheeks with your hands. You smiled softly before closing the gap between the two of you and pressing your lips softly against his. It was just a small kiss, but as you pulled away, you saw the love and affection back in his eyes — no more fear or insecurities.
“If you don’t want it, we can talk about it and find a solu—“ you are interrupted by his hands on your mouth. Logan glared at you like you were crazy before he removed his hands to press his lips against yours. He didn’t want you to say it out loud because there was no way he wouldn’t want that child — your child.
“Don’t ya dare sayin’ that. I love you, bub, and I— I was just overwhelmed. I thought you were hiding it. But I want it. I want it with ya. I would love it even if it wouldn’t be minded, but knowing it is, yes!” He mumbled against your lips before kissing you deeply once again. “I love you; I always have and always will. But they have to get my claws, or I have to buy them a pair of these fancy kids Wolverine costumes they sell at Halloween.”
After a moment of a lot of kisses, Logan suddenly got up with you on his lap and turned around. He threw you on the bed and kneeled down in front of you. He pushed your shirt up and smirked at you, leaning to your belly before kissing it softly. “Hi, little Lo. Before you can talk back, some rules.”
“LOGAN!” You shout with a giggle before slapping the back of his head softly. He grinned into your skin, kissing you once again. He wasn’t bothered about your cute little swap; he was a man on a mission.
“So, don’t hurt ya mommy; do ya here me? I will do the washing and whatever, but I can’t cook. So if ya want food, ya have to be nice, or ya will get some disgusting burned food,” he grumbled, his big hands sneaking over your belly. Your baby belly wasn’t visible yet, but it didn’t matter to him. It was his — it was yours. He was going to be a dad with the prettiest girl carrying his baby. “But now... make some space down there. And keep ya lil claws in ya hands, lil Lo. Daddy has to make things up to ya momma.”
“I love you too, Lo. But am I allowed to decide if I want you to make it up to me like that?” You asked, but Logan shook his head. Of course, you could say no, and he wouldn’t force you, but he knew that you just wanted to tease him. And he loved it, but he couldn’t help continuing to kiss your belly down to the waistband of your pants with a smirk, his big hands gripping you by your sides and holding you tight against him.
"Mhm... maybe when I’m done. But first I want to give ya more of my lit Lo’s. And then we can make dinner together,” he mutters under his breath — emphasizing the ‘together’. Logan was tickling you when his warm breath came down on your skin. You chuckled softly, shaking your hand while you were running your fingers through his soft brown strands. As you pulled him away to kiss him again, he grinned at you. The kiss was deep, passionate, and filled with love and desire —  letting him know that you don’t have any complaints about his plan — about your boyfriend giving you more sweet little babies.
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Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @kimmie113080 @sebastianstanisahotmf @fandomxo00
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moonstruckme · 2 days ago
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Hi lovely!! I hope you’re having a superbly wonderful week so far! I’m absolutely obsessed with all your whimsical!reader works, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to write another with tasm!Peter? I just love the dynamic of someone as scientifically minded as him with someone more celestial-oriented and he never makes her feel dumb or silly or anything and supports her ugh they’re precious <3 you’re precious too <3
Thank you for requesting angel! You're the most precious <3
tasm!Peter Parker x whimsical!reader ♡ 539 words
“This is your life line.” The touch of your fingertip is light enough to tickle. Peter shivers, but you’re too focused to notice. “It doesn’t have any breaks in it, which means you’re dependable and you have strong, healthy genes.” 
Peter hums. “Do you think it’s accounting for the spider genes, or just mine?” 
You nod. “I think you had good genes before that, but it may have gotten deeper over time.” 
“Yeah?” Peter doesn’t doubt that the lines on his palm have changed over time. He thinks it’s for different reasons than you do, but that’s okay. 
“Mhm.” 
“Show me another one.” 
You smile, and it feels like sunlight shining down on his palm. “I was going to. You’re in such a rush.” 
“Well, I’m learning about my fate and everything.” He bumps the top of your head with his nose. “It’s urgent stuff.” 
“This,” your index finger tickles across the top of his palm, “is your heart line.” 
Peter peers at it. “It’s short.” 
“That’s okay. It’s going towards your middle finger, which means you’re passionate. That seems right.” 
“Does it?” 
You hear the smile in Peter’s voice and look up to give him one of your own. “I think so,” you say in that soft, easy way of yours. “You’re very romantic. And see, it breaks into two at the end, which means you put others before yourself. That sounds a lot like you.” 
Peter admires your concentration. Your lashes screen your eyes as you inspect his palm, your features relaxed but lips still curved with the echo of a smile. 
“It’s mostly straight,” you muse, “which I think indicates that you’re content in your relationships.” 
“You don’t say,” Peter hums. “I wonder why that might be.” 
You laugh as he grabs you around the middle, pulling you close and planting a firm kiss on the top of your head. 
“I don’t need my hand to tell me I’m happy, you weirdo.” 
“I’m just telling you what it says,” you defend yourself. 
“Let me see yours.” He sits you between his thighs, leaning over your shoulder. 
“You won’t know what it means, though.” 
“You can tell me. C’mon, gimme. ‘Nless you have something to hide, huh?” 
You relinquish your hand to him, letting him smooth his thumbs over the canvas of your palm. You lean your head into his. 
“Oh,” says Peter. “Hmm. I see. This is very good.” 
“Peter.” Your voice is warm with fondness. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
“I know it’s pretty. It’s a very, very nice line.” He brings it to his lips. “It probably says something about you being sweet, and romantic, and having an okay-looking boyfriend who loves you a lot.” 
You turn your face towards him, your nose to his cheek. “Those aren’t the sorts of things it tells you. And you’re more than okay-looking.” 
“Pretty sure I’m reading it loud and clear, sweetheart. You sure you’re the one who knows how to do this?” 
“I think so,” you say. Your lips part contentedly when Peter finds them with his own, soft and pliant to his touch. 
“Guess I just have natural instincts for it, then.” 
It’s his favorite feeling, your smile blooming against his. “Maybe so.” 
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versias · 2 days ago
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New Brother Just Dropped! Limited Time Cryptid Edition!
Bruce was very proud of his status as a good foster father. You could see it in how he perked up whenever someone asked about his kids, even those no longer living with him. They spent a good thirty minutes discussing how each kid was doing.
Anyone could tell that Jim Gordon’s request for him to foster a witness for a few weeks was taken with respect as a badge of honor.
Tim, of course, was aware that Batman was investigating the disappearance of two Doctors Fenton and subsequent appearance of unusual technology on the streets of Gotham. The fact that their youngest, Daniel, had been found wandering those streets, battered, bleeding, and silent as the grave, had a fairly large impact on Bruce’s willingness to take him in. While he might have done so anyway, the incentive of getting information from him was pretty enticing, too.
When Daniel was brought in to meet Bruce, Tim snapped a surreptitious pic on his phone and sent it to the family group chat.
TimBot: New Brother Just Dropped! Limited Time Cryptid Edition!
Several people are typing…
Even in the photo taken with his enhanced WayneTech camera, Daniel’s features blurred. There was an overlaying haze that caused digital noise to radiate through the image. They figured it was some kind of meta ability, triggered by the same trauma that caused him to shutdown whenever he was questioned about his family.
The boy was sixteen and scrawny in a way that spoke of not getting enough to eat, consistently. His hair was black and his eyes were blue (a fact that everyone was surely going to point out when they got a good look). His hair was unhealthy, though, greasy and brittle and too long in the back. His bangs had clearly been cut on his own to keep his hair out of his eyes. Bags under his eyes and the sallow tint to his skin spoke of nights without sleep, anxiety without end. His clothes hung off him, too big by a size and a half.
He looked kind of like one of the wet kittens Damian had brought home one night—sad and pitiable. A bit pathetic, if one was being uncharitable.
His eyes flickered around the room, sizing up exits and occupants. He cringed away from the officer leading him gently by the shoulder. It looked like he wanted nothing more than to curl into himself and disappear.
He looked hunted.
He looked haunted.
He needed help. Tim was going to make sure he got it.
“Hello, Daniel,” Bruce greeted with a winning smile, the tender version of his innocent grin, number four.
The boy stiffened and blinked. A flinch, suppressed.
Something about the attention of being talked to? Was it Bruce’s superficial resemblance to his father, Dr. Jack Fenton? Or was it a reaction to the name? He could possibly address one of those, at least.
“Do you mind if I call you Danny?” Tim piped up. “I’m Tim, another of Bruce’s gaggle of kids. Obviously, short for Timothy but– Ugh, please don’t.”
Danie- Danny nodded, looking the slightest bit relieved. Bruce gave Tim a grateful glance for the assist.
Tim grinned at both of them.
He checked his phone.
Spoiler Alert!: what’s with this can’t be captured on film shit we adoptin vampires now???
Dancing Queen: 🧛❓❌
🆕 👯✅ 💃🏻💕
Damian Wayne: He is not a new brother, Cain. We are taking him in to protect him and to gather whatever intel he is privy to. Cease this nonsense.
Dancing Queen: 😠 😢
Duuuuuuke: lol denial. 10 bucks says he’s here to stay
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multifandom-exe · 2 days ago
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Intimidation – S. Reid X Reader 
A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic from like 5 years ago, if you want to check out the original here to see how much has changed. Feel free to leave requests! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IN COMMENTS OR ASKS PLS i need to know if I'm still writing like I'm 14 😭. Trying to rewrite one fic of each fandom so i get that reach. 
Request: hey could you make a spencer reid x reader where the reader is new to the BAU and she has more PHDs than reid. which makes him super intimidated and insecure (bc he also finds her very pretty) 
  Word Count: 2.1k 
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Today was an emotional day. Quickly trying to blink back the tears that burned the back of your eyes, you stared up at the skyscraper. A lump rising in your throat, you reflected on all the hard work, all the time, all the energy, you put in just to be able to stand here right now. Years. Years of school, universities, exams, lack of a social life, and probably enough coffee to kill a small village. All to stand at the doors of the BAU, ready to take on your first day.  
You walked through the double doors, flashing your badge, and security directed the way for you. In a brief call with the Boss, Aaron Hotchner, he had given you a rundown of the people who will be on your team. You mentally revisited all the notes you took, trying to suppress the anxiety crawling up your throat. The elevator bell’s ‘ding!’ interrupted your thoughts. Quickly stepping out, you assessed your surroundings, briefly reveling the fact that you were actually here. You are actually, officially, FBI. You glanced through the double glass doors just in time, to catch a stare from someone you could only assume was Spencer Reid. Your eyes followed as he fiddled and dropped a stack of files on the ground. At his clumsiness, who you would assume would be morgan, followed his line of sight to see what all the fuss was about. His lips curled into a smirk as he said something inaudible to the other team members standing by.  
Looking particularly suspicious, just idling in the corridor, you made your way through the double glass doors. You put on your best smile as a distraction from the blush crawling up your neck. You excitedly walked over to the gathering of people; your happiness evident in every step.  
“Hi! I'm officially Supervisory Special Agent Dr. (Y/N) (L/N). Can you use two titles like that? I'm not sure, but regardless just call me (Y/N).” You beamed like a sunflower as you stuck your hand out to shake, who you assumed to be Emilys, hand. Morgan raised his eyebrow, looking you up and down. 
“Well, hey mama, what a nice Suprise.” He looked over at his team members to find their confused faces but raised his eyebrow, nonetheless. A pretty lady in his midst, Morgan would never complain, especially not when she carries a gun. 
“Team.” Everyone's head turned toward the stairs as Hotch ran down them. “I forgot to mention, new team member, (Y/N) meet, Morgan, Emily, JJ, Rossi, and Dr Reid.” He pointed at each one whilst introducing them.  
Your lips curled into a small smile as you beamed again. “Infamous Dr. Reid, Hotchner told me so much about you, apparently we are going to get along.”  
“Yes uhm.” He coughed, ready to list the facts he knew about you. “She can speak several languages, has 4 PHD’s, In Mathematics, Chemistry, Engineering and Psychology, and she has 4BA’s, Philosophy, Sociology, Linguistics and archeology if I remember correctly, all at the age of 26. Very similar to you.” He took a breath after rattling everything off and gave you a smile. 
“A new resident genius huh?” You and the team turned to the source of the voice, immediately noting that it was Penelope Garcia. You gave a small wave as she walked over. “Our boy genius finally has some girl genius competition.” She smiled as a very speechless Spencer opened his mouth, but closed it again, finding he had nothing to say. 
You turned a confusing look at the girl next to him and spoke. “I'm sure we will have lots to talk about, I'm definitely a talker.”  
You gave him a big smile and God he could've died and went to heaven right there. So many thoughts rattled around his head. He was used to being the smartest person in the room. The one constant in his life was his intelligence. And here you were, looking like a fucking sunflower, taking that constant away. 2 degrees. 2 degrees more than him. He genuinely couldn't wrap his head around it. Attraction and intimidation swirled in his mind like oil and water. The best he could do was gulp down his fear, paste a small smile on his face as you walked away to get situated. 
The hours wore on, and the effect of your first day at work was taking its toll on you. Heading over to the coffee machine, you spotted spencer, making what seemed to be his fourth coffee of the day. “I suppose Hotch was right about you being a coffee addict.”  
A giggle erupted from your throat as his head shot up and his eyes widened at you, looking like a deer in the headlights. And once again, he found himself without anything to say. The anxiety of making a fool of himself in front of someone smarter than him was too much. He just grabbed his coffee cup and ducked back to his desk. Your eyes bore holes into the spot where he once stood, a small frown on your face. Had you seriously offended someone on your first day? Shaking your head, you returned to make some delicious coffee.  
Morgan quickly placed himself on the edge of Reids desk as he sat down. “Our babies will be smart and beautiful.” He mocked in a dreamy voice, breaking Spencer away from his thoughts. 
“What?” He gave Morgan a look of feigned innocence. 
“Cmon, Pretty Boy. Youve already got it bad for wonder girl over there.” At the mention of your name, they both look towards the coffee station where you stood, looking like you were right out of a movie. He stuttered out an attempt at denying his friends accusations, but Morgan simply laughed and clapped him on the back, leaving him a stuttering mess at the thought of you. 
“Briefing room!” Your ears perked up at the sounds of your boss’s voice ringing out across the room signaling you had a case. You turned your head and caught Spencers eye on the way, flashing him a timid smile. Finally, something to draw Spencer's thoughts away from you and your intrepid little mind. 
Having been briefed they introduced you to the private jet. Of course it was met with gasps of astonishment from you, never having seen something so amazing in all your life. Everyone had settled in, and you sat down on the couch next to Spencer, taking in everyone on the plane. “Hey Genius Boy.” The common nickname caused Spencer to look up from his book. “Listen, I'm sorry if I offended you, I'm not trying to take your place as resident genius here, I think we could have some crazy in-depth conversations, if you would actually talk to me that is.” Your hands moved to match your voice, as a giggle left your throat to cover the awkwardness. He stared at you, looking like the human embodiment of his dreams, and decided today was not the day for his brain to fail him, he will not come across as stupid as he feels right now.  
“Thank you, I think we would too, you didn't offend me, I'm sorry, I just get a little anxious about things sometimes. And honestly, I've never met anyone with more degrees than I have.” The way he talked with his hands mirrored yours as he explained himself. You beamed at him after hearing you hadn't offended him, and Spencer swore he was melting. He studied your face and noticed your darker eye bags, and your second cup of coffee in hand. He assumed you'd had a sleepless night. He was all too familiar with insomnia, and first day nerves. “I can move if you want to lay down and take a nap.” A nice offer in his eyes, so he was surprised at your reaction. 
Your hands shot to cover your face as you squealed. “Do I really look that bad?” You spread your fingers to look at him whilst still shielding your face. His eyes shot open as he waved his hands a little frantically. 
“Oh god no! No! You look beautiful, really, I just assumed you were tired because of all the coffee.” He gently grasped your hands and removed them away from your face. A blush creeped up your neck at the compliment, and your hair stood on end at the sudden contact. His hands darted back as he felt his own cheeks darken. 
“I'm kidding Spence, I have trouble sleeping on a good day but thank you for caring anyway.” You smiled at him, taking in his features. God he really was beautiful too. Something about having such an intricate mind made a person all the more attractive. 
In hopes to make you feel better, Spencer did what he did best, and rambled, his hands intricately moving as he practically word vomited on you. “Yaknow, some sleep experts have said that sleeping with someone around, and or cuddling with them, actually improves sleep. Your brain releases endorphins and dopamine and all that good stuff when you cuddle with someone, and it is said that aids sleep. I personally don’t believe in sleep studies, or dream studies for that matter, but it could be something to think about in the future.” He stared at his lap as he finished his ramble. 
“Are you asking me to sleep with you, Dr Reid?” You quirked your eyebrows as endless giggles spilled out of your throat at his reaction. His eyes shot open again and he stuttered out some form of apology. He really needed to get his shit together if he ever wanted to have a normal conversation with you. “Okay, okay relax.” Your giggles faded away as you laid a hand on his arm.  
“I was just suggesting, you know you need to be refreshed for a case, if you wanted to sleep near me, if that's okay with you. I mean I could use a little bit more sleep as well.” He tried to distract your eyes from his searing cheeks as he motioned to his coffee cup.  
A smile broke out onto your face as you nodded softly, heat climbing up the back of your neck at the thought of the close proximity. You had heard Spencer was afraid of germs? Huh, maybe that wasn't the case. With 5 hours left till landing, Spencer retrieved a pillow from the couch opposite and laid it in the crook of his arm. Twiddling your fingers together, you shifted on the couch, moving to slip in between his body and his arm.  
You had never been so glad he couldn't see your face, but at this point, you were sure he could probably feel the heat radiating off your cheeks. You sighed into the comfort, with the thought of sleep weighing heavier and heavier on your eyelids. You took in the scent of his shirt, Pine, and old parchment. You gave it 5 minutes until you were whisked away into dreamland.  
Spencer, on the other hand, had never been so awake. He desperately hoped you weren't able to hear his heartbeat thrum against his chest as you got close. He slightly inched his head to lay on top of yours, the scent of your shampoo absolutely intoxicating him. If it were up to him, he would fly this plane to Antarctica just to be here a bit longer with you. 
Bonus 
The jet took a sharp turn and Morgan looked up from his cellphone. His eyes caught you and Spencer, practically wrapped around each other on the couch. The biggest grin broke out on his face as he laughed under his breath. As quietly as possible, he nudged Emily and JJ, pointing his finger in the direction of the couch. Emily rolled her eyes with an incredulous look, and JJ cooed quietly over how cute you two were. Emily whispered, not-so-subtlety, to Derek. “Take a picture before they wake up.” Quickly digging in her purse and throwing him her disposable camera.  
“I hate you all.” They all broke into silent laughter as Spencer grumbled.  
Since that day, that picture had remained pinned on Spencer's desk. 
-
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purinfelix · 1 day ago
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just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto
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summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear
a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)
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"You're actually insane."
"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"
You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.
"A fake relationship?"
"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"
You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.
"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"
"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."
"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.
Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.
"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.
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God fucking damnit.
It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.
You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.
"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"
You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"
His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."
Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."
"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.
"Firstly, no kissing."
"Understood."
"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."
"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"
You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.
"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."
"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."
"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."
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You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.
There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.
Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.
Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.
"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.
"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.
"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."
"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."
"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."
When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"
He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."
"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.
"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"
"See you then."
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The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.
The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.
But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.
"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.
"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."
"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."
You think for a little before answering, "You're right."
"Do you think there's a reason for that?"
"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."
"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."
There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.
"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.
"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."
"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."
"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."
"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."
He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.
"God, I'm so full."
"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"
"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.
"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.
"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."
"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"
"Wow, boring."
He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"
"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.
"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."
You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"
"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.
"Oh we're not-"
"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."
You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.
"No, it's okay, I got this."
"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."
"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."
You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.
"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"
"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.
"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.
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Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.
You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?
"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.
"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.
"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.
"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.
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"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"
Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.
"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.
"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"
You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.
"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."
He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.
"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.
You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.
"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"
"Look, I can explain!"
You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.
"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."
You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.
You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.
"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."
"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.
There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."
"What?"
"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.
"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.
"What?" you're confused.
"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.
"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.
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Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.
Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.
You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.
"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.
"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.
"Don't you?"
"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."
Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.
"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?
"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"
You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.
"Sure, what about?"
"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."
"Goodnight Franco."
"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.
However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.
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You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.
"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.
"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.
"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.
"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.
Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.
"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.
Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.
You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.
"Better?"
"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."
"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."
You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.
"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.
"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."
You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.
You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."
He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.
"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."
"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.
Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.
"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"
He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.
"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"
You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.
"What?" he says, and your heart drops.
"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.
"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.
"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."
"When did you realise?"
"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."
There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.
But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."
It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.
"Wait you mean you-"
"I win!"
You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.
"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.
You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"
"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."
"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."
"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."
"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.
"Even when you proposed this to me?"
"Yep."
"Even when we went to get ice cream?"
"Yep."
"Even when you kissed me?"
"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.
"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.
"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."
You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"
"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.
"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.
"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."
You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.
"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.
"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."
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Taglist : @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @cinderellawithashoe @vanicogh @taasgirl @claudiajacobs
@dripostsstuff @boiolay @earth-to-lottie @dejavuontrack @dudududu-fangirl
@kravitzwhore @gavisuntiedboot @reiofsuns2001 @musicmie @danielle12002x-blog
@alelo23 @corrodeddeadlydoll @aliwritex @nina-or-anna-or-nora
@5sospenguinqueen @araunahj @sbrn0905 @halleest @lottieliveslife
@lovestruck-sky @im-an-op81-fan @blubra @vienoiserieetc
(don't ask me why it's formatted so weird, tumblr hates me)
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reidmania · 2 days ago
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living for the hope of it all | s.reid
summary; spencer wants more than you can offer him.
warnings; fem reader, situationships, friends w benefits situation, illusions to sex, no strings attached agreement, reader has commitment issues, avoidant reader, angst, no happy ending.
an; yayayyayaya i laove angst, i laove avoidant reader.
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You’re sitting across from him, feeling the heat of his gaze from across the room. It’s the same look he always gives you—part curiosity, part yearning, with a layer of something deeper that you’ve tried to ignore from the start. Spencer Reid, a genius, the child prodigy, and, perhaps most dangerously, the man who seems to see right through you.
When you began whatever this was, you were upfront. You didn’t want commitment, didn’t need the complications of feelings and labels. You’d made your boundaries clear, blunt, even cold. No dates, no labels, no expectations. Just the two of you, occasionally meeting in quiet places, sharing stolen hours that were meant to be simple. And you could tell yourself it was just that—simple. Until recently.
It’s not like you didn’t see the signs. The way his hand would linger on your arm, the way his texts became a little more frequent, or how he’d suggest something that sounded suspiciously like an actual date. You’d turn him down or laugh it off, dismissing it like he was only half-serious. But tonight is different. You can feel it. The weight of whatever he’s holding back is nearly suffocating.
“So,” he starts, voice gentle, almost hesitant. “I… need to talk to you about something.”
There it is. The words you’ve been dreading. You swallow, pushing down the instinct to shut this down before it begins, to brush him off with some practiced line that will let you slip out of this conversation unscathed. But something in the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible.
You force yourself to hold his gaze. “What’s on your mind?”
He shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that makes him look younger, a little vulnerable. “I think…” He takes a breath, and you brace yourself for the impact. “I think I want something more with you.”
The words hang between you like a fragile thread, stretched taut, ready to snap. You feel a familiar tightness in your chest, that instinctual urge to pull away, to build walls so high he couldn’t possibly climb them. But instead, you just stare, hoping he’ll continue so you don’t have to respond. Maybe he’ll convince himself it was a bad idea to bring it up.
But Spencer isn’t that easy to dissuade. He’s studied you, probably more than anyone else has. He knows you won’t answer right away. He knows how much you hate talking about feelings, especially your own.
“Look,” he says, quieter now, almost pleading. “I know you said you didn’t want anything serious, and I understand why. But I can’t keep pretending that this is enough for me.”
You open your mouth to reply, but the words get tangled in your throat. He’s too close, too intense, and the familiar panic starts to rise. You want to tell him that he doesn’t need anything more from you, that he should know this was all it ever would be, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to say it.
Instead, you manage a sigh, crossing your arms defensively. “Spencer, we talked about this.”
“I know.” His voice is still soft, but there’s a firmness underneath it. “But people change, right? Feelings change. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I can’t just… stay in this halfway place anymore. Not when I know how I feel about you.”
His words hit you like a punch, and you have to steady yourself, focusing on anything other than his face. You’d been so careful to make sure he knew this was just casual, just an arrangement. A simple fix to fulfill a mutual need. And yet, the way he’s looking at you makes it clear that somewhere along the way, he forgot.
You shift uncomfortably, arms still crossed. “This… isn’t what I want,” you finally say, each word careful and deliberate. “We agreed this was going to be casual. No strings, no feelings.”
“But can’t you see that it’s not that simple anymore?” His voice cracks slightly, and you can hear the desperation, the frustration simmering beneath. “I know you’re scared, and I know you don’t want to get hurt. But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care about you, not when I think about you all the time, not when—”
“Spencer.” You cut him off, sharp, and he flinches slightly. “You knew what this was. I told you from the beginning. I can’t… I’m not going to be someone you can build a future with.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, as if steadying himself, and when he looks at you again, there’s a vulnerability there that makes your stomach twist. “Why not? Why can’t you let yourself care about me?”
Your jaw tightens, and you look away, swallowing down the familiar knot of emotions you’re used to burying. You know he won’t understand, not fully. The truth is too complicated, too layered in years of self-protection, a lifetime of not trusting anyone to stay. Of not trusting yourself to hold onto something good without destroying it. You wished you could argue that you did care about him, because you did. Too much. An uncomfortable amount. An un-admitable amount.
“It’s just not who I am,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t… I don’t do relationships, Spencer. I told you this.”
“You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to keep running from this just because it scares you.” His words cut deeper than you’re willing to admit. There’s a part of you, a voice you’ve tried to ignore, that wonders if maybe he’s right, if maybe you’re just too afraid of what could go wrong to even let yourself imagine what could go right. But the fear outweighs the possibility, and you push that thought away as quickly as it comes.
“It’s not just fear,” you insist, more to yourself than him. “I don’t want the kind of life you want. I don’t want the same things you do.” You didn’t know if this was true, you shut down any hopeful conversation about the future. About what sort of life you wanted, when he had asked you how many kids you wanted that one time you stayed awake together too late, you laughed and brushed it off. You couldn’t imagine being with someone long enough to get to that point.
Spencer’s expression shifts, something like resignation settling in his eyes. He nods slowly, and for a moment, the silence feels crushing, as though it’s pressing down on both of you, making it hard to breathe.
“Okay,” he says finally, his voice quiet, hollow. “If that’s what you really want, then… I’ll respect it.”
You can see the hurt in his eyes, the way he’s forcing himself to accept your words, and it tears at something inside you that you didn’t even realize was vulnerable. You want to tell him that you’re sorry, that you wish things could be different, but the words feel empty in your mouth. If you could choose anyone in the world to fall in love with, it would be Spencer Reid, but regardless of whatever apology or wishful truth you could spit out, it wouldn’t change anything. You and Spencer were so close to being enough, yet so far, like January and December.
So, instead, you just nod, your expression carefully neutral. “It’s for the best, Spencer. Really.” Some sick words you can’t even convince yourself are true.
He gives you a small, sad smile, the kind that twists your insides and makes you want to take it all back, just for a moment. But you don’t. You stay rooted to your spot, holding onto the fragile shell of indifference you’ve constructed around yourself.
“Right,” he says, standing up slowly, his movements careful, as though he’s afraid of breaking something. “I guess… I’ll see you around.” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, and you don’t try to stop him. You watch as he walks away, each step feeling like a goodbye that you’re not sure you’re ready for. But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? The freedom to walk away without attachment, without strings.
But as he disappears around the corner, a hollow ache settles in your chest, a strange emptiness that feels foreign and terrifying. You tell yourself it will pass, that this is just the consequence of cutting ties. You’re good at this. You’re good at moving on. But this time, as the silence fills the space he left behind, you realize with a sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as immune as you thought.
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miupow · 2 days ago
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𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓。⧼ 𝐒. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 ⧽
★ pairing。seo changbin x fem!reader genre。⧼ 📖 ⧽ smut , comedy , pwp warnings。minors do not interact! friends to lovers , non-idol au , college au , roommate!changbin , stoner!changbin , marijuana and alcohol mentions , mentions of infidelity/cheating , rebounds , virginity loss , blood mention (cherry popping) , dirty talk , oral (f. rec) , size kink , praise kink , pet names , possessive behavior , squirting , high sex , inexperienced reader , experienced changbin , hair pulling , unprotected sex , resolved sexual tension
★ synopsis。your roommate, close friend and plug invites you over for a yearly halloween tradition, and also to help you forget about your cheating ex boyfriend.
a/n ⸝⸝ not proofread lol. let me know if there are any mistakes! the ending is a little rushed because i wanted to make sure this was out before halloween... i'm sorry if it's bad ! ! [ 4. 0k words ] ⸝⸝ [ m. list ]
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
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you stare at the text messages, rereading them a few times just to make sure you understood him right— you hadn’t spoken much to changbin at all in the last few weeks or so, especially not about your plans for that night, and part of you had been convinced that he had to have forgotten. but you should have known better than to think that about him, your roommate’s texts left unanswered as you try to hide your phone from your nosy manager. changbin would never forget something like tonight, a tradition the two of you have had since you first had moved in together, reminders everywhere from the candy on sale down to the cheap paper decorations hung up around the grocery store you worked at— it was halloween tonight, your favorite holiday, and since your freshman year of college you and changbin had set a tradition of smoking your weights in weed and watching shitty old horror movies. it was something you looked forward to every year, but this time around you couldn’t conjure up much excitement at all.
you haven’t had much excitement for anything, really, not since the fraternity changbin was pledged to hosted their yearly halloween party earlier that month. it was supposed to be a night of drinking and fun, a celebration of both the season and changbin’s best friend and frat leader chan’s birthday, but your night— and, possibly, the rest of your year— had been ruined in seconds of opening that bathroom door. because there against the sink you had found your boyfriend of four years balls deep inside your best friend.
in retrospect, you were glad you hadn’t needed to pee, because you might have pissed all over the floor in shock.
ever since, you’ve been moving through your life as though you were on autopilot, a mindless zombie as you trudged from your classes to work, from work straight to your bed. you didn’t want to give yourself time to dwell on what you were feeling, instead throwing yourself into your busy schedule to keep you distracted; you had just lost both a friend you had trusted more than anyone and the love of your life in one painful blow, and in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from falling apart entirely, you shut yourself off completely. your trust had crumbled to the point you didn’t want to confide in anyone at all, even to changbin, who you’ve always run to for comfort when you needed it the most.
the two of you had been as thick as thieves since you had first met, his silly and outgoing personality quickly worming its way into your heart— before you could even process it he had become more than just your roommate and your plug for good weed, but one of your closest friends. you’ve told him all your secrets, your dreams and worst fears, poured your heart out to him in a way that you never had with anyone before. he’s your shoulder to cry on that night at the party, cradling you against his broad chest as you soak his tee shirt in tears. he holds you that entire night, only leaving you to get something you wanted. never before had you felt so cared for in your life; not by a man, not by your ex. the intimacy overwhelmed you, and since that morning after you hadn’t said much to each other besides hello. he seems to understand that you need space and left you alone for the most part, but you can see in the way he shoots you lingering sidelong glances that he’s been growing more and more worried about you by the day. while you feel terrible about shutting him out like this, you don’t know any other way to cope. you had locked away your feelings for changbin nearly half a decade ago, and in the span of one night it all came flooding back. it confused your mind and your broken heart, and you needed time alone to think things over.
but you haven’t been doing much thinking. truthfully, you’ve been doing the complete opposite, busying yourself with work and your studies so the point that you didn’t have the time to think anything at all. when halloween came quickly approaching, you ignored it the best you could. betrayal stung like an open wound, all of your pain exposed and raw while everyone celebrates around you. the pit in your stomach grew every passing day, to the point that you felt nauseous— your tummy flips uncomfortably as you type out a reply and delete it repeatedly.
as much as you wanted to spend your night hiding in your room, you didn’t have the heart to skip out on changbin. he would understand, you knew he would, but the idea of disappointing him over something this important hurt nearly as bad as your breakup did.
you’re a big girl, you remind yourself, tapping on your cellphone’s keyboard once again, big girls don’t run away from their problems.
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✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
changbin is already high when you make it home, skunk smoke billowing in your face when you open the front door. you toe off your shoes and join him in the living room, your roommate’s short body sprawled out on the couch as he flips through tv stations— his unfocused red eyes light up at the bag of candy you toss onto the coffee table, immediately abandoning his blunt in the ashtray to reach for the bright packaging.
“what ever happened to ‘hello’? ‘how are you’?” you tease, setting down the case of beers you promised. “i go through all this trouble, and this is the greeting i get?”
changbin’s already stuffed a few candies in his mouth, flashing you a dopey grin as he picks back up the joint to offer it to you. “bad day, huh?”
“just tired.” you reply shortly, taking the blunt from changbin’s outstretched hand before flopping down on the couch beside him with a heavy sigh. your head quickly found its usual spot in the crook of his shoulder, your lips wrapping around the blunt to take a long, deep hit as you curl up against his side. the familiar scent of changbin’s cologne envelopes you like a warm blanket, easing all the nerves that thrummed just under your skin— he wraps his arm around your shoulders without a word, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin as you blow smoke into the air. you couldn’t for the life of you understand why you were so hesitant to come home anymore, changbin tearing down your walls in seconds without even having to say a word. it was so, so dangerous to be around him when your heart ached like it did, especially with how it skips a beat every time he lets out a content little hum. you meet his red-rimmed, hazy eyes when you pass the blunt back to him, giving him a wobbly, unsure smile; changbin just shakes his head and giggles, the endearing way in which he scrunches up his nose just adding to the heaviness in your chest.
your ex hated it when the two of you hung out like this. he threw a fit every time, accusing you of sneaking around with changbin behind his back, never listening when you repeated over and over again that you were just friends.
you aren’t even his type, you think to yourself, that bitterness you’ve kept stored away rearing its ugly head. you were nothing at all like the countless girls that came and went through changbin’s life and his bed.
“c’mon, talk to me.” changbin presses play on some old shitty slasher movie you’re pretty sure you’ve seen before. “tell me what’s going on in that cute ‘lil head of yours.”
“everything is just… a lot, right now.” you admit, snuggling against him. like a dam breaking, all the words you’ve thought over the past few weeks overflow and spill out— you tell changbin everything you’ve been hiding from him, how you feel like your supervisor is always breathing down your neck, how overwhelmed and paralyzed you’ve felt working extra hours to distract yourself from your broken heart. while the horror movie plays in the background you tell him all about how halloween has felt more to you like a funeral than a holiday, the campy screams from the tv oddly fitting background noise for how you were feeling… especially with how your ex refusing to let you go quietly.
“he won’t leave me alone, bin,” you groan, taking another deep hit off the blunt. it had gone out from all your talking, but changbin was quick to relight it for you as you pressed it between your lips. “he keeps texting and calling, apologizing and telling me he loves me… i don’t know how much more i can take.”
changbin curls his lip, tossing his lighter onto the coffee table. “why are you even answering him? just block that asshole already.”
“i dunno—”
“he never treated you right anyway. piece of shit. you should to be treated like a princess, like a queen— fuck anyone who breaks your heart. he doesn’t deserve you.”
“i can’t believe he would do this…” you sniffle, trying your best not to cry. “he told me we were going to be together forever, that we were going wait until marriage… and then he goes and does this?!”
“wait, wait—” changbin interrupts, his red eyes widening. “what about waiting until marriage?”
you look up at him oddly. “he wanted to save ourselves for virginities for our wedding night. sanctioned by the lord and all that. i’m so stupid, believing his pastor’s son bullshit… i should have known it was too good to be true.”
“you’re not stupid,” changbin scolds. “i just had no idea that you were both…”
“virgins?” you prompt with a scoff. “well, i thought we both were, but i guess not!”
changbin looks at you for an uncomfortably long time, blinking owlishly. “i didn’t know you were a virgin.”
“you never asked…” you scoot away from his side awkwardly, casting him a nervous anybody sideways glance. you never thought that changbin would judge you for being a virgin, but maybe you had put too much trust in him. at this point, you struggled to put much trust in.
“woah, hey, i’m not saying that’s a bad thing or anything!” changbin interjects, “if that’s what you want to do i’ll support you. i’m just… surprised, i guess. you’ve really never done anything? like at all?”
“i mean, i’ve kissed before,” you mumble, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “and like, touching and stuff, but not anything past that.”
“not even oral?” changbin gasps.
you shake your head.
the horror movie has been all but forgotten on the tv screen, the suspenseful music oddly fitting for the fluttering in your chest. changbin studies you through the smoke clouding the air, the look in his bloodshot eyes impossible to decipher— you feel so small under his gaze, squirming and shifting in your spot as he scrutinizes you. you open your mouth to speak, but changbin beats you to it.
“have you ever touched yourself?”
you blanche, hands itching to shoot up and hide your face. “um….. yes.”
why were you even telling him this? your sexual experience was none of his business, no matter how close the two of you were… yet you can’t help but feel like he somehow deserves to know. especially when he was the one you always thought about when your hand slid between your legs.
“have you ever made yourself cum?” changbin asks, an unfamiliar, dark edge in his voice making you shiver.
“i… i don’t think i can.” you admit softly, face burning. you try to evert your eyes but changbin is having none of it, gently grabbing your chin and turning you to meet his sharp gaze.
“what do you mean you don’t think you can?!” changbin prods, raising an eyebrow. “everyone can cum, baby. you’ve just been doing it wrong.”
the pet name slips out so fast you nearly miss it, your head spinning and your tummy twisting— never in your wildest dreams had you thought changbin would call you something like that so casually. his rough fingers burn against your skin, holding your chin so firmly yet so gently, such a dominating act turning your brain to mush.
changbin takes your silence and blank stare as some kind of answer, grinning down at you like a predator. “do you wanna know what it’s like to cum?”
you blink. what kind of question was that? “y-yes.” you answer after a pregnant pause, voice barely above a whisper. changbin’s grip on your chin tightens.
“i can show you if you’d like.”
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
you had always wanted your first time to be special. you had dreamed of giving it to your future husband the night of your wedding, a special occasion with candles and rose petals. you had never wanted it any other way before.
but the man you had thought would one day be your husband had you second guessing everything you had ever believed about yourself. you had believed wholeheartedly that he too was saving his virginity for when you got married, but he had given it away like it was nothing behind your back. how many other girls had he fucked besides your best friend? how long had he been lying to you about being your forever? did it even matter now, after the dust settled and found you yourself in changbin’s arms? you were sure now more than ever that that’s exactly where you’re supposed to be.
it feels so right with your back pressed up against the couch, skirt rolled up your hips and your legs spread wide to expose your simple white panties. part of you wished that you had picked a nicer pair to wear, but changbin doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, he admires your pussy as if he had never seen one before, a raw hunger burning in his eyes as he watches your cunt twitch and throb. he can see every movement with your panties so wet, the sopping fabric clinging to the curves of your pussy lips. you can feel every one of his breaths fan over your mound, his face so close with him kneeling below you on the carpet. you fight the overwhelming urge to cover yourself, gnawing on your lip to keep from squealing when he leans over to shove his face in between your legs.
“i’ve wanted to eat this pussy so fucking bad,” changbin growls, his hot mouth trailing against the outline of your mound through your panties, “you have no fucking idea. god, i need to taste you—no, no, keep these panties on, baby. they look so pretty on you.”
changbin shoos your hand away before hooking a finger under the gusset and pulling them to the side, exposing how ridiculously wet you’ve gotten. you’re so horny it aches, fluttering pussy lips wet and sticky— changbin licks his lips at the sight, his pretty brown eyes even prettier when he’s stoned, spit-slick lips blowing cold air against your cunt to watch how you twitch. you so exposed like this, thick thighs spread obscenely as he studies your most intimate areas, and it just adds to the building arousal in your belly. you have half a mind to beg, but changbin beats you to it, dragging the flat of his tongue between your fluttering pussy lips. the unfamiliar sensation makes you shake, every slide of his slippery tongue filling you with desire and anticipation. the pleasure is already too much for you to bear and he’s barely even begun, strong arms wrapping around your thighs as he slobbers wet kisses all over your cunt up to your cute throbbing clit, the engorged bundle of nerves visibly trembling as it peeks out from its little hood. changbin slurps it up between his lips as if it were the sweetest candy, his eyes screwing shut in delight with his face buried in your pussy.
the weed just adds to every sensation, your mind fuzzy and blank except for the intense bursts of pleasure that changbin generously gives to you— you easily lose yourself in it, your hips bucking against his face and your hands shooting down to tangle themselves in his tousled hair. pulling against the strands earns you a deep, primal groan from deep in changbin’s chest. “b-binnie,” you warble brokenly, “it feels so good~”
“yeah?” changbin smirks against your cunt, lips releasing your clit with a wet pop. “you like having your pussy ate, baby?”
“mhm, mhm—” you nod pathetically, using your grip on changbin’s hair to try and pull him impossibly closer to you. he responds in kind, adjusting his grip on your panties before abruptly shoving his tongue inside your weeping little hole.
the sudden sensation makes you gasp, your wide baked red eyes watching in rapture as changbin devours you whole; he shakes his head vigorously as he tongue fucks you deeper, eats you like a starving animal, his big hand on your thigh holding you down so you have no other choice but to take whatever he gives you. the pleasure is overwhelming, clouding your senses in the best way, elevating your high to a level you’ve never quite reached. you felt like you were floating and falling all the same, waves of ecstasy crashing over you and pulling you under. one of changbin’s hands leaves your shaking thigh to circle your clit with his thumb, his chuckle reverberating against your heated skin when you cry out. the pleasure reaches a breaking point, so overwhelming that blood rushes in your ears—
“i-i think i’m gonna pee!” you suddenly shriek, entire body quivering in his hold, the building tension in your gut threatening to overflow. changbin just shoves his tongue deeper inside your hole, nearly folding you in half against the couch cushions with your legs dangling up in the air. “wait, baby, please—”
“shh, oh sweetie, you’re not gonna pee,” changbin coos, thumb working in tandem with his lips and tongue. “you’re gonna cum. you’re gonna squirt all over my face, fuck— make a mess for me, baby, come on.”
it feels as if the world stops spinning as you reach your climax, your vision going white as you toss your head back and scream with release. clear liquid pulses from your cunt, drenching changbin’s face as he slurps your hole greedily. it soaks the bedsheets, so much that it makes a puddle under your ass— changbin helps you ride out your orgasm with his tongue on your clit, drawing slow circles against the oversensitive bud until you swatted at him to let up.
“holy shit, you really did squirt, that’s so fucking hot… how’d that feel, baby?”
“feelssogood~” you moan, legs still shaking from the aftershocks. changbin unwraps them from his neck and pushes himself off the carpet—in a flash he has you underneath him with your knees to your chest, his broad musled body pressing you deep into the couch cushions.
“you want another one?” he grins down at you wickedly, dark eyes sparkling.
“yesyesyes—!” you squeal in excitement, relishing in the feeling of his hard cock through the fabric of his sweatpants, your dripping pussy getting them wet and aiding in the delicious slide. the size of his bulge both frightens and excites you, thicker than you had ever thought or dreamed about; you grind against him needily, ignoring how your panties dug into your flesh, ready for him to take his sweats off, but the feeling of changbin’s blunt fingers against your opening makes you stop and frown. “n-no, no, not your fingers— i want y-you inside!”
“but bunny, you’ve never taken cock before,” changbin murmurs, “i need to stretch you out, i don’t want to hurt you…”
“please, i’m so fucking wet, i can take it! i’m so empty it hurts, binnie, want your big cock…”
“fuck.” changbin spits, eyes screwing shut as he grits his teeth; he breathes like he’s trying to compose himself, fat cock twitching against your hole. “fuck, fuck, alright— i’m gonna go slow, okay? tell me if it hurts.”
with one hand he tugs his sweatpants down his thick thighs, his cock bobbing up to slap against his belly. the size of it makes you gasp, flushed angry red and leaking pearly precum from the tip. thick, throbbing veins wrap around the velvety shaft, adding to the daunting girth that made your cunt clench around nothing.
“like what you see?” changbin teases, wrapping a fist around himself and slowly stroking. he slaps his wet, bulbous tip against your clit two, three times, snickering at your needy whine.
“i-it’s so big!” you whimper brokenly, bottom lip wobbling. “it’s so— i need it inside, please!”
changbin can’t take the waiting anymore, pulling your pussy lips apart to spit on your winking hole; before you can react his cockhead is pushing against your rim and popping inside. you throw your head back and wail, eyes shooting wide in shock, pussy spasming and clamping down tight on his thick cock as he slowly and carefully pushes deeper and deeper inside. “oh fuuckk, baby, so fucking tight! it’s a lot, i know, you gotta try and loosen up for me,” changbin coos, deliciously condescending as his fat length bullied deeper and deeper into your tight virgin hole. the stretch is almost unbearable, burning even with your pussy this soaking wet— you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure, grabbing ahold of changbin’s bicep tightly. “you can take it though, right sweetie?”
he stops halfway to let you adjust, your tight little hole clamping around him like a vice. his cock feels so much bigger inside of you, so unrelenting you feared it would tear you in half. you blink away tears as you struggle to take him, your gummy walls torn between pushing him out and sucking him in deeper. slowly, the pain begins to give way to mounting pleasure, stagnating as changbin lays still inside of you. “i-i’m ready,” you quietly whimper, cunt pulsating.
“you sure?” changbin asks, humming when you shake your head. “i’m gonna move now, let me know if it’s too much—"
there’s a little bit blood mixed with the slick covering his cock when he slowly and carefully slides it out, your pussy squelching obscenely and your hole left gaping. changbin shushes your frightened whimper, pulling you to his chest with a hand cradling your head. ”shh, it’s okay, you’re doing so good~” he coos into your hair, pushing himself slowly back inside of you. “i just popped your cherry, baby. you’re taking my cock like such a good girl, aren’t you?”
his cock hits even deeper than before, all the way to the hilt— his fat mushroom head kisses your cervix with an explosion of red hot pleasure, pressing against it so hard it felt as if he would push through all the way into your empty womb. the rhythm he quickly falls into is punishing, pounding you into the mattress at a brutal pace, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every mean thrust of his hips. “you’re so fucking deep!” you hiccup, burying your face in changbin’s chest.
“yeah, baby? can you feel me in your tummy?” he laughs, his voice infuriatingly calm and collected compared to the way his hips smacked against yours impossibly hard and fast. “fuck, your pussy feels so good, better than i’ve ever dreamed— i’ve always wanted to fuck you so bad, since i’ve met you, bunny! am i making you feel good, princess? is this pussy mine now?”
“yes!” you sob, unable to form any other words, form any coherent thoughts at all; you’re fucked completely dumb in seconds, brain completely empty except for how much pleasure coursed through your body, how perfectly changbin was fucking you, how that fire in your tummy grew hotter and hotter, about to burst like a volcano erupting. “i’m yours, always been yours— this pussy is yours, binnie, fuck!”
“that’s my good little girl. forget about everything except this cock, okay? you’re all mine now, aren’t you? oh my god, this is the best halloween ever.”
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