#multiple dashboard lights

[steves-auto-repair-va]

Diagnostic testing was suggested for a Honda Accord that had a few warning lights turn on.

The anti-lock braking system (ABS) light, red brake light, tire-pressure monitoring system (TPMS) light, and traction control light appeared.

Sometimes, multiple dashboard lights stem from one problem.

[letsbangts]

ridin || jjk

⤷ summary: when the car ride has you both wildin

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 3.8k

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: smut, established relationship au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, pwp (seriously it's just straight SMUT)

⟶ warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content: car sex, dirty talk, fingering, teasing, kissing/making out, grinding, nipple sucking, spitting, oral (m. & f. receiving), manhandling, biting, spanking, big dick jk, soft dom jk, rough sex, unprotected sex (do better than them!), pet names, multiple orgasms, some choking, praising, a bit of degradation, crying, cream pie

↬ a/n: hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ ridin jessie reyez ft lil wayne 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

As you both make your way home, the night streets are relatively quiet; the scattered lights from the occasional passing vehicles, street lamps and the few establishments still open cast a soft glow around you two.

The excitement from your outing still vibrates through the two of you: with the windows rolled down, the wind blowing in your hair and music playing from the speakers, it is hard to be anything but happy right now. However, the atmosphere holds much more than just lighthearted fun—an intensity also surrounds you.

As the car halts at a red light, you glance at Jungkook and take him in with the dark attire that fits him perfectly, accentuating his toned figure and face with striking features that would drive anyone wild. He looks back at you, the glow from the dashboard illuminating his features, and you catch that familiar expression in his eyes. It’s a look you recognize, one that you know mirrors your own. Both of you feel the same thing: desire for each other.

Giving him a smile that holds zero innocence, you put your hand to the side of your seat to pull the lever and lean it back. Jungkook smirks at you as his gaze moves downwards to watch your movements as you spread your black fishnet-covered legs, causing your mini jean skirt to hike up just enough to flash your black thong.

He lets out an airy laugh through his nose, tongue running along the inside of his cheek. His gaze moves back up to meet yours just as the light changes to green.

“Greenlight,” you say with a mischievous smile.

Your boyfriend gets the hint right away. With a grin, Jungkook puts his eyes back on the road to continue the journey home. You feel his tattooed hand come between your thighs, and you let him right in, spreading them even further.

Jungkook, with a hand still on the wheel driving, uses the one occupied with you to trace along your clothed heat. He takes advantage of the access the holes in your tights give him, touching your clit with slow and gentle movements. With your hum of appreciation, he pushes your panties aside and runs his middle finger through your folds coated with arousal.

You let out a small sigh from the feeling, the reaction brings a throaty chuckle out of him as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. The amount of wetness that has already accumulated from the pure lust oozing out of you for this man is almost embarrassing.

“So fucking wet from nothing, huh baby girl,” he snickers.

“Mmm Kook,” you sigh.

Once his finger has gathered enough of the wetness, he slides it right in, your walls enveloping it like they are welcoming him home. He starts moving his finger in a steady rhythm and you moan as you buck your hips up to enhance the pleasure, his palm hitting your clit with every pump. You tilt your head back against the headrest, closing your eyes when you feel tension in your lower belly. Everything around you only intensifies the experience. Between the cool night air on your skin, along with the warmth of Jungkook’s hand on you and the soft music playing mixed with the wet sounds of Jungkook’s finger pumping in and out of you, it all only makes the pleasure build up more.

Suddenly, he pulls his finger out, your eyes snap open, and your head whips over in his direction as your chest heaves up and down. You’re about to ask what made him stop, but he looks over at you and beats you to it:

“Redlight,” he says with a devilish smile and a glint in his eye.

He brings his glistening finger to his mouth sucking your slick off it while keeping eye contact with you. You scoff out a half-laugh of frustration from the sudden fall of the high he had you on.

“You’re just a damn tease,” shaking your head and looking out the windshield.

“You can’t be the only one having fun,” he laughs wickedly while looking straight ahead.

Fortunately, this light changes much faster, indicating go. Jungkook presses on the gas, and your neediness picks up speed along with the car. You see that he makes no move to resume his previous actions, so you try pulling at his hand to bring it back, but he resists and tsks at you.

You cross your arms over your chest, a pout forming, and the unwanted emptiness makes you almost whine in protest. But then you notice Jungkook pulling over at the side of the road. The area is virtually empty, void of any sign of nightlife.   

Jungkook cuts the engine and turns on the dome light. He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches over to do the same for you. Then, before you can react, he grabs your chin, pulls your face to his and kisses you. A soft moan leaves you as you feel his tongue graze against the seam of yours, biting into your lower lip, then he tugs it before he pulls away.

His eyes stare into yours, his lips hovering over yours as he whispers, “No need to catch a little attitude. Now get in the back, hmm,” with his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

Your eyes sparkle as you quickly nod, moving to do exactly what he said, jumping over the centre console eagerly. Jungkook watches with amusement as he opens the door to join you in the backseat. As he steps out the front, smiling and shaking his head.

“Cute,” he mumbles to himself.

When he finally settles beside you, you practically jump him, dragging him by his neck towards you, crashing his lips on yours, but before you both get carried away, Jungkook breaks the kiss.

“One-sec baby.”  

You see him lean forward, stretching over to the front of the car and reaching up to the dome light to turn it off. Grabbing onto his shoulder to stop him, he turns to you with a raised brow in question.

“Leave it on. I like to see you when I’m on top,” you say.

Bringing him back in, both of you smiling into the kiss, but as time goes on, the kissing turns wet and sloppy, tongues swirling around one another. Losing track of how long you make out for, you now feel so hot from the intimacy.

Your fingers tug his hair, and he groans, pulling you onto his lap before he chases your lips once again. His hardness is poking you, but you can tell he’s not fully hard underneath his black jeans. The neediness from before returns between your legs for any touch, your body naturally starts shifting on his lap, making a moan rumble in his chest. Once Jungkook feels you grinding, with your Levi skirt hiked up, he slides his hands underneath it, pinching the band of your tights with his fingertips and then drawing it back to snap against your skin.

Your hands are all over his firm torso, moving underneath his shirt and he grabs your ass and squeezes encouraging you to keep grinding onto his clothed length. His hands run all over your back down to the hem of your hoodie, sliding it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head, and tossing it onto the floor. He dives back into the frenzied makeout, his hands expertly unclipping your black bra and discarding it as well. After a few more minutes of your tongues dancing together, he then grips your waist before he lightly pushes you back, separating both of your lips, now swollen and glistening with mixed saliva.

Jungkook uses his strength to manoeuvre the two of you, having you lie down with him hovering over you with his knees between your legs. His head dives to your neck and he starts sucking.

“Oh, fuck,” you curse, head leaning backwards with his lips on the new spot. He groans into the curve of your neck when your hands find their way under his shirt again, digging your nails into his shoulder blades.

He licks the skin of your neck before he goes back to sucking, skillfully twirling his tongue and making you gasp into the air. Lips journey down, leaving a trail of markings from the side of your neck, down the front of your throat, and along your collarbone. Thick fingers go to the front of your crumpled skirt, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down, while licking a final long strip, stopping just under your ear.

“I think it’s about time we take this off,” he rasps into your ear.

You lift your hips to allow him to slide them down your legs, fishnet tights and underwear following right after with his quick hands, all joining your sweater on the floor. Jungkook pulls away, sitting back on his heels as he eyes your now bare, sprawled-out figure. You lie before him, mouth parted and breathless.

“My pretty girl,” a fond smile on his face as he whispers with his rough hands gently caressing your inner thighs.

“No fair, why are you still dressed?” you whine with a grin, reaching for the hem of his long-sleeved shirt and tugging at it. Jungkook chuckles as he removes it, then leans down and pecks your lips.

“You’re so needy today,” he runs his nose down your neck to your chest. Those doe eyes look up at you before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. Arching your back, you gasp while he swirls his tongue against it. The other is occupied by his hand, moulding the soft flesh in his large palm before pinching the nipple. He switches to the other to give it the same treatment and releases it with a pop after he’s satisfied.

“But don’t worry, babydoll, I’ll take care of you.”

He hovers over you again, slowly moves down to your stomach, his locks tickling against your skin. His words make your heart flutter while his actions bring goosebumps to your skin.

Settling down between your legs, he presses his lips against your hip bone and grabs the back of your knees, pushing your legs up into your chest. Jungkook licks a long stripe over your folds and he spits onto your pussy before he starts kissing and sucking your lower lips.

“Oh, fuck, Kook,” you breathe out, lifting off the seat.

He holds you down, making sure you don’t wriggle away from the extreme pleasure before he enters you with his tongue. Gasping, you grip his hair tightly, releasing a growl out of him. He repeats it all over again lick, kiss, then suck.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, drawing back and pushing his hair out of his face before grabbing your ankles and forcing your legs to stretch out spreading them as far as possible. The way he roughly moves your body around drives you insane. You have one foot resting on the top of the backseat and the other on top of the passenger seat as he pushes two fingers inside you. His tongue returns to your clit, and you moan at the feeling of his muscle playing with the sensitive nub, causing you to clench around his two digits.

“So tight,” he comments as he starts pumping into your velvety walls.

“F-fuck, Kook, r-right there,” you mewl out, eyes rolling back when he brushes that spot that makes your toes curl. Your hips start to rise to meet his motions.

“That’s it, baby. Use my fingers, make yourself cum,” he suddenly speaks, voice breathless.

His encouragement makes you increase your speed as you continue fucking his peace sign, gaze roaming up the colourful intricate ink adorning his arm. You glance up to find Jungkook already looking at you and the eye contact is the final push you need, in a few seconds you’re cumming with a silent scream, walls holding his fingers tightly.

“That’s it, sweetheart cum for me,” he coaxes you through it.

He slowly pulls out his fingers once you’ve calmed down, your eyes shut, with your chest heaving from the intense climax. A surprised squeal leaves your lips when he starts to lick you clean of your juices, ignoring your pleas of overstimulation. When he finishes, he pulls away with lips and chin glistening with evidence of your fierce orgasm that makes you bite your lip.

“You did great, baby. Fuck, I thought I was gonna cum in my pants,” he praises.

You giggle at his remark, and the sound brings a smile to his face. Gazing at the bulge in his black pants, you sit up and push him back by his shoulders, making him sit down properly in the seat. As your hands move to his belt, you lick from the front of his throat to his jaw, stopping just under his ear,

“Your turn, baby,” you declare.

He bites his bottom lip when you unbuckle the belt, helping you slide down his jeans and remove them. Hooking your fingers under the hem of his black Calvin Klein boxers, he lifts himself enough to let you pull them off. His length slaps against his stomach, reddened head leaking precum. Your mouth salivating as you wrap your hand around him, and he sucks in a breath.

When your tongue meets the skin of his cock licking a long stripe from the base and making your way upwards to the tip, his mouth falls open.

“Shit—Fuck, Y/N,” Jungkook doesn’t hide his moan.

You kiss the head humming against it, making your way down to lick his balls, slightly sucking them which makes him whimper. You take him into your mouth, looking up, meeting Jungkook’s hooded eyes, taking him deeper as you try to relax your throat. Your hands wrap around the rest that you can’t fit, slowly pumping him as you bob your head with hollowed cheeks. As you notice his eyes rolling back and thighs tensing you swipe your thumb across his slit, causing him to moan again even louder.

His hand comes to your hair, holding the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek. He pushes up his hips, thrusting all of his length into your mouth. With each thrust, he goes deeper until he sets a good pace, his cock sliding in and out. He inhales, throwing his head back grunting when you run your tongue over his tip and suck him. His angelic and hot sounds cause you to moan around him, the vibration shooting straight through him. He grunts and starts to thrust faster. Trying to control your gag reflex with tears spilling down your cheeks, his hips stutter as you feel him throbbing inside of your mouth.

“Stop that’s enough,” he pulls you away by your hair, a strand of saliva connecting your lips and his glistening dick. Bringing you in for a kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth and making you moan into his. His thumbs wipe at your tears before pulling away both breathing heavily, his hand smacks your ass cheek. With his cheeky grin, he urges you:

“Come ride me, princess.”

Scurrying to straddle him, you hover over him and let your legs rest against the side of his muscular thighs while grabbing his length. You smear the wetness between your legs against his cock to lube him up some more before you pump him a bit, watching a lustful glint in his eyes that are now slits.

“Baby,” he moans, hands gripping your waist, nails digging into your skin.

You position him against your entrance before you sink onto him, your eyes rolling back at the pleasure and stretch. He kisses you and lets his mouth stay on yours while he slowly fills you up. When he’s all in, you sit still for a moment, savouring the feeling of him so deep inside of you. Jungkook, who is also in no rush, kisses you slowly. It’s sensual and passionate, making your head spin and heart swell; it feels wonderful after all the teasing done tonight.

You circle your hips while kissing him, and after a few minutes, you start to ride him, beginning with a slow pace. He detaches from your lips as he leans his forehead against yours. He sits there, enjoying the way you move your hips.

“You look so fucking stunning like this,” he whispers up at you.

The sound of your thighs meeting, paired with both your heavy pants, is heard clearly in the quiet night. You lean back, hands resting on his knees and you start to pick up the pace, he groans moving his hands to grip your ass, and he spreads your cheeks while his nails dig into your skin again. Jungkook starts to roll his hips into yours as he meets your thrusts, feet planted firmly on the floor, sending another wave of pleasure through your body with different intensity.

“Oh my god, don’t stop,” you call out.

Things ultimately turn rough once he takes over the control as he grabs your hips, letting out a grunt when he sets an almost animalistic pace. Looping your hand under his arms and gripping his shoulders, his balls smack against your ass. The sound echoing in the car is loud enough to be heard outside, but neither of you cares to stop.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groans.

“Kook,” you whimper, mouth pressed against his shoulder with eyes screwed shut, as you feel another orgasm approaching and Jungkook notices. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps one hand on your hip continuing to hit your g-spot while bringing the other between your joint bodies to have his thumb draw circles on your clit. You gently bite onto Jungkook’s shoulder while he keeps fucking you, he grunts with your teeth digging into his skin. Your whole body shakes as pleasure washes you all over again, bringing out the loudest moan with your second orgasm of the night.

His hands leave your hips and wrap around your frame, soothingly running up and down your back. You peck his shoulder where you bit him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you let out a whimper, and he chuckles darkly.

“We’re not done yet, on all fours and ass up,” he commands you with a slap on your ass.

You rise off him, leaving you empty and greedy for him all over again. Obeying him quickly, you get on all fours as he requested. You gasp when he presses your back down, cheek pressed against the seat as he lifts your ass even more, back arched ready for him. He palms your ass, grabbing the flesh with his big hands while he enters you smoothly due to your previous climaxes. Once he bottoms out, he doesn’t move, thinking he’s just giving you a moment to compose yourself, but as the seconds tick by, he remains in you unmoving, and you realize he’s teasing again.

“No, baby,” you complain, pushing back into him and shaking your hips a little.

Jungkook leans forward, one hand tugging your hair back and holding you against his chest as his inked hand wraps around your neck, pressing down.

“Are you being a needy slut for me?” he rasps nibbling at your earlobe.

“Yes,” you shiver and nod while clenching around him.

“Oh, you like that, yeah?”

He moves his hand around your neck up to your jaw, gripping it and turning your face towards him, the tips of your noses touching. His thumb parts your lips.

“Open,” he orders, and you comply right away. He gathers spit and lets it drip into your mouth, and you swallow it immediately.

“Mmm, good girl. Now tell me what you want?” he hums.

“M-more please,” knowing Jungkook loves it when you beg.

“Hmm? More what?” he prods with his dick still deep inside you.

“More o-of you,” you reply.

“You already have all of me, baby,” he snickers, jerking his hips to mock you more, and his tip hits that heavenly place.

“Please, fuck me Kook,” you gasp out with pleasure as tears gather in your eyes.

“Anything for my girl. Anything for you, my love,” he vows before letting go of you to fall back onto all fours.

His hands go back to clutching your hips so tight that they’ll probably bruise, but you don’t care. He jackhammers you from the beginning, his strokes instantly go at a rough, steady rhythm. The feeling of his rock-hard dick grazing your tightening walls is like heaven on earth. You chant out his name in a scream as you clench around him again, causing him to grunt in response.

“Holy shit, you’re drenching my dick like a desperate whore. Taking me so easily, you’re my filthy little bitch aren’t you,” he moans.

His words are enough to shoot straight to your core because fuck, if Jungkook’s baritone voice isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever heard, you don’t know what is. His sweaty forehead drops against your bare shoulder, shallow and quick breaths meeting your skin as he moves his hands up to cup your breasts. The tension in your lower belly builds incessantly. Vision blurring, a tear trickles down your cheek and then the coil snaps, the shockwaves of your orgasm have you falling apart once more.

“Oh Jungkook”, you wail.

Jungkook’s thrusts get sloppier with each second, clenching around him, it takes a few more pumps before Jungkook completely halts his movements and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. He’s finally cumming with a growl, filling you with his seed and the feeling has you seeing stars. When he’s filled you with every drop, he sighs and moves his hands to your waist, hugging you closer to him and giving your neck a peck.

The air in the car smells like a beautiful mix of Jungkook’s Dior cologne and sweat. The two of you try to calm down, taking a few more seconds of breathing in and out at a rapid pace before your breathing comes back to normal, and he slowly lifts his head off you.

When he calms enough to pull out, he quickly moves off you and plops back on the backseat. You flip yourself on your back, eyes focused on the car roof and legs stretching out over his. Chest heaves with almost identical heavy breaths that sync with each other. He rubs your legs as he turns to you with exhausted eyes.

“You good?” he asks with a smug smirk, his head tilted back, resting against the headrest.

“Fuck yeah, that was amazing,” you laugh breathlessly and he laughs along with you.

Sitting up and moving to his side, he instantly wraps his arm around you and kisses your temple. You return the gesture with a kiss on his chest before resting your head.

“I could fall asleep like this,” you murmur against his chest, cuddling into him even more.

A soft laugh leaves his mouth, his hand gently slapping your ass.

“No, you can’t fall asleep here. Plus, this was just round one, baby. Wait till we get home, I promise that you won’t be getting any sleep with me.”

[gghostwriter]

Out of Sunshine

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend Trope:Fluff & Comfort w.c: 1.2k a/n: been very overwhelmed with responsibilities and wants lately that I just needed to write a self-indulgent fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer’s knock on your apartment door was met with silence. It was a starry Friday night and he had arranged a dinner reservation with you, his girlfriend for a year and a half, to the newly opened French restaurant along the main street. With a certain spring in his step, he settled with Hotch, and by extension the team, that he couldn’t be disturbed unless an emergency case comes in—something he silently wished not to happen. He had also picked up a bouquet of your favorites from the local florist. An array of whites that reminded him of the dress he first saw you wearing at the park.

He knocked again, ears straining to hear anything behind the dark wooden door. There was nothing. He balanced the bouquet on one hand and reached for the phone inside his satchel. It was quite unlike you to not answer the door.

The number you dialed is either unattended—

“Strange,” he muttered under his breath. During his morning phone call with you, a much needed routine to tide him through the macabre of his job, you sounded so excited about the dinner he’d planned and had even promised to wear the same white dress that had plagued his eidetic memory. He chuckled in reply before asking any plans for the day. There was a slight pause on your end, no doubt thinking of ways to pass time before night winds down, and you answer—

The studio, he remembered. You mentioned passing by your art studio to occupy time. He sighed in relief as he enters his vintage blue car parked on the the sidewalk, bouquet placed securely on the passenger seat. The clock on the dashboard tells him there’s still time to make it to the reservation, granted he wasn’t sure if you were ready to go.

A non-descriptive tune played from the radio as he turned left to enter the designated parking space of your studio building. It was a mixture of soft piano keys that sounded like spring and sunshine, both adjectives he loved to use to describe you.

When he finally found the courage to fumble his way in asking for your number, the smile that flashed on your face was blinding. It was as if he stared directly into the sun with little to no protection for his vision.

Over the course of multiple dates, he found himself waxing prose about you in his head. The pinking of your cheeks reminded him of strawberries ripening, so tempting to touch with his own pair of lips. The twinkle in your eyes, full of adoration and trust, made him feel strong and protective—like he was some kind of crow guarding his loot of sparkling treasure. And the bounce in your step wherever you’d go had him envisioning a sprig of wildflowers growing from each footprint, the nymph of his very own Spring.

He let himself in the studio, grateful you’ve trusted him with a spare key. “Sunshine,” he called out.

The light inside the four cornered room was on, windows all open for the paint fumes to escape, and there you were, hunched over an easel, furiously painting without any care of your surroundings.

He called your name, softer this time, as if to slowly ease you out of the artistic trance. The timber of his voice and his sudden presence led you to squeak in surprise, paintbrush dropping on the wooden streaked floor.

“It’s me, sunshine,” he raised his hands in front of him in surrender. “It’s me.”

Your nose scrunched up in question, a streak of blue dried paint on your cheek, adorable. How adorable you were in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you bent down to grab the brush before resuming your old position.

“It’s 7:50, love.”

You swiveled to face him, eyes wide in distress. Hands promptly reaching to turn over the faced down phone. “No, no—oh my god, I am so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he tries to placate you but his words of comfort seem to fall on deaf ears. “Really, it’s alright. It happens to everyone.”

Tears were starting to build up in your eyes. Your hands were wrangling with the apron tied around your waist as you mutter a series of apologies again and again. “I’m sorry. So sorry—we can’t make it to our reservation now, can’t we? Spence, I’m so so sorry. I—I forgot,” a sob escaped from your throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

He puts down the flowers on the nearest available space, your stool, and steps into your space. Filling it with his perfume and warmth meant to comfort you. He could see how distressed you were—rocking on your heels, hands unable to stay put, and lower lip sandwiched in between your pearly teeth.

“Breathe. It’s completely fine, love. No harm done. Really, it’s alright.”

The tears come rushing down, staining your flushed cheeks with its tracks. “It’s not—how could I forget?”

“Sunshine, it’s okay. It happens to all of us and I know you’re quite busy, it’s understandable.”

You burrow into his chest some more, afraid of separating from him and the haven he brings.

He continued on. “I also know you’re overwhelmed, the exhibit is just around the corner and I know how important it is to you, I understand.”

Laying your cheek near his beating heart, you mutter a reply. “It’s really not—I don’t want you to think you’re not important to me too.”

His hands cupped your face to stare into your saddened eyes. Spencer couldn’t see the warmth and brightness that was always present in his sunshine. There was a cloud of rain and doubt covering its’ greatness. He understood no one could always be happy all the time but it bothered him to see you breaking down from stress.

“Shouldn’t I be the one worried about that?” he lightly joked. “I’ve cancelled on dates so many times and did those ever make you feel less important to me?”

“No. Never,” you sniffled.

“Then what makes you say I’d think that, sunshine? I would never, I promise.”

The corners of your lips lifted up to a small smile. There it was, the rays of sun peeking behind the clouds, bringing warmth back to the dark crevices of his being.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” your lower lip jutting out in a pout. The air of anxiety slowly dissipating around you.

Spencer laughed, noting the tear stained marks littered on his purple button down. “That’s alright. Why don’t we order from your favorite Indian place down the block? We can get your favorites and have our dinner date here instead?”

“You’d be okay with that?”

He leaned in to kiss your temples, taking in the twinkle back in your eyes framed by your wet long lashes and the flush on your cheeks from emotion—good and bad.

For Spencer, you had never looked more beautiful. The reason behind of your breakdown was raw, intimate, and it made him see you in a new light. Heat bloomed in his chest, like a series of red roses, filled with love for you.

“Anywhere with you is good for me, sunshine.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[solefi]

God Between My Legs

𓂃𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠,

| 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

〻(muse.) sim jaeyun

〻(wc.) 11.4k

〻(genre.) smut. dark-ish romance.

〻(notes.) this was inspired by the song 'a little death' by the neighbourhood. i tried writing in third person for the first time in a while as a way to challenge myself, so... sorry if it sounds weird :p

〻(cont.) fem! reader. description of female anatomy. use of Y/N. kissing (a lot). unprotected sex. pulling out. switch! jake. fingering. cunnilingus. multiple positions. overstimulation. licking(?). mentions of cum. cum eating (male). dirty talk (like, a lot of it). spreading my jake oral fixation agenda. mirror sex (kinda? but not really). use of petnames (baby, sweetheart). reader is described as being smaller than jake and having hair long enough to grab in a ponytail. porn with a little plot?

Exhausted and on the run, a runaway girl and the boy who holds her like she’s the only thing worth living for find sanctuary in each other.

The road stretched endlessly and in complete darkness, only broken by the occasional flickering lamppost, the passing of headlights, or the red neon glow of a motel sign. The only sound was the low hum of the car engine and the muted hum of raindrops against the car windows.

Jake’s hands were steady on the wheel, knuckles pale under the dim dashboard light. He hadn’t said a word since they left. His jaw was tight, and his shoulders looked stiff. Every so often, he would turn his head to look at her, but then quickly look back. This time, though, he looked for longer.

She sat curled into the passenger seat, legs tucked beneath her, sleeves covering her hands. Her eyes were distant, and her voice had gone hoarse hours ago due to all the screaming, but at least she wasn’t crying anymore.

She heard him exhale heavily and stopped feeling his eyes on her.

A black duffel bag sat in the back seat, its contents being everything important they owned: clothes, IDs, cash, medication, basic toiletries, a burner phone, a couple of Jake’s blood bags (carefully hidden inside an unassuming pouch), and his watch, which he refused to wear anymore—too recognizable, he said. Too risky.

His hand twitched on the gearshift, then reached toward her—slowly, like he wasn’t sure if she’d pull away.

She didn’t.

Their fingers met, barely. But she clutched his hand like it was the last solid thing in the world.

“I've got you. Always,” Jake said finally, voice low, rasped from hours of silence. His accent melted the edges of the words.

Y/N answered by tightening her grip, eyes still focused out the window.

He glanced at her, then added, “I’ll kill anyone that comes near you again,” his voice no louder than a murmur. “Anyone.”

A beat of silence passed. She turned towards him.

“I’d help you bury them,” she said quietly with a shaky voice.

Jake let out a short breath—half a laugh, half a sigh. He pressed her knuckles against his lips, “That’s my girl.”

The silence returned, but it was different now. Not empty—just waiting. Expectant.

A bright light from a crumbling motel illuminated their faces. It’d been the first in over two hours to show that relieving word in green light, blooming like a beacon that promised some rest for both of them.

With a swift flick of his wrist against the steering wheel, Jake pulled into the lot. Gravel crunched beneath the tires. The building looked like it had seen better days—fluorescent lighting leaking through grimy windows, paint peeling, and a Coke machine that looked forgotten by time.

Jake turned the engine off.

For a moment, they just sat there.

“Wanna stay in the car?” he asked gently, not looking at her.

Y/N blinked. “I…I don’t wanna be alone.”

Jake turned to her then. His hair was tousled, damp near his temples, and he looked impossibly tired—but his eyes held her like another’s arms never could.

“Okay,” he said, voice almost a whisper. “I’ll take care of you, yeah?”

She nodded, “Okay.”

The motel lobby smelled like stale air and damp carpet. Fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed overhead. There were vending machines along one wall with empty rows of old-looking snacks, and a plastic dust-coated fern in a chipped ceramic pot by the entrance. 

Jake walked in first, black duffel slung over one of his broad shoulders. His sweater was damp, making it slightly heavier than usual. It was a little stretched at the sleeves, but long enough to cover his belt and the waistband of his jeans; it was his favorite. Y/N had gifted it to him on their first anniversary.

She followed just a step behind, eyes down but sharp, scanning everything—quietly clocking exits, faces, weaknesses. He hated that she had to. Her legs were bare beneath a pair of denim shorts, she had a tank top clinging to her chest, and Jake’s oversized hoodie swallowing the rest of her.  

Behind the desk sat a man in his mid-50s who looked like he hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Greasy hair clung to his forehead, and the collar of his shirt was stained with sweat. His breath stank of microwave dinners and cheap beer. 

“Well, shit,” the man drawled, leaning forward on his elbows. His eyes didn’t even pretend not to wander over Y/N. “That’s a pretty little thing you got there.”

Jake’s expression hardened. 

The man reached beneath the desk and slapped a dingy clipboard with a registration form down, in front of him. “Bet she keeps you warm at night, huh?” 

Jake said nothing, opting to fill the paper and try not to tear the man’s throat out. He didn’t want to cause a scene, being aware that the last thing Y/N needed was another traumatic event happening because of her, but god, was that ball of grease making it hard from him to behave.

The man scratched at his neck, his eyes never leaving Y/N. Tracing the way her hair fell over her shoulders. 

“If I were you, I’d be careful, boy. Girls like that one don’t stay loyal for long,” His smile widened. His eyes cut toward Y/N again—lingering too long on her bare legs and the dip of her cleavage. “Though, I bet she looks gorgeous on her knees with her tongue out.”

The air changed like a static charge crawling across the skin.

Jake didn’t say a word. He just set the pen down and gave the man a look while his hand dropped to the back pocket of his jeans. His fingers grazed a sharp blade—small, easy to flick open, and easier to bury in someone’s throat. Quick, and much less messy. Though at that point he wanted to make it hurt.

But before the situation could escalate, Y/N wrapped her fingers around his wrist. She didn’t need to say anything. 

He paused.

‘It’s not about you, idiot. Think about her.’

He remembered how her body trembled in the shower while he scrubbed the blood off her body—not having the luxury of time, to be able to do it as gently as he would’ve wanted—and the way her eyes avoided the dead body in her floor at all costs.

His grip loosened.

His hand moved to his front pocket, taking out his wallet and sliding the cash across the counter.

The man slid a grimy clipboard across the counter, followed by a single plastic key. “7B. Corner room. Pretty quiet. No one would hear a thing.”

Jake took the key and started walking outside with Y/N, now holding his arm.

“Better hang on to him, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Boys like him don’t last long out here. The minute he goes for gas, I might just answer the door instead.”

Jake stopped mid-step.

Y/N pulled him gently, asking for his attention. 

“It’s not worth it,” she whispered so that only he could hear.

Jake didn’t move.

“Jake.”

He turned to look at her. Angry. Offended. Possessive.

He held her gaze for a few seconds and then closed his eyes for a beat, jaw flexing as he breathed through his nose. Y/N didn’t let go of his hand until they were outside.

The cool air hit once the door opened—wet with rain that never stopped pouring.

As soon as the motel door swung shut behind them, Jake turned to her, voice low and serious. “Should’ve killed that fucker.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Y/N said softly.

Jake turned to her with something dark and hot in his stare. Y/N brushed her fingers along his knuckles. “It’d be hard to get the blood off your sweater.”

That got a ghost of a smile from him.

They walked in silence again, hands still laced, until they reached the door to their room. Jake unlocked it without a word. It smelled like mildew, the carpet was littered with suspicious stains, and the comforter on the bed was older than both of them combined. A single lamp flickered in the corner next to a small table with two wooden chairs, casting warped light across the room.

Jake stepped in first, scanned every inch—walls, window, ceiling tiles. Once he made sure the room was clear, he let the duffel drop to the floor near the dresser. She didn’t question his actions, allowing him to do whatever he needed to calm his paranoia.

He shut the door, locked it, and slid the bolt into place. Then he checked the knob, then the bolt, then the knob again. Still feeling like it wasn’t enough, he grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and wedged it under the door handle with a slow, deliberate shove. Only then did he step back, still facing the door with tense shoulders.

Y/N sat quietly on the edge of the bed, legs drawn up beneath her, Jake’s hoodie bunched around her thighs. Her fingers played with the frayed seam near the pocket. 

“It won’t open,” she said gently. “No one’s getting in.”

“Not gonna risk it,” he muttered while checking the door again.

With a heavy exhale—let out like he hadn’t taken a real breath since they left the city—Jake sank down to his knees in front of her, resting his head in her lap. 

His hands moved, sliding up the outside of her calves, thumbs tracing gentle circles to soothe the nerves under her skin back into place. Yet his movements—up and down, over and over—seemed more like it was him who needed the repetition to calm whatever was clawing at his ribs.

Y/N’s hands slipped into his hair without hesitation. Her fingers tangled through the raven-black strands, nails brushing his scalp gently. It was instinct. Muscle memory. The way she touched him when she didn’t know what else to say.

They stayed like that—him with his eyes closed, and her lost in thought.

Just that morning, she’d woken up in her bed, sunlight peeking through the curtains in soft streams. His arm was around her waist, mouth against her shoulder, whispering something about finding a place for just the two of them—a stupid, perfect moment.

She remembered the gunshots. Her apartment torn to hell—furniture flipped and broken, bullet holes in the walls, blood across the floor. She remembered the sound of Jake kicking down the door. She remembered him dressing her up and dragging her towards a car that she didn’t recognize.

And now they were here.

In a motel that smelled like rot and someone else’s regrets, with Jake kneeling in front of her like her penance. Her savior and her ruin.

He raised his head slowly, like it hurt to move. His eyes met hers, tired, red-rimmed, and crystallized. Y/N studied every inch of him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered—rough and low, like the words had clawed out of his throat.

His lips were dry, the lower one split with a cut he kept bothering between his teeth. There was a bruise blooming just under his jaw, ugly and dark, half-hidden beneath his hair. His sweater was damp at the collar, wet with a mixture of rainwater and sweat.

Her hands reached to cradle his face delicately, as if he were to break if she used too much force. Her thumbs brushed slowly across his cheeks, wiping away what little was left of his composure. And instead of pulling away, Jake leaned into her touch.

One of her thumbs trailed down, brushing the cut on his lip and then applying more pressure. He flinched slightly, his mouth parting from the sting. His eyes searched hers as if he were afraid she might vanish if he blinked.

“I love you,” she said.

A single tear rolled down Jake’s cheek, his eyes never once leaving hers. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, trying—and failing—to find words to formulate an answer.

So instead, he stood up. 

Y/N didn’t move—didn’t even breathe—as he stepped forward and caged her with one hand braced on the bed beside her hip, the other gently brushing her cheek.

Jake stared down at her, eyes glossy but intense, and then he kissed her.

Not slow or careful, but everything—all of it—at once. Love, fear, need, guilt, relief. It poured into the kiss from his very being like water breaking through a dam. His mouth crashed against hers, urgent and soft at the same time, teeth grazing her lip before he kissed her deeper, letting his body press into hers like he needed to be sure she was real.

Y/N responded without hesitation. She opened to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back with everything she had, like this was the only place in the universe where she belonged. Her hands travelled upwards to tangle in his hair, fingers sliding through the strands like she never wanted to let go again.

Jake let out a low sound against her mouth—half a growl, half a moan. His hips pressed into hers as he deepened the kiss, mouth moving feverishly, hands wandering beneath the fabric of her clothes like he needed skin under his palms.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, foreheads pressed, eyes locked.

“I fucking adore you,” he whispered. “I love you so much it hurts.”

One of her hands moved down again to wipe off the fresh tear tracks on his cheeks.

His eyes swept over her face—cheeks flushed, lips parted, chest rising with shallow, anticipating breath. His lips found hers once more, slower this time—but no less hungry.

His hands moved to the hem of the hoodie she wore—his hoodie—and slowly, he unzipped it. The sound was quiet, but it felt loud within the room's silence. He peeled it off her shoulders, letting it fall behind her onto the bed.

Then, his fingers slid beneath her tank top. He didn’t rush it, though. He pushed the fabric up slowly, palms brushing the warm slope of her stomach, ribs, and finally lifting it over her head. Her hair fell around her face in soft waves.

“God, look at you,” he whispered.

His hands slipped down to her shorts, thumbs brushing the band before sliding them off inch by inch. He knelt again to guide them down her thighs, his mouth ghosting across her skin as he did. His lips pressed a kiss to the bruise on her knee as a silent promise. Then they were gone—shorts, fear, and the last of the night’s cold fingers.

She was left in only her bra and panties, breath soft and body already arching toward him.

Jake rose again, eyes locked on hers, and reached behind her to unhook the clasp. The straps slipped down her arms like falling silk. 

His hand slid between her thighs, brushing her still-clothed core with the lightest stroke of his fingers.

She let out a breathy moan—soft and instinctive and his.

“There she is,” he murmured, a smile growing on his face. “You always sound so pretty when you want me.”

Y/N reached up without a word and tugged at the hem of his sweater. He raised his arms and let her pull it off, revealing the slightly damp T-shirt beneath, clinging to his frame.

She slipped her hands beneath that next layer and lifted it too, revealing the bare torso beneath—warm skin, faint scars, a few smudges of grime from the road and the fight. Her palms ran along his chest, slow and lingering, over the bruise just below his ribs, up to the center of his chest where his heart beat like a war drum.

Then her fingers moved to his belt.

She undid it with steady hands, her knuckles grazing the soft line of hair beneath his navel. The buckle clinked. The button snapped open. The zipper came down slowly.

She eased his jeans down his hips, her eyes never leaving his. 

Jake stepped out of them, standing over her now in nothing but breath and want and the fire burning in his eyes.

Her hands slid back up his thighs, over his hips, tracing along the sharp lines of his toned abdomen and the dip of his lower back. Her hands weren’t shy. She knew him. And he let her see him.

“Touch me,” he rasped. “Everywhere. I want to feel like I belong to you.”

“You do,” she said, voice low, shaky with need. “You always have.”

Jake followed when Y/N tugged gently at his wrist, guiding him down onto the bed beside her. The mattress creaked beneath their combined weight, thin and worn, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but skin and breath and the heat building between them.

He laid facing her, propped on one elbwo, his chest rising and falling just a little too fast. Y/N mirrored him, her fingers already skimming his shoulder, then down along the soft line of muscle across his chest. His skin was warm beneath her palm—faintly damp, flushed, and alive.

Jake’s eyes traced every flicker of movement. She could feel his stare like a physical touch.

“You look like a fucking dream,” he murmured, voice rough silk. His accent curled around the words, low and thick like honey.

She smiled, slow and sinful, and leaned in close until her lips hovered just by his ear.

“Then do something about it.”

Jake let out a breath of a laugh, short and sharp. “Oh, believe me, I’m gonna.”

He turned his head, nose brushing her cheek, and whispered directly against her skin. “I’ve been thinking about this… about you in my hoodie… parading around with your thighs all soft and bare… I swear it had me losing my mind.”

She gasped softly when his hand slid over her waist, pulling her tighter to him. Her thigh brushed his—then something else. Hard and thick, straining against the fabric of his boxers. She tilted her head just enough to catch his smirk.

“You’ve got such a filthy mouth, Jakey.”

“And you love every word,” he whispered, kissing the shell of her ear. 

Her hand trailed down his stomach, her fingers feathering along the band of his boxers before dipping lower, slowly pressing over the thick bulge beneath the fabric. 

His hips flexed forward instinctively, chasing her touch. “Fuck…” he hissed.

Her hand rubbed over him again, firmer this time, and Jake groaned—low and guttural, his eyes fluttering half-closed.

“You’re so hard,” she whispered, dragging her lips along his jaw. “Have you been aching for me since we walked through the door?”

Jake turned toward her, his lips brushing hers with maddening slowness.

“Since way before that,” he breathed. “Since I saw you covered in blood and still fuckin’ beautiful. Since you said ‘I love you’ with those shaky hands and I wanted to drop to my knees and taste every inch of you for the rest of my life.”

Y/N whimpered, her hand curling tighter around him through the fabric.

“I’d never feed again in my life if it meant I can have that pretty mouth on me at all times.”

Jake kissed her—open-mouthed, deep, his tongue claiming hers as his fingers slid along the dip of her waist, down to the curve of her ass. He squeezed gently, grinding himself into her touch.

“You wanna see what my mouth can do?” she murmured against his lips.

Jake grinned, teeth flashing as he licked into her mouth again. 

“Oh, trust me, I know.” One of his hands slipped between her thighs to rub slow circles over her soaked panties.

“I want your thighs on my shoulders and your voice hoarse from screaming my name,” he growled. “I’ll have you so fucked out you’ll forget everything else but me.”

She moaned, and he bit her lower lip gently.

He leaned in, slowly, and pressed a single kiss to her inner thigh. Then another, higher up. Then another—closer. She twitched beneath his mouth.

And when his lips ghosted over her slick, swollen heat through the thin barrier of her panties—fuck. She let out a sound that shot straight through his spine.

Jake chuckled low.

“You’re already soaked?” he murmured, his breath hot against her clothed core. “Just from me running my mouth?”

He licked her through the fabric again—slow and deliberate. A long, wet stripe from the bottom of her slit to the swollen nub at the top. Her thighs tensed, and her fingers twisted in the sheets.

Jake moaned.

“I can taste it, even through the cotton,” he groaned. “You’re not fuckin’ real.”

Then he did it again—his tongue flattening, dragging up over her with aching pressure. He circled her clit through the soaked fabric, then used his fingers to push it slightly aside, exposing her properly.

She gasped when the cool air hit her slick folds, and Jake didn’t waste another second to let his tongue meet bare skin.

A slow stroke. One, then two. Then the tip of his tongue flicked right over her clit—fast, teasing, before he flattened his mouth against her, licking and sucking in slow, sinful rhythm.

Y/N moaned, long and high.

She could feel every flick of Jake’s tongue like a pulse.

It started as warmth—wet and slow, the drag of heat between her thighs making her legs tremble. But then it spread. Her skin flushed, prickled, tightened in waves. Her belly clenched. Her chest rose and fell faster, nipples hardening in the motel’s stale air.

Jake growled into her.

“Fuckin’ sing for me, baby.”

His fingers slipped down, circling her entrance, smearing her wetness up over her slit and back down, working in tandem with his mouth—pressure and motion, just enough to tease her open without giving her what she wanted. Yet.

One finger dipped inside, shallow, curling just a little.

“Feel that?” he whispered, voice soaked with lust. “You’re pulling me in already. She missed me.”

Y/N’s head fell back.

“Jake…”

He sucked hard on her clit at the same time his finger slid deeper, and her whole body arched off the bed.

“Oh—fuck—Jake—”

He didn’t let up. Didn’t even pause. His tongue circled, flicked, pressed. His finger curled again, and then another joined it—thrusting slow, thick, wet sounds echoing in the small motel room as her body clamped around him.

His fingers slipped beneath the band of her panties, tugging them down with a quick, practiced motion and letting them slide past her thighs, knees, and ankles until they were gone—tossed somewhere on the motel floor, forgotten like everything else that wasn’t her.

He resumed his ministrations to her heat with another long lick of his tongue. Her hips bucked involuntarily, only to be caught by his strong hands. He held her open possessively, grounding her like he belonged there. Like she belonged to him.

Every time his tongue swirled over her clit, it was like a current. It tugged something deep in her gut—coiled and heavy and needy.

She whined softly, head rolling against the pillow.

Jake chuckled darkly, tongue flattening against her again before he spoke.

“There she is,” he murmured, lips brushing right over her. “My sweet girl. My pretty baby with a filthy fuckin’ mind. You gonna come for me, yeah?”

Her fingers fisted the sheets. The pleasure was sharp now—buzzing and deep, like her body couldn’t decide if she needed more or needed to escape. But he wasn’t letting her go.

“Shit, every sound you make just makes me hungrier,” he whispered. “Like I could stay down here for hours. Would you let me, baby? Would you ride my tongue like you ride my cock? All sweet and needy and wrecked?”

She gasped—a ragged sound pulled straight from her chest.

Her thighs tried to close, instinctively reacting to the intensity, but Jake didn’t let them. His arms pinned her open again, his mouth dragging over her again with more pressure this time—faster. His fingers teased her entrance, soaked and twitching, never pushing in again, just stroking, circling, making her want.

“She’s mine. This cunt’s mine. Say it,” he groaned.

Y/N’s voice shook, barely a whisper. “Yours. Jake—I’m yours.”

“Louder.”

“Yours. Fuck, Jake—don’t stop!”

He latched onto her clit with his mouth, sucking just hard enough to have her back arching. His tongue flicked over the swollen nub, rhythmic and relentless, while his fingers finally slid back inside—two, then curling.

The stretch. The wet sound. His fucking voice.

“You’re so tight like this, baby. So fuckin’ good around my fingers… just imagine when I sink my cock into you. Gonna fill you up so deep you’ll forget your own name.”

Y/N let out a strangled moan. Her body was right there—trembling on the edge, her vision blurring with the heat. Every nerve under her skin was singing. Her thighs trembled, her core slick and throbbing, her hands lost in the mess of Jake’s dark hair.

And just as that perfect, unbearable heat coiled impossibly tight in her belly, his mouth slowed.

He stopped.

He parted from her with a long, slow lick—one last deep stroke, his tongue pressing into her fluttering, soaked entrance. She gasped, back arching. Her body welcomed it, clamped down around the warm, wet intrusion, needy and desperate for more. But it was only a taste. A farewell.

Then he pulled back, licking his lips like a man coming up from worship, not war.

Her slick shimmered on his mouth, on his chin. His pupils were blown wide, his breathing heavy, chest rising and falling with the pace of his hunger.

Jake gave her pussy one final kiss—slow, wet, open-mouthed, his lips sealing over her entrance in a filthy goodbye that made her toes curl.

Then he leaned back, running his hand slowly up her trembling thigh, fingers trailing like embers on overheated skin. He grinned, smug and shining.

“She missed me,” he murmured.

Y/N blinked, dazed. “What?”

Jake dragged his fingers gently through her folds again, a soft touch now, barely-there. Just enough to make her twitch.

“Your sweet little cunt,” he whispered. “She missed me. Clenching ‘round my tongue like she hadn’t felt me in days.”

Y/N flushed instantly, eyes wide, lips parted in shock.

“You—Jake—that’s so—”

He leaned forward, raised a brow, and let the smirk crawl across his face. “That same pussy I had my fingers in this morning, baby. When I made you grind against my hand until you came all over the sheets.” His voice dipped lower. “And you’re telling me she still missed me?”

She slapped his shoulder lightly, giggling despite herself. “You’re the worst.”

Jake laughed, that deep, messy, boyish sound that made her chest ache. 

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then kissed her inner thigh gently, almost apologetically. Then again, softer, trailing upward—his body following the path until he was level with her.

Y/N watched him rise, her skin still flushed and buzzing, her thighs parted, her breath catching when his face came close again.

This time, instead of being teasing or wild, the kiss was calm.

His mouth met hers like he was kissing her in the kitchen on a Sunday morning, like she hadn’t just screamed into the motel pillows. Like her taste on his lips didn’t matter—or maybe it mattered too much.

She sighed into it, arms looping loosely around his neck, fingers curling into the still-damp strands at his nape.

And when he finally pulled back, his voice was quiet. Different.

“I’m never letting anything touch you again.”

Y/N tugged gently at his arm again, pulling him down with her.

Jake followed instantly, like he was born for it. They sank into the mattress together, bodies pressed side by side, her hand still curled behind his neck, fingers threading through the damp strands at his nape. He was warm against her—bare skin to bare skin, all muscle and heat and tension—but her focus was already drifting.

Because then he kissed her again.

Slow at first. Soft.

Just the faintest brush of lips that sent sparks across the surface of her skin.

But then his mouth opened, and everything else stopped.

Jake’s tongue slipped into her mouth like he owned the air she was breathing. He didn’t push—he coaxed. He guided. His lips molded to hers with aching, perfect pressure, and then that wicked tongue of his licked over hers—just once, slow, deep, wet—and her entire body reacted.

Her thighs clenched instinctively.

A low whimper escaped her throat before she could catch it.

Jake smiled into the kiss.

He heard that.

He licked into her again, tongue flicking, curling, then retreating just to pull her back in with a gentle suck on her lower lip. It was sensual. Hypnotic. Her thoughts dissolved like sugar in warm water. Her fingers slid over his shoulder, her palm resting on his chest, feeling the sharp beat of his heart through her touch.

His mouth was too much and not enough all at once.

Every time he sucked her lip, her stomach fluttered. Every time his tongue dragged over hers, slick and slow, her core throbbed—empty, wet, waiting. Her knees pressed together again, a silent attempt to ground herself.

It didn’t work.

Because he knew. He always knew.

Jake broke the kiss just long enough to breathe into her mouth.

“You’re squeezing your thighs pretty hard,” he whispered, voice thick and hoarse. “Did my kiss makes your pussy ache, baby?”

Her hands tightened on his skin.

This time, she kissed him. Deeper, with more tongue, more heat, more of her mouth claiming every soft part of him. The rhythm was slow, but the weight of it pressed deep, like she could feel his tongue between her legs even though he wasn’t touching her there now.

Their bodies writhed closer, chasing the warmth of each other’s chests, the friction of his thigh between hers, her mouth that wouldn’t stop making him need.

Jake pulled back from the kiss, lips slick, parted. His chest heaved beneath her palm, and his voice when he spoke came out like a growl filtered through a moan.

“You keep kissin’ me like that and I’m gonna fuck you like I did in that bathroom stall. Remember that, baby? In between classes… you were so needy and made me late for my lecture.”

Y/N chuckled breathily at the memory. Her thighs clenched again—this time around him.

She climbed into his lap, slow and sure, knees bracketing his hips. Her body sank down onto his thighs, bare heat pressed to the strain of him beneath his boxers. Jake’s head fell back with a hiss through his teeth.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped.

Y/N leaned in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his throat. She felt his Adam’s apple twitch beneath her lips, felt the vibration of his groan as she dragged her tongue up over it.

Jake’s hands gripped her hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin there like he didn’t know whether to worship or hold her down.

She kissed his jaw next—slow and adoring, lips dragging over the faint stubble, then behind his ear, where her tongue flicked just enough to make him shudder.

And through it all, he kept talking.

His voice was broken, breathless, ruined.

“Gonna bend you over this bed next. Hands flat, back arched, legs shaking. Gonna fuck you ‘til your voice is gone and your knees are too weak to close around me.”

She moaned softly into his neck.

“You like it when I talk like this, don’t you?” he whispered, nipping gently at her shoulder. “My pretty baby gets wet when I tell her all the ways I’m gonna ruin her.”

Her hips rolled forward against him—slow, aching friction that made them both gasp.

“Gonna take you from behind,” he panted, “one hand on your throat, the other between your thighs, makin’ you drip all over me. Then I’m gonna flip you on your back, press your knees to your chest, and fuck into you so deep you won’t remember what day it is.”

Y/N whimpered, her hands dragging up his chest, her mouth pressing kisses along his collarbone, her tongue tasting salt and desperation.

Jake was shaking under her.

“And when you come?” he breathed, “I’m gonna stay inside you. Keep fuckin’ you through it. Gonna keep you open for me and stretch you ‘til you don’t want anyone else. Not that you ever could, baby. No one else knows how to break you like I do.”

His voice cracked, just a little, at the end.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “No one makes me feel the way you do. You ruin me. Every time.”

Y/N lifted her head. Their eyes met. Her breath was ragged, her lips swollen, her heart thundering in her chest.

“You want to break me?” she whispered. “Then do it.”

Jake’s hands tightened on her hips. His next breath hitched into a growl.

They shifted together, both kneeling now on the motel bed, their bodies bare and flushed and starving. The room was quiet except for their heavy breathing, the low creak of the old mattress beneath them, and the far-off hiss of passing cars outside the window.

Jake kissed her again.

Hard and raw. 

Tongue and teeth and heat—his hand tangled in her hair as he dragged her mouth open and took. His tongue plunged deep, slick and possessive, curling against hers in slow, molten strokes that made her hips rock forward without thinking.

She moaned into him. Loud. Needy.

Jake swallowed the sound, then pulled back, lips wet and swollen.

“Turn around,” he rasped. 

Y/N obeyed, breath shaking. She turned slowly, body burning, and knelt on the bed facing the front of the motel room. The beat-up TV sat on top of the scratched old dresser, screen black and slightly dull; however, in the warped, glassy surface, she saw them.

Faintly, hazy with distortion—but there.

Her bare chest, belly, and thighs. The curve of her hips, the dip of her waist and the possessive hold that Jake kept on her. Her flushed face. The dark silhouette of Jake behind her.

And her body reacted.

Her cunt clenched, slick leaking down her thighs, the heat of it so sudden she gasped. 

Jake saw it all.

He slid in behind her, chest to her back, hands framing her hips like he was sculpting her posture to his taste. He leaned in close, lips brushing her ear.

“You like seeing us like this,” he murmured, voice honey-thick and wicked. “My girl… dripping just from a reflection.”

Y/N whimpered.

Jake’s hand gathered her hair—twisting it gently at the base of her skull—and made an imperfect ponytail with his fist. Her head tipped back into his grip, neck exposed.

He groaned softly.

“Pretty fuckin’ neck,” he whispered, and then—his mouth was on her again.

His lips dragged over the skin of her nape, slow and possessive. Then he licked her.

A long, wet stripe from the base of her spine to the crest of her neck. All tongue. Hot and firm and deliberate. Like he was tasting her. Claiming her.

She shuddered violently, hips twitching forward.

“Jake…”

“Shh,” he breathed, mouth still pressed to her skin. “Let me have this.”

He licked her again. Tongue flat, dragging slowly across the sensitive skin just beneath her hairline. His breath hitched.

“I could die like this,” he muttered.

Jake’s fingers slid between her thighs with the same confidence his mouth carried—like he already knew exactly how to ruin her.

He pressed in just enough to glide through her slick, then found her clit with maddening ease. Two fingers moved in tight, slow circles—firm pressure, the rhythm tuned perfectly to her body, like muscle memory.

Y/N moaned, low and broken, knees quivering on the mattress.

“Fuck,” she whispered, arching her back into him, “just like that.”

She turned her head—wanted to see him. Kiss him. She twisted just enough to catch his mouth again, pulling him in with lips parted and tongue already waiting.

But this time, she took the lead.

Jake didn’t resist. He groaned against her lips as she kissed him—hard, hungry. Her tongue slid over his, slick and confident, coaxing every sound from his throat. Then she bit his bottom lip, not enough to hurt—but enough to claim.

Jake’s cock twitched hard behind her, straining against the fabric of his boxers. He ground forward, hips rolling into the soft dip of her ass and lower back, pressing the thick, hot length of himself into her skin so she could feel exactly how desperate he was.

He groaned into her mouth, lips swollen, breath ragged.

“Christ, you kiss like you want to own me.”

“You already said I could,” she whispered.

Jake didn’t argue.

Her left hand reached down, covering the wrist of the hand still playing with her pussy. She didn’t stop him—just held him there, grounding herself in the motion of his fingers. Feeling every stroke, every circle as it sent sparks through her hips and up her spine.

The other hand twisted up and into his hair, fingers tangling tight, pulling.

Jake gasped, his mouth parting under hers, head tipping forward like his whole body was surrendering.

“Fuck, baby…” he whispered against her lips. “You feel that? You feel how hard you’ve got me? Just from your mouth—just from the way you taste.”

His fingers never stopped.

That steady rhythm—perfect circles, light press, then firmer when she whimpered. The slick sounds between her legs grew louder, wetter, and Jake groaned like it was a symphony he’d been dying to conduct.

“You’re dripping,” he murmured. “Fuck, I can feel it all over my hand.”

“Good,” she breathed. “You make me like this.”

He kissed her again, messier now. Tongue everywhere. Groaning into her mouth.

Her hips rocked in time with his fingers, and every press of his cock against her back made her body throb harder. Every kiss she stole made him weaker.

Jake’s fingers slowed—just slightly—then slipped away from her soaked, abused clit.

Y/N let out a gasp, her hips instinctively rolling forward, chasing the friction that had been building into fire under her skin.

Then she whined, high-pitched and desperate.  

Jake groaned at the sound—low and guttural, forehead pressing against the back of her shoulder.

“Fuck me,” he muttered. “You don’t even know what that sound does to me.”

She whined again, back arching, her hand grabbing blindly for his wrist, trying to pull his fingers back down between her thighs.

“Jakey—please—why’d you—”

“I have to get these off, baby,” he rasped, pulling his hips back just far enough for her to feel the absence, but not forget it. His hand left her pussy, but he reached down immediately, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers.

“Gonna lose my fucking mind if I don’t get inside you.”

He pushed the fabric down over his hips and his cock sprang free—thick, flushed dark at the tip, glistening with precum, aching for her. It slapped softly against his lower stomach before he wrapped a hand around the base, groaning at the contact.

“See what you do to me?” he whispered, his voice a growl in her ear. “Look at that. I’ve never been this fucking hard in my life. Never wanted anyone like I want you. Not like this.”

She whimpered, and his hand came up—fingertips trailing along her spine, soft, reverent, until they found her waist again.

Jake leaned in close again, his voice low, rough with hunger and awe.

“Down for me,” he breathed. “Face down. Ass up. You know what I like.”

Y/N obeyed without hesitation.

She lowered her chest to the mattress, arching her back, lifting her hips—slow and deliberate—until she gave him that perfect line, that sweet curve of her spine that he’d seen a hundred times. Her hair spilled around her shoulders, her hands gripping the sheets, thighs parted just wide enough to let him see everything.

Jake let out a sound—raw, desperate, worshipful.

“Jesus fuck, baby… look at you. You want me this bad?”

She looked over her shoulder, eyes dark and gleaming.

“I want all of you.”

Jake’s hand slid up her back, tracing the arch, possessive and trembling. The other wrapped around the base of his cock again as he stepped in closer, the flushed tip dragging through the slick heat of her folds, wetting himself with her arousal.

Then he found her entrance.

She was swollen, fluttering, dripping with need.

And he pushed in.

The thick head of his cock eased inside, stretching her open, filling her just enough to steal the air from her lungs.

Y/N gasped—sharp and high-pitched.

Her hands fisted the sheets, her head dropping between her arms.

He was inside her.

Not fully. Not yet. Just the tip.

But still, it was everything.

Jake groaned behind her, voice breaking.

“You feel that?” he rasped. “How tight you are around just the tip? She missed me, baby.”

Then—inch by inch—he pushed deeper.

Y/N felt it like a tide rolling through her.

The slow, overwhelming pressure of him filling her, pressing into spots only he could reach. The friction, the fullness, the way her walls fluttered with every slow slide forward—it was too much and not enough all at once. Her pussy clenched around him, wet and greedy.

He was hot and thick and so hard, the stretch sending shocks of both pleasure and pain up her spine. Her body pulsed around him, instinctively trying to pull him deeper.

Her mouth fell open.

But it wasn’t just her body reacting.

It was her heart, as well.

Because this was Jake—her Jake. The boy who kissed her forehead after she woke up from a nightmare, who licked blood from her thighs like a vow, and who said I love you with his tongue inside her and meant every syllable.

And now he was filling her completely.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes—not from pain. From how much she felt.

He leaned over her, one hand braced on the bed, the other still gripping her hip like he couldn’t let go.

He bottomed out—finally—the base of his cock pressing flush against her soaked, trembling cunt. Her body took every inch, molded to fit him, welcomed him like he belonged there.

At first, Jake didn’t move.

He just held himself there, buried to the hilt, letting her walls pulse around him—hot and slick and impossibly tight. His hands gripped her hips like he was holding on for dear life, and when he finally pulled back, it was a slow torture. 

Then he thrust back in.

Deep.

“Fuck… this pussy,” he panted. “So fuckin’ warm. So tight. Squeezin’ me like you never want me to leave.”

Y/N’s back arched, and she let out a shaky moan as his hips rolled forward again, another slow, deep stroke that dragged every nerve along her walls.

Jake leaned over her a bit more, his mouth hovering by her ear, his voice a growl softened by awe.

“Do you know how good you feel? How fuckin’ wet you are for me? God, baby—she’s greedy. She’s pulling me in.”

She whimpered, her thighs shaking.

“Jakey, feels so, so good—”

“I know it does,” he whispered, biting softly at her shoulder, hips dragging back again before plunging in deep, deeper. “I get it now. I understand.”

She gasped.

“Understand what?”

Jake groaned, kissing her nape, tongue running up the curve of her spine between thrusts.

“Why men start wars over girls like you.”

Y/N let out a breathless, stunned laugh, even as her body clamped down around him again.

“You’re insane.”

“Mmhm.” He smirked, dragging his cock all the way out until just the tip lingered at her entrance—then slammed back in with one smooth, slow roll of his hips. “Crazy. Absolutely fucking gone for you.”

She moaned again, and her laugh turned into a shiver.

Jake’s thrusts kept the same rhythm—slow, deep, deliberate. His hips snapped forward with weight, burying himself again and again in the tight heat of her cunt, groaning every time her body fluttered around him.

His hand slid up her spine, pressing between her shoulders to deepen that perfect arch.

“You were made for this,” he growled. “For me. This tight little hole’s mine, baby.”

He kissed her again—messy and open-mouthed against her back.

“Could fuck you like this forever. Never pull out. Just keep you full and dripping. Bet you’d love that.”

Jake’s pace began to shift—slow, deep strokes turning faster, sharper. His hips slapped softly against her ass, wet sounds echoing in the quiet, hot room, timed perfectly with her breathy moans and the creak of the bed frame.

He couldn’t stop watching her.

His bottom lip caught between his teeth, bitten and red, eyes locked on the way she moved for him. Met his thrusts halfway. Took him like she’d been sculpted just for this.

And Y/N noticed. Of course she did.

Even through the dizzying pleasure, she saw in their reflection the way his gaze stayed glued to her ass, saw the way he twitched every time she clenched around him.

And she grinned—breathless, wicked.

“I thought you were a boob guy,” she panted, voice laced with teasing. “What happened to all that chest worship, huh?”

Jake froze for a split second.

Then laughed—ragged and wrecked, the sound spilling out of his throat between groans.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he growled, snapping his hips forward harder, making her jolt with the sudden depth, “you bounce this ass like that and expect me to focus on anything else?”

Y/N laughed too—cut short by a moan as his cock hit that perfect spot inside her.

Jake leaned in over her, lips brushing her ear, one hand still gripping her hip, the other now sliding around her front—palming one of her breasts with a rough groan.

“I am a boob guy,” he rasped. “And an ass guy, and a pussy guy. I’m a ‘you’ guy.”

He pinched her nipple, rolled it gently between his fingers.

“You could breathe in my direction, and I’d get hard. Doesn’t matter what part I’m lookin’ at. It’s all mine.”

She gasped again, back arching deeper into him, ass pushing up to meet his thrusts.

He watched the motion in the reflection again—the way she pushed back onto him, watched her face tighten with every thrust. Her mouth open, eyes heavy-lidded, her skin flushed and glistening.

Jake’s rhythm had gone near-perfect—deep and sharp, his hips pistoning into her with that mix of strength and craving. But then he felt it.

Every time he slid out, her pussy fluttered around him, squeezing tight, as if trying to hold him in. And then—when he pushed back in, thick and deep—her muscles relaxed, like she was letting him in on purpose. Inviting him.

Jake choked on a moan, thrust stuttering.

“Baby—fuck—what are you doing to me?”

She smiled—he knew she did, even without seeing her face.

He looked in the reflection.

That wicked, breathless grin.

That soft bounce of her ass every time she clenched around him.

She did it again.

Tighter.

Then again—pulsing around his cock like her body was trying to pull him apart.

Jake snapped.

His hand shot up, grabbing a fistful of her hair, not rough enough to hurt, not really, but enough to make her feel it. He pulled her back hard, arching her spine into a curve so perfect it made his cock throb inside her.

She whined, voice high and sharp.

“Jake—ow—fuck. That hurts—”

He bent over her, his lips brushing her jawline.

“You love it.”

She did.

And so did he.

His free arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her upright against him—flush to his chest, his cock still buried deep inside her, now from a new angle that made them both gasp. The fullness. The depth. The way her walls clung to him like a second skin.

He kissed her again. Tongue-first. All heat, no hesitation. Her mouth opened to him instantly. Tongues collided. Teeth clicked. Her hand flew back, clawing at the side of his thigh, holding him in place as she rocked her hips back into his lap.

Jake moaned into her mouth, hips still moving, fucking up into her from beneath now, his cock dragging against her spot with every thrust.

“You milk me like that again,” he panted against her lips, “and I’m gonna fill you up so deep you’ll feel it in your fucking throat.”

Y/N gasped, lips red and slick, eyes dazed and so full of him.

Jake started to move—hand still in her hair, cock still buried deep, ready to flip her into a new position and fuck her from a new angle.

“Wait,” she breathed, voice soft—breathless, but sweet. “Can—Can you… can you be on top of me?”

He froze.

Still half-sheathed inside her, his hips twitching with restraint.

She looked back at him, over her shoulder, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, hair messy from where he’d gripped it.

Her voice went softer, and her smile turned sheepish.

“I’m tired,” she said, barely louder than a whisper.

Jake blinked once, then a smirk makes its way onto his face. He stared at her—really stared at her. That look in her eyes. The slight tremble in her thighs. Her trust.

He felt it hit right in his chest.

“You’re just lazy,” he said, teasing but warm.

Her cheeks flushed deeper.

“Maybe.”

Jake chuckled, the sound low and loving.

“Come here then, lazy girl.”

He moved gently, slipping out of her to adjust their bodies. He guided her down onto her back, her body folding into the mattress, eyes fluttering shut for a moment with the loss of him. The sheets were rumpled, warm, and damp from sweat and sex.

Then he settled between her legs. Face to face.

His hand found hers, fingers lacing. His other hand came up to brush the damp hair off her forehead, his expression suddenly soft—worshipful.

“You’re so beautiful like this.”

Then he slowly pushed back in.

Her soaked cunt parted for him, her walls welcoming him back like he belonged there. Every inch stretched her again, but now she could see his face. See his lashes flutter when he bottomed out. See the tension in his jaw, the part in his lips when her pussy clenched again.

Her mouth opened in a gasp. Her brows knit with pleasure. Her chest rose with every shaky breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, hips pressing deep, “I can feel all of you.”

Y/N whimpered, wrapping her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper.

Jake’s hips rolled into her—deep strokes that made the bed creak and her breath stutter.

But he couldn’t stop looking at her chest.

The rise and fall of her breasts with every thrust.

The way her nipples were already pebbled, flushed, just begging for his mouth.

His hand slid up between them—palm warm and rough—and he groaned low in his throat.

Then he took one into his mouth.

He sucked hard at first, like he wanted to bruise her with his lips, then softened—his tongue circling her nipple, then flicking it in short, wet strokes that made her gasp and arch into him. He used his hand on the other, kneading, rolling the other peak between his fingers while his teeth grazed the one in his mouth.

Y/N moaned, high and ragged.

Her fingers flew into his hair, tangling there, holding him against her. She gripped tighter every time he sucked harder, tugging the way she knew he loved.

Jake groaned into her breast.

“Fuck, baby… your tits were made for my mouth.”

He bit gently—just enough to make her hips jump—and she let out a breathless, shaky laugh.

Then she started talking.

And it undid him.

“You feel so good, Jakey,” she whispered, eyes locked on his flushed, focused face. “So, so deep… I can feel you in my stomach.”

Jake growled around her nipple, thrusting deeper, slower.

“You’re fucking me so well, baby… you always know what I need.”

His hips twitched, rhythm faltering for a second. Her praise hit different—like she was stroking something raw inside him.

Her thumb brushed his temple as he licked across her chest.

“I love the way you move inside me. Like you’re made for it. Like you know I was made for you.”

Jake lifted his head, mouth wet, jaw tight.

“Keep talking like that,” he panted, “and I’m not gonna last.”

Y/N smiled, dazed and wrecked.

“Good,” she whispered. “I want you to fall apart. I want to feel you lose it inside me.”

Jake kissed her again—open, messy, tongue tangled with hers—while his cock thrust deeper, harder, the rhythm now desperate. His mouth moved from hers to her neck, back to her breast, worshipping, sucking, devouring.

His free hand slipped down between them, careful through the thrusts, until his fingers found her clit again—swollen, soaked, needy.

He rubbed tight, firm circles just the way she liked. Not too fast. Not too soft. Perfect.

Y/N cried out.

Her back arched. Her thighs jerked. Her eyes fluttered half-shut as she grabbed at his shoulder with one hand, her other still tangled in his hair.

“Jake—fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop—”

He didn’t.

His hips rolled deep, cock thrusting in fast, rough strokes that brushed right there, over and over—right on the spot inside her that made her toes curl and her whole body feel like fire under her skin.

His tongue flicked over her nipple again, teeth grazing, sucking, biting.

His fingers never stopped moving.

And her voice—God, her voice—just kept coming.

“You feel so good, Jake—so deep—you’re fucking me so good, baby—I can’t think—I can’t—”

Jake moaned into her chest, cock twitching inside her from her words alone.

“I—I love your cock—fuck, I love how good you fuck me—like I’m yours—Ah!”

“You are mine,” he growled, voice muffled against her skin. “Every inch. Every breath. Every fuckin’ moan—mine.”

“Faster, Jakey,” Y/N gasped, voice cracked and begging. “Harder—please—I need you.”

Jake didn’t hesitate.

His hips snapped forward with more force now, driving into her with heavy, wet thrusts that made the bed rock and her breath catch with every impact. His fingers on her clit moved faster—tight circles, perfect rhythm, slick with her arousal and the heat of how close she was to coming undone.

He kissed her breast again—open-mouthed, tongue dragging over her nipple as he groaned into her skin.

Y/N clutched at his back, nails pressing into the flex of his shoulder blades.

“No one else, Jake,” she breathed, words tumbling between gasps and moans. “There’s no one else who makes me feel like this. No one else I want.”

Jake’s body jerked at that—cock twitching deep inside her, his breath stuttering against her chest.

“I’d rather die than live without you,” she whispered.

His groan was guttural, primal, ripped straight from his chest.

“You mean that?” he rasped, voice shaking, hips pounding into her now, every thrust hitting so deep she could barely breathe.

“I need you,” she said. “I belong to you. I’m yours, Jake—only yours.”

His rhythm faltered for just a moment, like her words had broken something loose inside him.

Then he snapped.

His fingers on her clit moved faster, tighter.

His cock drove into her with the kind of force that made her body bounce into the mattress, thighs trembling with the overload of sensation.

“You’re mine,” he growled, kissing her throat, biting softly at her jaw. “No one gets you but me. No one ever could.”

Her hands flew back into his hair, dragging him down into another kiss—sloppy, deep, tongue-heavy.

She whimpered into his mouth, her thighs shaking, her body trembling beneath him as that coil in her belly tightened dangerously.

“Come for me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel you.”

Y/N shattered like glass struck by lightning. 

It hit fast and overwhelming—the first spasm of pleasure rolling through her like a shockwave. Her thighs clenched around his hips, her toes curled, and her walls tightened around Jake’s cock with a force that nearly made him come on the spot.

“Oh my god—Jake—Jake—” her voice was broken, high, holy, like prayer and desperation fused together.

He felt every squeeze. Every flutter.

His thrusts slowed immediately, deep and controlled, his cock dragging through the slick heat of her as her body convulsed around him. His fingers on her clit softened just slightly, keeping her there, guiding her through it, not rushing, not pulling away.

He kissed her cheek, her throat, her collarbone—open-mouthed and breathless.

“There you go, baby,” he murmured, eyes locked on her face. “That’s it. Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this. Just let it happen.”

She was gasping, eyes squeezed shut, back arching as another wave ripped through her.

Her cunt pulsed around him again—tight, wet, relentless.

Jake didn’t stand a chance.

The second he felt her come—the way her pussy clamped down on him, fluttering around his cock like she was trying to keep him there forever—he was gone.

He slowed even more, each thrust deliberate, letting her feel the weight and stretch of him through the peak of it.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Y/N trembled beneath him, her moans tapering off into soft, overwhelmed whimpers as the high began to fade—but the glow stayed. Her whole body buzzed. Her heart raced. Her fingers gripped him like she’d sink without his skin.

His grip on her hip tightened, his jaw clenched, and he groaned into her shoulder, the sound deep and guttural and full of something breaking.

He was so fucking close, so, so full.

And it took every last ounce of strength in him to pull out—slowly, painfully—her slick, soaked walls dragging on him like a velvet vice, clinging as if to say, ‘don’t go’.

“Fuck—you’re so tight,” he gasped, pulling back inch by inch, every nerve ending in his body on fire. “I don’t wanna leave—shit—”

But he did.

Barely.

And the second he was out—his cock flushed and glistening, twitching with the need to release—he wrapped his hand around the base and stroked himself once—

Twice—

Three times—

“Fuck—Y/N—”

The first rope of cum shot out of him with force, landing right across her slit—thick and creamy and hot.

He groaned through his teeth as another followed—painting her pussy lips white, coating her clit in the warm, sticky mess of it.

More spilled over her entrance—so close to filling her, some of it already seeping inside just the slightest bit, thick drips collecting there, slicking her folds.

He watched it happen, jaw slack, breath ragged.

Her pussy, twitching from aftershocks.

His cum, marking her.

Not bred—but his, nonetheless.

He rubbed the tip of his cock along her soaked slit, dragging through the mess, smearing it across her clit, watching her shiver slightly beneath him.

The room was silent, save for the sound of their ragged breathing—his slower now, hers soft and shallow, like she hadn’t quite come back to earth yet.

Their bodies were still tangled, neither willing to move yet. The motel air was warm against sweat-slick skin, the sheets rumpled and half-slid off the bed.

Jake hovered just above her, propped on one trembling arm. His other hand rested flat over her ribcage, feeling the rise and fall of her chest under his palm.

Her breasts were flushed and glistening, nipples still wet from his mouth, the skin beneath them mottled with hickeys he’d sucked deep into her flesh—his signature, his need. Her collarbones bore more—dark blooms of red-purple where his tongue and teeth had lingered too long. The soft skin at her hips was red, raw where his hands had gripped her too tightly. Possessive. Worshipful. Maybe even a little cruel.

Her lips—God, her lips—swollen and bitten, shiny with spit from their messy, desperate kisses. They looked like sin, and he’d never wanted anything more in his life than to kiss them again.

Her hair spilled out over the motel pillow in wild, damp waves. A halo of chaos. A crown she didn’t even know she wore.

But it was her cunt that kept his eyes.

Red, puffy, glistening. Her pussy lips were flushed and swollen, the delicate folds puffy from how hard she’d been worked, how deep he’d fucked her. The soft pink of her inner lips peeked through slick-stained outer lips—raw, parted, like she was still open for him even now.

His cum was everywhere.

Thick, creamy streaks filled the soft creases between her folds. Some of it clung stubbornly to her clit, tangled in the ridges, glossy and warm, slowly dripping. Another trail had slipped lower—pale white against the flush of her used entrance, where it threatened to slide in, teasing the raw, fluttering rim of her hole.

Her pussy was still clenching.

Twitching—tightening around nothing in soft, slow pulses like it hadn’t yet realized he was gone. As if it was still calling for him, still missing the stretch of his cock. The emptiness only made the mess more obscene.

Her inner thighs gleamed with her slick—slick that had soaked her before he’d even touched her. Before she’d come. Before he’d been inside. It had poured out of her in waves, wetting her soft skin, dripping in thin rivulets down the smooth curve of her thighs, pooling beneath her.

Now, mixed with his cum, it looked even more filthy.

Even more beautiful.

Jake moved without a word.

He slid down the bed, between her still-trembling thighs, resting on his forearms like he belonged there.

Y/N laid open and flushed, her legs barely parted now, heavy with fatigue and aftershocks. But she didn’t resist when he gently eased them apart again. She knew what he was doing. And she let him.

He started at her thighs.

Slow licks first, his tongue dragging along the inside, tracing the sticky remnants of her arousal. He licked through the streaks of slick that had dried to her skin, then lower, collecting the creamy drips of his own cum that had spilled from her. His mouth worked without pause, lips pressing soft kisses in between every lick, every stroke of tongue.

Y/N sighed softly. A shiver rolled through her.

Then he moved up.

There was a bit of his semen clinging to the soft mound above her slit—just a smear, pale and glossy against her flushed skin. Jake leaned in and sucked it clean. Slow. Wet. His tongue flattened, dragging upward, collecting every trace.

He kissed it, then exhaled, hot and heavy.

Then he moves onto her outer lips.

Swollen. Gleaming. Still puffy from the stretch of him.

He mouthed over them first, soft kisses that turned into gentle sucks. His tongue worked in slow strokes along the edges, tasting her, cleaning her, owning the mess he’d made. His hands held her thighs gently now, thumbs stroking mindlessly.

Then his mouth found her clit.

He didn’t rush.

He circled first—just the tip of his tongue, light flicks over the sensitive nub, coaxing it rather than attacking it. Then he flattened his tongue and dragged it across—up, down, again—pressing just a little firmer when she gasped and arched her back.

Jake groaned softly.

She was still so reactive.

He sucked it gently into his mouth, just for a moment, rolling it between his lips before letting go. Her hips twitched. Her breath caught. He loved how she responded to his mouth.

He slid lower.

His tongue pressed between her folds now—slow, deliberate strokes that gathered her slick, his cum, everything in between. He traced the shape of her, the soft, delicate creases, licking through the aftermath like it was his favorite flavor.

And then he reached her hole.

Still red. Still open, just barely.

Still twitching.

Jake moaned, the sound low and desperate.

He leaned in, tongue circling the rim, gentle but unrelenting. He licked over it, around it, into it—just a little. Just enough to make her gasp and shift and say his name like she wasn’t sure if she could take more.

But Jake couldn’t stop. 

His mouth never left her—tongue dragging from the soft folds of her used pussy back up to her clit, where he paused.

Her breath hitched.

“Jakey…” she murmured, voice hoarse, barely more than a whimper.

But it wasn’t no.

It was more.

So he latched onto her clit again—deliberate now, tongue flicking fast and tight, then circling slow, then flicking again.

Y/N’s legs jumped.

Her thighs pressed inward, instinctively trying to close around his head—but Jake just wrapped his arms around them, holding her wide and open.

“You love this,” he murmured between strokes. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”

She moaned—high and helpless.

“I—I can’t—”

“You can,” he growled, tongue never breaking rhythm. “You will. You’re gonna come again, sweetheart. Gonna let me taste it this time.”

He sucked her clit between his lips again, harder now—drawing circles with his tongue while he held her in place.

She writhed under him, fingers twisting in the sheets, her hips stuttering against his face, overwhelmed and overstimulated and so fucking close.

Jake moaned into her, eyes half-lidded, cock still half-hard just from the taste of her.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he murmured. “Letting me fuck you like that… letting me lick you clean. You’re gonna come just from my mouth, aren’t you?”

She nodded, breathless, gasping.

“Yes—yes, Jake—I’m close again—”

He buried his face deeper, tongue stroking harder, faster—one hand sneaking up to press flat over her lower belly, holding her down.

“Then fucking do it, baby,” he growled. “Come on my tongue. I want you shaking. I want you crying for me.”

And she did.

With a cry that broke halfway into a sob, her body arched, then locked, her legs trembling, cunt clenching in fluttering spasms as another orgasm crashed through her. This one was sharper—brighter, and painfully sweet. Her thighs trembled, her hips jerked, her hands flew to his hair, pulling him tighter.

Jake held on.

Held her.

Licked her through every wave, clench, and aftershock. Letting her calm down just enough for her squirming to become light twitching and her moans to become soft whimpers. 

And with that, Jake kissed her one last time.

A full-mouthed smack to her overstimulated, twitching pussy—his tongue already gone, but his claim still lingering in the sound. A parting gift. A promise. Something she’d remember every time she shifted her legs and felt the soreness he left behind.

She let out a shivery, exhausted laugh.

He grinned against her thigh.

Then he finally moved.

Jake dragged his body up the bed, slow and loose with post-release heaviness, skin damp with sweat and her scent. His hair was a mess—flattened where she’d held him, spiked where she’d pulled—but his eyes were soft, dark and warm when they found her face.

She was wrecked.

Her lips parted, lashes low, chest still heaving with the final echoes of that second climax. Her skin glowed with heat, her body limp and raw and safe.

He laid down beside her, then pulled her in—an arm looping around her waist, tugging gently until she rolled into him, face tucked under his chin, her leg sliding over his thigh like it had always belonged there.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Still with me?”

Y/N let out a soft hum against his chest.

“Mmhmm.”

Jake smiled softly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He ran a hand slowly down her spine, then back up to her shoulder, fingers tracing lazy circles into her skin. There was no need for more now. No pressure. Just her in his arms.

Quiet, safe, and his.

The room was dim now, shadows stretching long across the motel ceiling, the air heavy with the scent of sweat, sex, and fading adrenaline.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t need to.

Jake held her close—her cheek resting just above his heart, her leg thrown over his hips, his arms a circle around her small, worn body like a vow made in flesh. She was warm. Quiet. Real.

Her fingertips traced his bicep in slow, looping lines. Barely there. Soothing. The kind of touch that wasn’t meant to stir—but to keep.

She spoke softly.

“What do we do now?”

Jake’s breath hitched. 

“We can’t run forever.” she added. Her voice was tired. 

He didn’t answer right away.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said.

Her fingers paused.

“We can’t go back,” he added. “Not to your place. Not to the city. They’ll be looking.”

Y/N nodded faintly against his chest.

“Then what?”

Jake looked up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. 

Y/N waited, heart pressed against his, her fingers still trailing slowly along his skin. She could feel the hesitation in the way his chest rose beneath her cheek. The pause in his breath. The heaviness starting to creep in again.

And then, finally—softly:

“I don’t know.”

He turned his face slightly, hiding in her hair, one arm tightening around her waist like he was afraid she might let go after hearing it.

“Just hold me,” he whispered.

Y/N didn’t hesitate and pulled him in.

Both arms around him now. Her leg tightening over his hip. Her fingers finding the back of his neck and threading into his hair, grounding him.

“I think I can be okay,” she murmured. “As long as you’re with me.”

He didn’t speak again.

He didn’t have to.

Because in that moment, with her heart pressed to his, her breath warm against his skin, and her arms wrapped around his body—that was the only answer either of them needed.

And in the quiet, with hundreds of questions but nothing left to say, they stayed together.

For now.

TAGLIST @yourislandgirl @splzq @rikiislovrr @hoonprksung @kyunlov

[gpcwsl]

Leah and others are speeding because they're late to training, reader is police officer and stops her. Reader is a no nonsense officer and seems serious and intimidating, has many tattoos and is built. Whatever you want after that 🫶🏽

Leah Williamson x Cop!Reader

Speeding

WC: 783

MasterList

Warnings: Strong Language, Reckless Driving, Law Enforcement Interaction, Flirting with Authority Figures, Mentions of Kinks, Mild Betrayal, Humor & Shenanigans, short?

Song: Playing Dangerous - Blue Shore

Leah Williamson was already having a terrible morning.

Her alarm hadn’t gone off (or maybe she just slept through it, but she refused to take the blame for that). Alessia had been knocking on her door for what felt like hours, yelling about how they were already late. Kyra was waiting outside, arms crossed, looking like she was deciding whether to kill Leah or just let Rénne Slegers do it.

And now? Now she was speeding down the road, foot pressed a little too hard on the accelerator, because if they were late, they were dead.

“Leah, slow down!” Alessia snapped, gripping the handle above the door like her life depended on it.

“Yeah, mate, I’d rather be late than in a ditch,” Kyra added, bracing against the dashboard.

Leah scoffed. “We’re already late. I’m just trying to get us there before Rénne decides we’re bench material for the next five years.”

What she didn’t notice—because she was too busy being stubborn—was the police car parked on the side of the road. The blue and red lights flashed to life the second she sped past, and Leah’s stomach sank.

“Are you serious?” Alessia groaned.

“You absolute idiot,” Kyra muttered, sinking into her seat.

“Maybe they’re not pulling me over,” Leah said, but as soon as she did, the sirens blared.

“Pull. Over. Now,” Alessia ordered.

Leah let out the longest groan of her life, slamming her palm against the steering wheel as she slowed down and pulled onto the side of the road. She didn’t look at Kyra or Alessia, but she could feel their judgment.

“You’re so dumb,” Kyra said under her breath.

A firm knock on the driver’s side window made Leah jump.

“Roll it down,” came a voice—stern, no-nonsense.

Leah turned her head, and—okay, well, this was unexpected.

The officer standing outside was… intimidating, to say the least. Your arms were crossed, muscles straining against the sleeves of your uniform.

The tattoos covering your forearms were the kind that told stories—intricate designs Leah wanted to trace just to see where they led. Your sharp gaze flickered from her to the rest of the car’s occupants, and for a moment, Leah forgot she was in trouble.

“Window,” you repeated.

Leah scrambled to roll it down. “Good morning, officer,” she said, flashing a hopeful smile.

“Licence and registration,” you deadpanned.

Leah swallowed. “Uh, yeah, one sec.” She fumbled around for her wallet while Alessia and Kyra sat in complete silence, staring straight ahead like they wanted no part in this.

As Leah handed over her ID, she swore she saw the corner of your lip twitch, just slightly, before you schooled your expression back into something unreadable. You looked down at her licence, then back at her.

“You in a hurry, Miss Williamson?”

Leah cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’re late for training.”

“You do realise speeding isn’t going to make that better?”

“I do now,” Leah muttered.

You sighed, glancing over at Kyra and Alessia. “And you two?”

“Oh, we told her to slow down,” Kyra said immediately.

“Multiple times,” Alessia added.

Leah shot them a betrayed look. “Wow, thanks for the support.”

You handed her ID back. “I should be writing you a ticket.”

Leah winced. “But…?”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “But I’m giving you a warning. No ticket. This time.”

Leah blinked. “Oh. Wow. Thanks, officer.”

You didn’t reply, just gave her one last look—one that sent an annoying shiver down her spine—before turning on your heel and walking back to your car. Leah sat frozen for a second, watching the way your uniform pulled against your back as you walked away.

When you got into your cruiser and Leah was sure you weren’t about to change your mind, she started the car again and pulled back onto the road.

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

“She was so hot,” Leah blurted.

Alessia groaned. “Leah—”

“I mean, did you see her? The tattoos? The arms? The voice? I think I just developed a cop kink.”

Kyra gagged. “Oh my god, please shut up.”

“She could’ve arrested me, and I would’ve thanked her,” Leah continued, eyes still wide, voice filled with far too much admiration.

“Leah,” Alessia warned.

“I would’ve asked her to frisk me.”

“I’m jumping out of the car,” Kyra announced.

“I’m so serious,” Leah went on. “I might start speeding in this area on purpose.”

Alessia shot her a glare. “You do that, and I’m telling Rénne.”

Leah gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

Oh, I would.”

Leah sighed dramatically, finally falling silent.

For a moment, there was peace.

Then, under her breath—

“Bet she looks good in handcuffs.”

“Leah!”

[heavyhitterheaux]

Girl Errands

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You try to distract your husband from the multiple bags piled up in the back of your car, which was the result of you running "errands"

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Glancing down at your dashboard in your car, you saw that it was now around two in the afternoon and figured that Joe would probably be making his way home soon.

So, that left you with one task.

Beat him home so that he doesn't see the multiple bags that are a result of you telling him that you were going to run “errands”. 

You in fact did not run one errand according to Joe if you were to ask him since they consisted of Target, TJ Maxx, Starbucks, JoAnn Fabrics for more things to crochet, and last but certainly not least browsing the Savage Fenty website for new lingerie which you knew would end up getting torn and would make Joe buy you more. 

As you pulled out of the Target parking lot, you were met with a stop sign before turning on the main street and coming to a red stop light. You just so happened to glance to your right to see no one other than your husband drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and waiting for the light to change.

“Shit!” You muttered as you glanced behind you to look at the multiple bags in the backseat.

When you turned back around, Joe just so happened to catch your eye and you smirked before you gestured for him to roll down his window.

You might as well distract him.

“Hey handsome! You got a girl? I'm trying to go on a date with you tonight.” You said as you winked at him while he couldn't help but to laugh at your horrible attempt at a pick up line.

“I have a wife actually and I highly doubt she would like that very much.” 

“Well, I won't tell if you won't.”

“I'm trying to save us both from ending up being six feet under. She's short, but don't let that fool you.” He replied as you turned up your nose and glared at him.

“I'm sure I can take it. So what do you say?”

Before Joe could respond, he glanced in the backseat of your car and made a face before turning his attention back towards you.

“Uh oh.” You said quietly before you heard your husband's voice.

“Baby! What do you have in the backseat!?”

“Nothing! Bye!” You told him as the light turned green and you pulled off without another word.

But your luck ran out when you were once again caught at a stop light literally less than a mile from your house right next to Joe as he gestured for you to roll your window down and you shook your head no.

So as soon as you told him no, your ringtone for him started blasting throughout the car and you hesitantly hit accept.

“Princess….”

“Oh thank goodness. There's this weird dude who keeps following me in his car and pulling up next to me every time I'm at a stop light.”

“I am not doing this with you today. I refuse.” Joe said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Refuse what, babe?”

“Don't act dumb. Now what is in the backseat?”

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“For me to know and for you not to find out because I was supposed to beat you home and hide everything.” You honestly told him.

“Hmm, and how's that working out for you?”

“It'll be fine once I get home before you do.” You replied as you hit the gas once more and sped away from him.

“I am literally right behind you and you better slow down before you get a ticket.”

“I'm pretty and I'll be let off with a warning. Works every time.”

“Why do you love to stress me out on a daily basis?”

“You're the one who asked me to marry you so you did this to yourself.” You replied as you pulled into the garage with Joe right behind you.

Joe got out of his Porsche before coming over to the driver's side door of your car and opening it, seeing you smiling at him, but he did not look amused.

“Hi baby!” You greeted him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist.

Placing a kiss on his lips, he didn’t return it which made you frown. 

“Give me a kiss and fix your face.”

Joe rolled his eyes before kissing you and continued to make a face at you as he pulled away.

“Is this supposed to be serving as a distraction?”

“A little bit, but I can take my clothes off if it isn't working. Now how about that date you promised me?”

“I never even gave you an answer.”

“You're undressing me with your eyes so that's a good enough answer which obviously translates to yes.”

“We can go on a date... right after you show me what's in the backseat.”

“No.”

“Fine. I'll just get my hair cut and run errands in my gray sweatpants.” Joe told you as your eyes then went wide.

“I… Just get the bags please and I'll tell you.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

[snowseasonmademe]

Further, Faster, Harder.

word count: 7,747

warning ‼️: a LOT of smut (multiple positions), biiiigggggg age gap (20 years)

paring: boyfriend lewis x black female reader

summary: Lewis wanted to make you feel extra special on your (shared) special day.

note: this is a long one yall, but lewis and i are the same zodiac so i wrote a little 🎶birthday sex🎶 fic. he just so happens to be almost exactly 20 years older than me and apparently i like old men so i couldn’t pass this up! i hope you all enjoy, and ofc tell me what you think ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The low, throaty purr of an all-black Ferrari SF90 Stradale echoed through the crisp January evening as you glanced out the passenger window. The car felt alive beneath you, its engine a symphony of power that hummed through the leather seats. The London skyline shimmered ahead, a sea of lights that seemed to stretch endlessly, while the glow of the dashboard bathed the sleek interior in an ambient red hue. Despite the chill in the air outside, warmth bubbled in your chest. It was your birthday—your mutual birthday—a twist of fate that had felt oddly serendipitous from the moment you and Lewis first discovered it.

He shifted gears with practiced ease, his hand briefly brushing the edge of your thigh. “So” he began, his voice smooth and teasing, “did you really think I’d let us spend our day any other way?”

You snorted, pulling the caramel-hued coat tighter around you, not for warmth but because his presence always seemed to steal the air. “Oh, absolutely not. I fully expected flashy cars, a private dinner, and you trying—very unsuccessfully, might I add—to outshine my birthday with yours.”

Lewis let out a low, rich laugh that filled the car, his dimple appearing in the dim light as he stole a quick glance at you. “Please. Let’s not pretend it’s a competition. Everyone knows the better Capricorn here its obvious.”

You raised an eyebrow, biting back a grin. “Obvious? That’s a bold claim for someone who just hit 40. You’re practically ancient now.”

He shot you a mock-offended look, his British accent sharpening with playfulness. “Ancient? Forty’s the peak of my prime. Haven’t you heard? I’m like fine wine.”

“Yeah, fine wine that’s been aged a bit too long” you teased, your laughter dancing through the space between you.

“Chill” he warned, a wicked smile tugging at his lips as he smoothly turned a corner, the Ferrari responding like a predator stalking the night. “This ancient man just might leave you walking home.”

“Walking home? In this coat?” You gestured dramatically at your outfit. “You’d be doing London a favor. People need to see me.”

“True” he admitted, his grin widening. “You do look stunning. But I think we both know you’d rather freeze than miss this ride.”

You leaned back in the plush seat, letting your fingers trail over the soft leather armrest. “I don’t know. Your little Ferrari phase might’ve won me over. For now.”

He let out a sharp laugh. “Little Ferrari phase? Tell that to the team—they’d love that description.”

The playful banter carried you through the streets until the car finally pulled to a stop in front of a riverside restaurant that practically screamed elegance.

Inside, the restaurant felt like stepping into another world. The glow of candlelight flickered against the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows that danced on the polished hardwood floors. The Thames flowed serenely outside, its reflection catching the city’s twinkling lights.

The maître d’ greeted you both with warmth, though his polite smile lingered on Lewis just a little too long for your liking. You shot him a knowing glance, which Lewis met with a raised brow and an amused smirk, as if to say, You’re jealous.

“Only the best for the birthday queen” Lewis declared as he pulled out your chair, his voice dipped in that velvety British lilt that always made your stomach flutter.

You tilted your head at him, feigning disappointment. “And here I was thinking you’d forgotten the tiara.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Not forgotten. Just saving the best for later.”

The dinner unfolded like a dream. Each dish was a masterpiece, from the perfectly seared scallops to the rich, velvety dessert that melted on your tongue. The wine was as smooth as the conversation, which flowed effortlessly between the two of you, laced with wit and the kind of intimacy that could only come from two people who knew each other down to the smallest detail.

“Seriously, though” you said, swirling the last of your wine in the glass. “How does it feel being forty? Do you get senior discounts now?”

Lewis set down his fork, leaning back in his chair with an amused glint in his eye. “I’ll have you know I’m still younger at heart than you. But if senior discounts include free wine, I might consider it.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Free wine or not, you’re officially in ‘bee keeper’ territory now.”

“And yet here you are” he shot back, his tone sly as he rested his chin on his hand, “celebrating your big 2-0 with me. What does that say about your taste, love?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “That I have a thing for men with ridiculous levels of confidence.”

“Ridiculous confidence is just another way of saying I’ve got good reason.”

Somewhere between dessert and the end of the second bottle of wine, Lewis leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, I’ve never spent a birthday like this before.”

You raised a brow. “What, you mean being roasted by someone half your age?”

“No” he said with a soft laugh, his gaze locking with yours. “I mean, spending it with someone who makes it unforgettable.”

Heat crept up your neck as the words settled over you. For once, you were grateful for the low lighting, knowing he’d catch the blush on your face if the room were any brighter. “You’ve got good lines, Hamilton. I’ll give you that.”

He smirked, his dimple reappearing. “And here you thought I was ancient.”

The drive back to his place was quieter now, the low hum of the Ferrari’s engine filling the silence as the city lights smeared into a kaleidoscope of golds and whites against the window. You watched the world rush by, your cheek pressed lightly against the cool glass, your mind swirling with the events of the evening. Lewis’s hand rested on the gear shift, his thumb occasionally brushing against your knee, a small but grounding gesture that sent tiny sparks up your spine.

Lewis had a way of making silence feel intimate, like you were sharing a secret only the two of you could understand. He’d crack the occasional joke, his British accent wrapping around his words in that smooth, teasing way of his, but he also seemed content to just be with you, letting the moment stretch without feeling the need to fill it.

“I’m just saying” you broke the silence, a playful lilt in your voice, “you’ve got way too much energy for someone turning 40. Should I be worried you’re one of those guys who lies about his age?”

He glanced at you, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Love, if I were lying, don’t you think I’d say I’m younger? What kind of idiot would round up to 40?”

You bit back a laugh. “Fair point. Still, you’ve got that youthful glow. Should I be looking for a fountain of youth around here?”

“Funny. I was going to say the same about you,” he quipped, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning to the road. “Though I think the real secret is being around me. I have that effect, you know.”

“Ah, yes” you teased, your voice dripping with mock sincerity. “Sir Lewis Hamilton, F1 driver, philanthropist, anti-aging elixir. Truly a man of many talents.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and effortless. “Don’t forget humble. That’s the most important one.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at your lips. The kind of banter you shared felt as natural as breathing, a testament to how far you’d come in the past year. Last year, you’d been strangers, exchanging polite birthday messages in a group chat. Now, almost a year into your relationship, celebrating this day together felt nothing short of surreal.

When the car finally pulled into his building’s private garage, you followed him up to his penthouse. As soon as you stepped inside, the soft scent of amber and cedarwood and cinnamon greeted you, enveloping you like a warm hug. The space was immaculate but still inviting, every detail reflecting Lewis’s refined yet cozy taste. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering London skyline, but your attention was drawn to the setup near the fireplace: a nest of plush blankets and pillows, their edges catching the soft glow of the flames, and a small black box wrapped neatly with a satin ribbon sitting in the center.

“Planning to smother me with luxury tonight?” you teased, slipping off your coat and draping it over a nearby chair.

He shot you a sidelong glance, his lips curling into that signature dimpled smile. “Only if you let me.”

Crossing the room, he picked up the box and handed it to you with both hands, his tone softening. “Happy birthday.”

You sank down onto the blankets, crossing your legs as you carefully untied the ribbon. The room seemed to hold its breath as you lifted the lid, revealing a delicate gold necklace nestled inside. The pendant was sleek and minimalist, the numbers 2040 shimmering in the firelight—your ages this year, intertwined in a way that felt both simple and profound.

You ran your fingers over the numbers, the cool metal warming under your touch. “Lewis…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at him, emotions you couldn’t quite name rising in your chest.

He knelt in front of you, his hands steady as he unclasped the necklace. “I wanted you to have something to remember this year by” he murmured, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Our first birthday together. The first of many, hopefully.”

The necklace was cool against your skin as he fastened it around your neck, his fingers brushing against the nape of your neck in a way that sent a shiver through you.

“Cheesy” you managed to say, though your voice wavered slightly. “Really cheesy.”

He leaned back, a slow, confident smile spreading across his face. “You love it.”

“Maybe” you admitted, your lips curving into a soft smile. “You’re still ridiculous, though. You know that, right?”

He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Only for you, love. Only for you.”

And in that moment, as the firelight danced across his features and the weight of the necklace settled warmly against your chest, you knew this was a birthday you’d never forget.

The crackle of the fire filled the space as silence stretched between you, comfortable and unspoken. He reached out, his fingers brushing along your cheek with a tenderness that made your breath catch. The air between you felt charged, thick with something unnameable yet impossible to ignore. He didn’t speak, but his gaze said everything. It was the kind of look that promised a night you’d carry with you long after the embers of the fire died out.

Wordlessly, he offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet. Your bodies moved in sync, a slow dance as he guided you away from the cozy setup near the fireplace. The city lights spilled across the polished floors of the penthouse, casting soft, flickering reflections. The world outside felt miles away, as if time had bent itself around the two of you, creating a space that existed only for this moment.

When you reached the edge of the couch, he paused, his hand slipping from yours to settle lightly on your waist. The tension between you buzzed like a live wire, your breaths shallow and synchronized as you stood inches apart. He reached up, his thumb brushing against the gold pendant resting at your collarbone.

“This suits you” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, deep and velvety.

You tilted your head, meeting his eyes. “You’re biased” you teased softly, though the words came out shakier than you’d intended.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Damn right I am” he said, his fingers trailing from the necklace to the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

And then, finally, he kissed you

The first kiss was thoughtful, like he was savoring every second of you. His lips were warm, soft, yet firm in their intent, coaxing a response that set your nerves alight. The faint taste of wine lingered on his tongue as he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck while the other settled firmly on your waist.

When he pulled back just enough to look at you, your lips tingled from the contact. The smirk that spread across your face was full of mischief, your eyes glittering in the dim light. “You know” you began, your voice sultry but teasing, “I’ve never had birthday sex with an old man before.”

Lewis stilled for half a second, then let out a deep, throaty chuckle, his dimple flashing in a way that made your pulse skip. “Old man?” he repeated, his voice dripping with mock indignation. “You’re really leaning into this, aren’t you?”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “I mean, forty’s practically dinosaur age. Should I grab your reading glasses before we get started?”

The laugh that followed was low and dangerous, his grip on your waist tightening as he tugged you flush against him. “Keep that up y/n” he murmured, his tone dropping to a husky rasp that sent a shiver down your spine, “this so-called old man is about to ruin you.”

Your grin widened, your fingers trailing along the line of his jaw. “Bold words for someone who’s practically collecting a pension.”

He responded without hesitation, his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dipped even lower. “You’re about to love this ‘old man dick’ sweetheart.”

You laughed a bit then your breath hitched in your throat, your teasing façade faltering for a split second. Before you could come up with a retort, he claimed your mouth again, the kiss harder this time, more insistent. His hands explored your body with a practiced precision that made your skin hum in anticipation.

When he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. “Pretty strong for a grandpa” you teased breathlessly, but your voice cracked with laughter as he spun you around, his mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the curve of your neck.

“You talk a big game” he shot back, his words muffled against your skin, “but let’s see if you can handle me”

By the time he carried you into the bedroom, the world beyond those walls didn’t exist. The room was bathed in soft streaks of silver light from the city below, the faint hum of life outside muffled by the thick glass of the windows. But the only thing you were aware of was him—the heat radiating from his body, the controlled strength in his movements, the way his touch left trails of fire wherever his hands and lips explored.

The bed was impossibly soft beneath you, though you barely noticed as he leaned over you, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath. His hands moved with a tantalizing slowness, fingers skimming along the hem of your dress before sliding it up, inch by inch, until you felt the cool air against your skin.

“You look stunning” he murmured, his voice reverent but laced with heat as his eyes roamed over you. “Better than I deserve, really.”

You arched a brow, your lips curving into a smirk. “Glad you’re finally admitting it.”

He let out another low chuckle, the sound vibrating through you as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Smart mouth” he murmured, his voice dark and teasing. “Let’s see how long you can keep that up.”

And just like that, words became irrelevant. The moments following were a blur of heat and sensation, a symphony of whispered confessions and breathless laughter that gave way to moans and the sound of tangled sheets. You both lay on the bed bare and craving each other beyond measure. His fingers traced a feather-light path down your collarbone, causing you to shiver despite the lingering warmth between you. He followed that trail with his lips, kissing each spot softly before moving lower. You arched into him, your nails raking gently across his back as his mouth found the sensitive curve of your breast.

His touch was both commanding and tender, guiding you with a confidence that left no doubt he knew exactly how to unravel you. His tongue swirled around your nipple, the teasing flick a jolt of electricity straight to your core. A gasp escaped you, your fingers tangling in his braided hair as he lavished the tender bud with attention. His hand mirrored the action on your other breast, kneading with just the right amount of pressure.

As he continued his sensual care on your breasts, his other hand wandered lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. His fingers parted your folds, stroking through your slick heat with agonizing slowness. You moan in relief as you finally felt the touch in the place you’ve been wanting all night.

"Shit y/n you’re so wet for me already” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. His fingers continued their teasing rhythm, circling your clit but never quite touching it directly. The taunting motion had your hips lifting helplessly, searching for more contact. “Gotta give my best for my birthday boy” you say with a teasing smile on your face

"Mmm, seems like someone's eager tonight" he teased breathlessly, your fingers tightening their grip in his hair. Arching again, you pressed harder against his teasing fingertips, desperate for relief. "Well stop teasing and fuck me already" you demanded, your voice thick with desire.

A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest as he broke away from your breasts, his eyes meeting yours with an intense, knowing gaze. "How dare you talk to the birthday boy like that?” he chuckled mocking you, finally pressing directly against your clit, making you gasp. "I have plans for you though. I can’t let you get away with making fun of all night baby.”

"And what plans would those be?" you managed to ask between panting breaths, your body winding tighter with each skilled movement of his fingers. He didn't answer with words, instead capturing your mouth in a searing kiss as his fingers continued their expert dance.

His tongue slid against yours in a mimicking what his fingers were doing below, making you moan into his mouth. Then, suddenly, he slid two of his thick, tattooed fingers deep inside you, his thumb still circling your clit.

The dual sensations had your back arching off the bed, breaking the kiss as you let out a loud moan. The feeling making you almost salivate "Oh god” you gasped, your body clenching around his fingers, desperate for more. "More…” you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need more..."

He complied with a wicked grin, pumping his fingers faster and harder, the wet sounds of your pussy filling the air as he drove you closer to the edge. "Like this baby?" he growled, his forehead pressed against yours.

"Yes” you exhaled, your body trembling as he hit that perfect spot inside you. The wet sounds of your arousal turing you on more, —if that was even possible — your body craved even more of him. "Uuh but It's not enough” you wailed, writhing beneath him. "I need you, not your fingers” you say grabbing his shoulder. He chuckled darkly, slowly pulling his fingers out.

He didn’t make you wait another second, his movements efficient as he stripped away the last barriers between your bodies. Each piece of clothing fell to the floor in a whisper, leaving him bare before you—a vision of strength and heat. His hands returned to your thighs, firm but tender as he guided them around his waist, his touch igniting sparks across your skin.

The anticipation was almost unbearable, the space between you charged with unspoken hunger. His body hovered over yours, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. He softly brushed his hands along your thighs, lined himself up with you, his thick length brushing against your dripping entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

When he finally thrusts forward, the world seemed to shift. One powerful motion had him burying himself inside you, stretching you in a way that stole your breath. Your back arched instinctively, your body surrendering to the sensation of being completely filled. The exquisite pressure was both overwhelming and perfect, a mix of fullness and connection that sent shockwaves rippling through you.

“This better?” he rasped, his voice thick and gravelly, the sound vibrating through your chest. His hands gripped your hips, grounding you as he pulled back just enough to make you ache for more, only to stroke back in with a slow pace that left you trembling.

A choked moan escaped your lips, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself against the onslaught of sensation. “Oh yes” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, but the desperate edge in it said everything.

Lewis tilted his head, a smug grin curling at the corners of his lips as he watched your reaction. “You feel so good baby” he murmured, his hips setting a steady rhythm. Each thrust was felt like a piece of heaven, his movements slow enough to let you feel every inch of him, but powerful enough to leave you breathless.

The way he fucked you was relentless, the friction and heat building with every thrust. His body was pressed tightly to yours, his heavy, hot body brushing against your chest with each motion, his breath hot against your neck. The room seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, wrapped in a haze of heat, desire, and the raw, primal connection that tethered you together.

As he drove deeper, his grip on your hips tightened, his thumbs pressing into your soft skin as if anchoring himself in the moment. “Look at me” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. “I want you to look at me while I fuck you”

Your gaze locked with his, the intensity in his dark eyes making your pulse quicken. Every thrust sent ripples of pleasure through you, the rhythm building as he took you higher, each movement precise, unrelenting, and filled with purpose.

“Does that feel good?” he asked again, his voice rough and laced with amusement as he pushed deeper still, watching the way your body arched to meet his.

“Perfect” you managed to gasp, your nails raking down his back as he buried himself fully inside you once more.

Your voice broke into a raw, unrestrained scream, your nails carving crescents into the taut muscles of his back. Each thrust sent a wave of sensation through your body, igniting every nerve like a live wire. Lewis gripped you with unrelenting force, his fingers digging into your flesh as though he never wanted to let go. His pace was punishing and purposeful, each stroke a calculated attempt to claim every inch of you.

The slickness of your arousal coated his dick, allowing him to move in and out with sinful ease, his deep, guttural groans echoing your breathless cries. His chest brushed against yours, the heat of his skin matching the fire coursing through your veins. “Feel that?” he rasped into your ear, guiding your hand to you lower abdomen. “You feel where I am inside you y/n?” You could feel him beating at your insides underneath your hands, leaving you dizzy.

You gasped, your body tightening around him at his words. But then, a bold thought slipped from your lips before you could stop it. “I wanna ride you.”

His movements stilled for a heartbeat, and then a wicked smile curved his lips. “I love it when you take control” he murmured, his voice filled with equal parts admiration and desire. Without hesitation, he grabbed your waist and flipped you onto him with fluid ease, his strength sending a thrill down your spine.

Before you could catch your breath, you were astride him, your thighs pressed against his hips as his dick filled you completely. The angle was new, deeper, more intense, and it stole the air from your lungs. His hands found your breasts, warm palms cupping the sensitive curves. His thumbs teased your nipples, the gentle pinch sending shocks of pleasure down your spine.

“Go on” he said, his eyes dark with need. “Show me what you’ve got.”

His words spurred you on, your hands bracing against his chest as you began to move. The muscles beneath your fingers flexed with each thrust as he met your rhythm, his body rising to match every roll of yours. The friction sent waves of heat cascading through you, and the soft, slick sounds of your bodies moving together only added to the intoxicating haze of the moment. You couldn’t believe how wet you are, soaking both of the lower extremities with each thrust out.

His hands slid from your breasts to your waist, guiding your movements but leaving you firmly in control. “There you baby” he groaned, his voice ragged. “Take your dick. It’s all yours.”

Your head tipped back as you found your pace, the pleasure building higher with each roll of your hips. Your long hair cascaded down your back, brushing against his hands as they roamed over your curves. His eyes roamed your body, drinking in the sight of you like a man starved.

“Damn” he muttered, his grip tightening on your waist. “You’re so fucking sexy like this.”

You smirked, leaning forward just enough for your lips to hover near his ear. “I know” you teased and winked, your voice breathy but still laced with confidence.

Lewis chuckled, his hands sliding lower to grip your hips again, the movement sending sparks racing through you. “Cocky tonight, huh?” he challenged, him grinding sharply to meet you, making you cry out, shutting you up.

You threw your head back once more, your long hair tumbling in waves down your back, glinting in the dim light as it swayed with your every movement. You rolled your body with an urgency born of desire, rising and falling as you took him deeper than ever before. Each motion sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, a delicious mixture of control and submission as you rode him with abandon.

Lewis’s hands were strong on your waist, his grip possessive as he guided your movements. He met your grinding with powerful thrusts of his own, his body rising from the bed to drive deeper into you, each stroke aimed with precision that left you trembling. The thickness of his dick stretched you in all the right ways, hitting that sweet, devastating spot inside you that made your vision blur.

A whimper escaped your lips, followed by a breathless moan, your sounds blending with the wet, rhythmic noises of your bodies colliding. The heady scent of sweat and sex filled the air, mingling with the sound of his raspy breaths and your own needy cries.

“Faster” you panted, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“Faster?” he repeated, his tone laced with mischief as one large hand left your waist and came down on your ass with a sharp smack. The sting rippled through you, blending seamlessly with the pleasure pulsing in your core, making your lower body jerk forward involuntarily. “Yeah baby” he teased breathlessly, his other hand sliding up your spine, grounding you. “Show me how bad you want it.”

Your body responded instinctively, moving with even greater speed. Your breasts bounced wildly with every rise and fall, catching his dark, hungry eyes as he watched you lose yourself above him.

“Ahh yes” he groaned, his dick throbbing inside you, pulsing in perfect time with the frantic rhythm of your bodies. His forehead glistened with sweat, his curls damp and clinging to his temples as he strained to meet every furious motion of your hips. The connection between you was electric, every nerve alight with pleasure and the sheer power of his presence beneath you.

Another sharp slap landed on your ass, making you gasp and cry out. “Fuck, you feel so good like this” he muttered, his hand immediately sliding to your lower back, pressing you forward as his other tangled in your hair. With a firm tug, he pulled you down to meet his lips in a bruising kiss.

The moment your mouths collided, the intensity between you flared brighter. His tongue slid against yours, his kiss just as commanding and relentless as the way he filled you. You could taste the taste of your lips on his lips, feel the tension in his jaw as his teeth grazed against your bottom lip, nipping just enough to make you gasp.

The heat of his chest against yours, the strength of his hands controlling your movements, and the way his body seemed to melt perfectly with yours—all of it was too much and not enough at the same time. The world narrowed to the two of you, the bed creaking beneath your combined weight as you pushed each other further, faster, harder.

“Uh- Fuck- Ah-“ he groaned against your lips, his voice raw and raspy.

“Look at you, riding your dick” he rasped, his voice low and raw as he pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every labored breath. “Shit” curse fell from his lips like a confession, a whisper, the heat in his gaze burning into you.

He continued to fuck you, mirroring your movements to create the ultimate pleasure, thrust for thrust, the relentless rhythm sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. His fingers dug into your hips with such force you could feel the delicious pressure biting into your insides, a possessive mark you knew would linger long after this moment. “Harder” he growled, his voice thick with need and dominance.

The command sent a spark through you, your body responding instinctively. Letting out a desperate whimper, you adjusted your angle, planting your knees more firmly against the mattress for leverage. You began to slam down on him with every ounce of strength you could muster, taking him deeper with each thrust, the sensation of his dick filling you, driving you wild.

The room filled with the sharp, rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin, a symphony of raw passion that echoed in the air around you. Your cries mixed with his groans, creating a harmony of pleasure that left no space for anything else. His thick length hit all the right spots inside you, the perfect angle making stars burst behind your tightly closed eyelids.

“Yeeaahh there you go” he groaned, his voice a mixture of awe and desperation as his hands tightened their grip on your ass, guiding your movements. “That’s it baby, just like that.

But then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he shifted. With a sudden, fluid movement, he flipped you onto your stomach, his strength effortlessly handling your body like it was meant to be molded beneath his touch. The cool sheets met your flushed skin, contrasting with the fiery heat coursing through your veins.

Pulling your hips up, he positioned you on your knees, presenting your ass to him. A dark, appreciative growl rumbled in his chest as he took in the sight before him. “Such a perfect view” he murmured, his hands roaming over the curve of your ass, spreading you wide as he admired the way your glistening entrance twitched with anticipation.

The moment of teasing felt like an eternity. His dick, still slick and throbbing, brushed against your folds, the tip barely pressing into you before pulling back. Each pass sent a shiver down your spine, the anticipation coiling tightly in your core.

“Lewis” you breathed sound a plea that you couldn’t hold back. Your voice trembling with need, and murmured as your face a pressed into the mattress.

He chuckled darkly, his hands gripping your back firmly as he finally aligned himself with you. “I know baby. I’ve got you.”

“You feel so fucking good” he groaned, his voice thick with need as he pulled back slowly, only to slam back into you with even more force.

His strong hands grounding you as he pulled you closer, guiding the rhythm of your bodies. The new angle shifted something deep inside you, igniting a fire that spread through every nerve. Each powerful thrust sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, leaving you breathless and trembling.

The mattress beneath you dipped with every movement, your breasts brushing against the soft fabric as if it, too, responded to the intensity between you. Your fingers fisted the sheets in desperation, the cool texture a stark contrast to the heat building between your entwined bodies. The air was thick with the sounds of your connection. You reached your hand behind you to touch him, and feel even more connected as he filled you completely, over and over again.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room, bouncing off the walls and blending with the raw rhythm of your bodies. Each powerful thrust sent a jolt of electricity through you, the intensity building with every movement. The warmth of his body against yours, the sound of his ragged breathing, and the unrelenting pace all combined to set your senses alight.

“Yes, just like that” you gasped, your voice trembling with urgency as your body tightened around him, instinctively pulling him deeper. The delicious pressure and friction threatened to make you cum then and there, a tantalizing ache pooling in your core as you teetered on the edge of release. The sheer intimacy of the moment wrapped around you, pushing you closer to the brink with every heartbeat.

His hand slid around to find your most sensitive clit, his fingers skillfully matching the rhythm of his relentless movements. The instant he touched you, a surge of pleasure shot through your body, your breath catching as the tension within you coiled tighter. The precise pressure and timing were too much to bear, every nerve alive and burning with sensation.

The world seemed to fall away as you tipped over the edge, a wave of pure ecstasy crashing over you. Your body shaking uncontrollably, your inner walls clenching and pulsing around him in perfect harmony with the pleasure consuming you. He didn’t falter, fucking you fiercely, extending your orgasm, his movements guiding you through every second of the overwhelming climax.

His release finally hit, a deep groan tearing from his chest as he buried himself to the hilt, flooding your insides with his warmth. The sensation of him pulsing inside you sent a shiver down your spine, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your own climax. Slowly, he collapsed on top of you, his weight settling over you like a comforting blanket, grounding you in the moment.

His breaths were hot and heavy against your neck, his lips brushing your skin with every exhale. He nuzzled closer, his arms curling around you protectively as though he couldn’t bear to let go. “That’s my favorite position you know” he murmured, his voice low and husky, tinged with the remnants of his pleasure.

You chuckled softly, your fingers threading through his damp hair. “I figured. You get a pretty nice view from back there.”

He grinned against your skin, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. But then he paused, his hands beginning to roam over your curves with a possessive, thoughtful touch. His fingers traced the dip of your waist, and the swell of your hips.

“I think” he started, his voice trailing off as he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you. His gaze was soft but smoldering, a wicked gleam dancing in his dark eyes. “I think we need to try something new.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh? You’ve already got me questioning my ability to walk tomorrow, and now you want to add something else to the mix?”

His laugh was low and rich as he sat up, pulling you along with him. The ease with which he maneuvered your body made your heart race, and before you knew it, you were straddling his lap, your arms looping instinctively around his neck. His large hands settled on your waist, pulling you flush against him so that your bare skin pressed together.

“Have you ever done reverse cowgirl?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual, though the intensity in his gaze gave away his excitement.

You hesitated, the memory of past attempts flickering in your mind. “Yes” you admitted, your voice softer now, “but I didn’t like it before.” You avoided his eyes momentarily, not wanting to disappoint him.

His thumb brushed soothing circles over your side, his touch gentle as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “But you haven’t tried it with me” he said, his voice warm and confident, laced with a promise you couldn’t ignore. “Trust me, it’ll feel good. After I’m inside you, lean forward and grab my ankles, okay?”

His reassuring tone made you relax, the corners of your mouth lifting in a small, trusting smile. “That sounds kind of funny,” you teased lightly, “but I trust you, so I guess we can try it.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss you deeply, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt. As his lips moved against yours, his hands slid down to grip your body, the promise of something exciting lingering in the air between you.

With a sudden, fluid motion, he shifted your body effortlessly, turning you until you were straddling him in reverse cowgirl. Your knees sank into the soft mattress as you leaned forward, just as he instructed, your fingers brushing his ankles for balance. The new position stretched your muscles in an unfamiliar but exhilarating way, your body arching beautifully as you adjusted.

“Good baby” he purred, his voice molten as his hands slid up your thighs, his fingers sprawled out. His grip was firm yet gentle, guiding your movements with unspoken confidence. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly as you began to move, rocking your hips experimentally. The sensation of his dick filling you from this angle was different—intense, consuming, and deeply satisfying. You could feel every vein, ridge and curve. Slowly at first, you rose and sank onto him, each downward thrust drawing a low, guttural sound from his throat.

From behind, he had the perfect view, and he was mesmerized. His eyes rolled over the curve of your spine, the way your hair spilled down your back like a silken waterfall, and the hypnotic motion of your pussy taking him in, again and again. “Goddamn” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and lust, “just look at you.”

He couldn’t help himself, his hands roaming over your waist and back before sliding back to cup the roundness of your ass. He spread your cheeks apart slightly, his thumbs grazing your skin as he watched himself disappear inside you, the sight driving him wild. “Fuck” he groaned, his grip tightening. “Your ass looks incredible like this.”

The raw appreciation in his tone made you move more, confidence growing with every word of praise. You rolled your hips, adjusting the angle to take him even deeper, and the effect was immediate. His sharp inhale and the low curse he muttered sent a thrill through you, spurring you on.

“You feel so damn good” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. His warm hands traveled up to your waist, wrapping around you firmly as he began to meet your movements with upward thrusts, burying himself even harder and deeper. The slick sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, accompanied by his low groans and your breathy moans.

“Fuck fuck fuck “ he growled, his voice breaking with raw need. “I can’t get enough of this pussy.” His hands returned to your ass, spreading you wider to take him fully, the sight of your stretched entrance swallowing his girthy length repeatedly making his restraint fray. “This feels so fucking good oh my go-“ you moan out, gripping his ankles.

The angle, the intensity, the way his hands guided you—it all combined into a dizzying blend of pleasure that left you utterly undone, completely lost in the rhythm you shared. His words were a heady mix of filth and reverence, fueling the fire building deep within you.

He moved with an intensity, his pace quickening as he drove into you hard, each powerful thrust echoing through your body. The rhythmic sound of your bodies meeting filled the room once again, a heady mix of his labored breathing, deep groans of pleasure, and the unmistakable slickness of your shared desire. His grip on your hips tightened possessively, his fingers digging into your skin as if anchoring himself to the moment.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum so deep inside you” he growled, his voice rough and low, thick with need. The promise sent a shiver through you, igniting something primal as you moved together, his hips rising to meet each of your movements in perfect synchronization. “Keep going like that, yes” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. “Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Your body obeyed instinctively, the rhythm growing more urgent as the tension between you built. The impact of your bodies meeting sent so much pleasure through you, your chest heaving as your breasts moved with every motion. The heat between you burned hotter, his body taut beneath yours as his control began to stray. You could feel him getting closer with every deep, purposeful thrust, his need pushing you both toward the inevitable.

“Take it all baby. Fuck, I wish you could see how good you look right now” he growled, his voice rough with a mix of desire and command. His eyes locked into you as he watched your body move against him, the sight of you bouncing on his dick driving him to the brink of madness. The way your tight walls clenched around him was almost too much, pulling him deeper into a haze of pure, unrelenting need.

He felt your release building, the way your body trembled and tightened betraying just how close you were. “Not yet” he murmured, his voice strained, though it was as much for himself as it was for you. He was holding on by a thread, the fire in his core threatening to erupt. Truthfully, he’d been on the edge since he got you into this position, but he refused to give in just yet. He wanted to savor every second, knowing there were still so many rounds to come.

He leaned forward slightly, his lips brushing your ear as he rasped, “Keep going Y/n. Don’t stop. I know you can”

The raw command in his tone sent a shiver through you, spurring you on.

His hands moved over your body eagerly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your sides as if anchoring you to him. He explored every inch of you with reverence and hunger—tracing the curve of your thighs, squeezing your waist, sliding his hands up to press against your stomach as if trying to pull you closer, impossibly close, onto his throbbing dick. His breathing turned ragged, his words dissolving into guttural grunts as he fought to hold back, desperate to let this moment stretch out just a little longer.

Finally, with a raw, loud, groan of pleasure, he gave in to his climax, his body shuddering as his release overtook him. His dick pulsed deep inside you, each wave of ecstasy pouring into your trembling pussy. His arms locked around you with a possessive intensity, holding you firmly in place as he emptied himself into your eagerly waiting depths, refusing to let even an inch of space separate you.

For a moment, time stilled. His chest heaved against your back, his ragged breaths hot against your skin as he stayed buried inside you, savoring the aftershocks of pleasure that rippled through both of you. His grip on your waist softened slightly, shifting into something more tender, his hands brushing over your skin as though grounding himself in the intimacy of the moment.

He pressed his face into your hair, the scent of you pulling a low, satisfied hum from deep in his chest. “Damn” he murmured softly, his lips grazing the back of your neck as he nuzzled closer. “I fucking love you, Y/N,” he confessed, his voice laced with both affection and raw desire.

His arms remained wrapped around you, holding you close as the heat between you lingered, neither of you willing to break the connection just yet.

Time washed away, each moment blending into the next until you collapsed against his chest, your skin slick with the lingering heat of passion. His arm wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing soft circles along your back as you rested your head against him. His heart beat steadily beneath your cheek, a soothing rhythm that grounded you in the aftermath of the whirlwind you’d just shared.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and gentle. “Best birthday yet?” you asked, your voice low and slightly drowsy but still tinged with that familiar mischievous edge.

He let out a satisfied hum, nuzzling against him. “Definitely. Though I’ve decided—next year, I’m getting my gift first.”

Your soft laugh rumbled through his chest, and you felt the vibration as much as you heard it. “We’ll see about that, love. You might have to pop a few viagra next year.”

You couldn’t help but grin, your eyelids growing heavy as the warmth of his body and the sound of his voice lulled you to the edge of sleep. “Viagra or not , now you’re stuck with this old man.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you murmured, your voice a soft promise as he held you close, the city lights casting a gentle glow over the two of you.

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : the fever

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : blurb based on this request!!!! or hamzah takes care of reader while she's sick

mickey speaks : i hope u enjoyyyy, more of my hamzah works can be found here <3 also i’m updating my tag list so pls lmk if you’d liked to be tagged in any fics in the future

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

there's no worse way to start your morning than in a pool of your own sweat and reading a thermometer displaying 101.2°F.

without any strength to attempt to leave your bed and no appetite to drive you to perseverance, you're left slumped lazily against your hot pillow.

just as your blinks begin to slow and your eyes droop low, an irritating sequence of vibrations beam from your phone. you pinch your eyes and let out a slightly dramatic but definitely necessary whine that turns into a groan as you stretch your arms far above your head.

you take your time, hoping whoever is waiting on the other line takes the hint by the forth ring that you’re busy drowning in your misery. you open your eyes just a peek before the ringing completely stops.

a relieved sigh comes over you as you lift your plush comforter over your head in hopes of reducing any natural light your windows allow to shine into your cluttered room.

it rings once more.

“fuck!” you let a blip of rage slip out in a seething tone, kicking your feet against your mattress harshly (an immature way of expressing yourself which makes you feel fifteen again; annoyed by your old obnoxious alarm clock).

you pull the oversized covers from your face and lean over to fiddle and grab your phone from its charging dock on your jagged, wooden night stand.

your tight expression is slightly shattered when you see the large text and tiny image in the corner of the facetime call displaying your boyfriend’s name and face.

you swipe to answer, falling back onto your pillow and covering your torso with the comforter once more (after having stripped of any clothing throughout the sleepless night).

your pouty face goes to the corner of the call as hamzah displays largely across your screen. he’s set his phone on top of his dashboard, still focused on actively driving when you answer.

“heyy, whatcha’ doing? haven’t responded to my texts at all, i was gettin’ worried..” his tongue plays with the gum in his mouth, popping multiple tiny bubbles at once.

your voice gives an unexpected voice crack, “i’m doing terrible,” hamzah’s a bit thrown off by your response but you don’t acknowledge his facial expression, instead you rub your eyes, “where are you going?”

“what happened?!” he arrives at a red light and looks at you while he’s stopped, “did you not sleep well? i was on my way to get you- thought we were playin’ pickleball today with martin and mandy.”

“eughhhh, i totally forgot about that- i’ll have to text and tell them i can’t anymore i’m like dyinggg, h. my temperature’s over 100.” you sniffle and groan.

“nah, don’t worry about that i’ll tell ‘em we can’t make it. you just stay put and i’ll be over in like- just a sec, okay?” he keeps glancing over to look at you which you appreciate, though you prefer for him to pay attention- but you don’t necessarily feel like getting into a back in forth with him over his driving habits right now.

“m’kayyyy you’re the best, love you.” you thank him gently, blowing a kiss towards the camera.

“mmm i like hearing that. you’re my favorite.” he smiles to himself, “yeah, um, i’ll see you in a bit- maybe try and get some sleep though, girl?”

“i’ll try,” you whisper.

“okay, be right there, love you.”

✧₊⁺

you’re not sure how long hamzah’s been at your side when you eventually wake up again to him sat next to you, looking through one of your many 2000s magazines.

you tap his knee silently, seemingly in a better mood after some well needed rest and the comfort of waking up in hamzah’s presence.

he displays a faux since of shock, “wow and she’s somehow even prettier when awake!”

you smile and slip your hand under your cheek as you lay and look at him, “hi, when’d you get here?”

he places your magazine down next to him, "got here maybe two hours ago? i stopped by a store and grabbed you some medicine to take and some other essentials like kitkats and iced tea- did you know hilary duff and lindsay lohan had hella back and forth beef??"

you nod, "duh, of course i do! and getting me snacks wowwww you're so perfect, huh?"

hamzah playfully shrugs his arms up and down, "a little somethin' like thattt, just for you."

you laugh but begin to cough uncontrollably, to which hamzah screws his face up in faux disgust; you stare, "thanks."

“nahh i’m playing,” he grabs one of your hands and kisses the back of it, “do you need me to do anything?”

“can you come brush my teeth with me?”

he nods immediately, standing up and picking your body (wrapped delicately in your covers) up and carrying you bridal-style into the bathroom down your skinny hallway.

on the way there you laugh again which leads to another coughing fit which you cover as much as you possibly can. hamzah teasingly stretches you away from him whining out an “eeuuuhhhh!!!” but you are quick to give him a glare that has him giggling and apologizing by curling you back into his broad chest smacking a few million kisses onto your cheek.

you push his face away in warning, “stop it you’re gonna get sick, stupid!!!!”

✧₊⁺

hamzah stands between your legs as you sit on the counter and brush your teeth. he thinks you look like an angel- or maybe a tooth fairy with the suds elegantly surrounding your mouth. despite your runny nose, hot, clammy skin and sleepy eyes, the white comforter manages to compliment your complexion in the most beautiful of ways. the sight in front of him was weirdly so angelic… “so pretty…” he lets his thoughts trickle into the air.

you pause your movements and look up at him starting to grin before scooting to the side and spitting into the sink. he grins and decides to joke with you a bit, scratching the back of his neck and blowing a raspberry into the air next to him, “did i say pretty?? i meant so ….sickly??” he squints his eyes a little trying to figure out where exactly he’s going with this, “because you’ve come down with something…. bad.”

you roll your eyes and shake your head, “it sounds like you want to call me beautiful…” you bat your eyelashes as you quote him through a mouthful of toothpaste and an insane urge to laugh.

hamzah laughs for you and wipes his eyes exclaiming, “enough! let’s wrap this up.”

✧₊⁺

hamzah made you take medicine and eat top ramen with him before you lay back down in bed. now you're lying up against your headboard watching reruns of sabrina the teenage witch with blankets curled up to your chin.

when hamzah finally comes back into your room he knocks twice before stepping into the space; he’s adorned with an arrangement of white tiger lilies in his hand and a small smile on his face.

you’re absolutely shocked, “what the fuck??? h, when’s you have time to get those?!” you prop yourself up and he hands them to you.

“i saw a little shop that was closing up when i was on my way back to my place just now; it’s cute you’d like it,” he moves to lay next to you.

“thank you,” you look at him lovingly, “for everything today; you treat me so well. how were the kitties doin’?”

“mhmm, they’re fine missin’ you though.” hamzah feels a since of pride from your words, taking the flowers from your hand and setting them on your nightstand (next to a roll of toilet paper you’ve used for your runny nose and a few empty water bottles). he turns back to you and brings his hand up to hold your face, “you’re so easy to treat well.” he leans closer to your face and your eyes shift down to his lips before you’re pulling away.

you playfully scoff and shake your head no, “nuh uh, i’m not getting you sick!”

“baby i’ve been around you all day and feel fine!! my immune system is the best there is, ‘promise.” he traces your lips with his thumb gently.

“you’re sooo…” you mumble the scold, turn on your side to move away from him.

he leans over you giggling, “amazing?” he kisses your cheek. “perfect?” another closer to your lips, “you’ve said them all before!” he sets a sweet kiss to your pouty lips before retreating back lie against the pillow next to you.

“i was gonna say needy but those work as well…” you grumble and smile to your self, “hold me?” you ask a bit louder, peeking over your shoulder to see hamzah drop his phone and immediately give you the attention you want from him, nuzzling you close and kissing your neck softly.

✧₊⁺

a few weeks later via Out of Character on YouTube

martin: yeah, and you’ve been freaking sick the past week and a half! how was that?

hamzah: very whimsical and magical. i’m kidding obviously it sucks and y/n was actually the one to give it to me! i’m not blaming but i am.

martin: i think that’s the worst part about having a girlfriend like if she’s sick you’re gonna get sick too- mandy’s like a freaking warrior though she’s never sick. it’s actually really odd.

hamzah: it’s because she’s a nurse, i think

martin: actually dude?

hamzah: yeah i read about it (he’s lying)

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Imagine Spencer looking after you when you get hurt on a stakeout

You'd been paired with a local officer, tasked with a night stakeout at a farm. The pair of you were supposed to watch for any activity, and report back any movement.

Which of course went pear shaped when the young, ambitious man you'd been placed with identified a missing person being led out of the main building. Faster than you could react to stop him, he'd thrown himself out the door, gun raised and ready and attempted to subdue the men.

Instead of impulsively running after him, you chose to stay back and call for help. Simultaneously pressing the distress button on the device Garcia had rather ingeniously insisted you all carry.

It pinged your location to all members of the team, and alerted them that whoever pressed it was in trouble.

Reaching the sheriff's department, you reported the activity and the officers mistake. Watching as they turned on him, you let out a gasp when one of the suspects didn't wait for him to finish the rest of his demands. Instead in the blink of an eye shot him, three times.

"Agent? Agent? Can you hear me, what's going on there?" The Detective who'd answered the phone asked you.

"They just killed him." You breathed, watching as they dragged his body away, the missing boy cowering against the side of the house. Before another one of the suspects grabbed onto him and dragged him away.

"Have they seen you? Are you compromised?"

"Maybe... I don't know. They-" you were cut off by the passenger door opening, revealing one of the men you'd been watching earlier that night.

Before you could reach for your gun, which was stupidly placed on the dashboard, he grabbed you by your hair and dragged you out of the car. Slamming you down onto the ground roughly, even your kevlar vest couldn't stop the air being knocked out of you.

Promptly followed by a hard kick to your stomach, making your chest go into spasm. Gasping in air, you could barely focus on where the next hit was coming from.

***

After what seemed like an eternity he finally let up, shoving you back into the gravel of the driveway and stalking off. Barking orders at the other men who had appeared from the shadows.

"Let's go boys, we need to ship out to location Tango. Got it?.. Let's go then. Her buddies will be here any moment." He called out, sparing a glance back to you.

Feeling entirely too conscious, you dared not move, not fancying another punch to the face.

Multiple cars started up and disappeared over the hills to the back of the property.

You curled onto your side, and tried to breathe in some even breaths. Trying to not focus on the pain all over, you managed to get yourself on all fours. Realising at some point he pulled your bulletproof vest off.

Maneuvering yourself so you were slowly leaning back against the tyre of the truck you were doing the stakeout in. The light from the houses and extra that had been switched on gave you a good look around. And also at yourself. Seeing there were blood splatters on your shirt. You tried not to imagine what you looked like.

Closing your eyes for a moment, taking slow deep breaths in to try and calm your racing heart.

Hearing the sound of gravel under tyres, you instantly panicked. A unexpected wave of adrenaline coarsed through you, giving you the energy needed to get yourself off the floor and in a better position to defend yourself in.

"Y/n?" Hotch's concerned shout fell of deaf ears as you scrambled to get into the car and grab your gun.

"Hey, no, no, no. It's us, calm down." A familiar voice soothed. Intercepting you and stopping your hand before it could pick up your weapon, that you hadn't had the chance to grab.

You hissed and winced as he touched you left wrist, a sickeningly sharp pain shooting up your arm.

"I'm sorry. What hurts?"

"Spence?" Seeing his face relaxed you instantly, "we need to be quick, they literally just left. Over that ridge up there. If we go now we could catch up with them."

Leaning down to get a look at you, some of his wild hair falling out of place as he fussed over you.

"You're not going anywhere, okay? You need to be seen to, what the hell happened? We got the distress ping and ran out the door."

He intercepted your attempt to grab the keys in the ignition. Taking them from you and putting them in his coat pocket.

"That stupid boy got himself killed. He ran over there, gun out, demanding they gave up the boy and that they were under arrest... There were three of them! To one of him, he was never going to subdue all of them."

"You did everything right, okay? He should never have tried to go after them. This group is far too organised for that."

"But I just sat here. I watched it happen, I-"

"Stop. I won't let you do this to yourself. Did you see the person who attacked you?"

"Yeah, he was young. Green eyes, bit of a beard. Around six-five. Probably mid thirties. Um- he was wearing a yellow plaid shirt with a puffer vest jacket. He had.." You trailed off, a piercing headache making you double over.

"That's amazing, y/n. Come on, the ambulance is over here." He said, curling his arm around your waist and helped you out of the car.

Spying Hotch looking over a map, you pulled away from Spencer and limped over to him. Spencer following close behind holding onto your wrist.

You looked at the map to get your bearings, finding the circled area you were in. You pointed at the hills behind the house.

"Y/n, have you seen a medic?" Aaron asked, frowning at you, one of the few facial expressions he had.

"No she hasn-" Spencer started, but you cut him off.

"They went over this ridge," you paused, steadying yourself on the bonnet of the truck, "if we leave now we could catch them."

"Okay, but you aren't going anywhere until you've been checked out. Reid. Make sure she gets medical attention." Hotch spoke to you and then to Spencer who was hovering worriedly.

"Hotch, please. We might not get another chance like this again." You tried, refusing to move from the car.

"Y/n that's not a suggestion. It's an order. Go." Hotch finalised, nodding to Spencer who supported you as he lightly pulled you back.

The medics met you halfway and started asking you an endless list of questions.

A suspected cracked rib and multiple bones in your wrist, concussion, and bruising all over. You were told to visit the hospital once you were back in the city. They strapped you up and gave you some painkillers.

"Where's Hotch?" You asked as Spencer helped you get down from the ambulance, "I've been checked out, I want to help."

"They've headed back to the station. We can't just go roaming across the hills looking for people in the dark. Y/n, it's too dangerous."

"Spencer, come on. We won't get another chance like this."

"We will, okay? I promise you they won't get away. You think any of us will let you go out like this? You need x-rays, anti-inflammatory medication, potentially a CT scan, and most of all rest. Hotch wants you on two weeks leave, after you leave the hospital."

"No," you exclaimed exasperated, "I need you to do a cognitive interview on me."

"Okay. But not now." He spoke softly, brows furrowed as he looked down at you.

"Why not now?"

"Because you've spent the last ten minutes digging your nails into your palm. And you only do that when you're in pain."

You instantly released your clenched fist. Not realising you'd even being doing it.

Releasing a deep breath, you were finally ready to admit defeat. Nodding, you let him lead you back to the car you'd come in.

The drive back was comfortably silent, Spencer looking over to check on you occasionally. You sighed on arriving at the closest hospital.

"I know okay. But do you really want me lecturing you about all the reasons you should follow the medics advice and get to the hospital immediately?"

Shaking your head, you sent a small smile his way.

[steves-auto-repair-va]

Multiple dashboard lights were found on a Honda Accord – the anti-lock braking system (ABS) light, tire-pressure monitoring system (TPMS) light, and traction control light.

Dashboard lights can be related to each other.

To track down the source, we would begin with a full vehicle scan. From there, we would determine which system could be causing the problem.

[kenzdolls]

MOONLIGHT WATCH . 5.2k

⌗ pairing: tomura shigaraki x villain! reader

⌗ tags: tomura shigaraki x reader, shigaraki x reader, mha x reader, bnha x reader, fluff

⌗ side note: this is based off the song, ‘moonlight’, by ariana grande (I got re-obsessed with it after playing the quarry again)

the stolen sedan's engine ticked as it cooled in the abandoned lot, hidden beneath the shadow of a crumbling overpass. neon signs from a distant convenience store cast intermittent red and blue light through the windshield, painting strange patterns across the dashboard. you shifted in the passenger seat, adjusting your position for what would likely be a long night of surveillance.

the heist had gone to hell in a handbasket. what should have been a simple grab-and-go from a corrupt hero agency's slush fund had turned into a three-hour cat-and-mouse game through the industrial district when the number one hero endeavor's sidekicks had shown up twenty minutes early. the league had scattered like roaches when the lights came on, each taking predetermined escape routes to avoid capture.

now here you were, stuck in a beat-up toyota that tomura had hotwired outside a pachinko parlor, watching for any sign that the heroes were still actively searching the area. the cash from the heist was secured—kurogiri had managed to warp it to safety before the chaos really began—but the heat was still on.

"remind me again why we're the ones stuck on watch duty?" you muttered, wiping condensation from the window with your sleeve.

tomura's pale fingers drummed against the steering wheel, careful to keep his pinky raised. the rhythm was erratic, betraying his lingering adrenaline from the evening's events. "because dabi's too recognizable after that last job—half the city's seen his face on the news. toga's too unpredictable to sit still for more than ten minutes, and twice…" he paused, glancing at you with those distinctive red eyes. "well, you know how twice gets in confined spaces."

you couldn't argue with that logic. jin would probably have multiple conversations with himself, potentially giving away their position to anyone within a three-block radius. "and spinner?"

"keeping watch on the other side of the district with compress." tomura's voice carried that familiar edge of irritation mixed with exhaustion. "we drew the short straws."

"at least we got away with the cash," you said, trying to find a silver lining in the night's chaos.

"barely." his voice was sharp, self-recriminating. "if that number one hero hadn't shown up when he did, if i hadn't miscalculated the patrol schedules…" his grip tightened on the wheel, and you could see the tension radiating through his shoulders like a live wire.

you'd seen this before—tomura's tendency to shoulder the blame for anything that went wrong during league operations. it was a leadership burden he carried with the same intensity he brought to everything else, grinding himself down with responsibility and self-criticism.

"the intel was bad," you pointed out reasonably. "even giran's sources can't account for every variable. heroes change their patterns, schedules get moved around. it happens."

"it shouldn't happen." his voice was quiet but intense. "people depend on me to plan these operations correctly. to keep everyone safe. when i fuck up—"

"when you fuck up, we adapt and overcome," you interrupted. "that's what we did tonight. everyone made it out. no one got captured. mission accomplished."

he turned to look at you, surprise flickering across his features. the intermittent neon light caught the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the scars that mapped his skin like a constellation of old pain. "since when do you give me pep talks?"

"since you look like you're about to decay the steering wheel and leave us stranded in this lovely parking lot until sunrise." you reached over, carefully placing your hand over his on the gear shift, mindful of his quirk. the contact was deliberate, grounding. "you don't have to carry everything alone, you know."

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the distant hum of late-night traffic provided white noise, punctuated by the occasional siren in the distance—probably unrelated to your evening's activities, but still enough to keep you both alert. tomura's hand relaxed under yours, and you felt some of the tension leave his frame.

"i used to think i wanted to destroy everything," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the ambient city sounds. "every person, every building, every system that propped up this false society. complete annihilation. turn it all to dust and start over."

"used to?"

his thumb traced across your knuckles—a gesture so gentle it seemed impossible coming from hands that could turn anything to ash with a thought. "things change. people change what you want to preserve instead of destroy."

your heart did something complicated in your chest, a flutter of warmth that had nothing to do with the car's heating system. these moments of vulnerability from tomura were rare, precious things that he guarded more closely than any league secret. the fact that he was sharing this with you, here in the liminal space between crisis and safety, felt monumentally significant.

"the league's become more than just a means to an end," you said, understanding flooding through you. "it's become home."

"yeah." he paused, his red eyes reflecting the neon light as he looked out at the empty lot. "you've become more than that."

the admission hung in the air between you like a bridge neither of you was sure how to cross. you'd been dancing around whatever this was for months—the lingering glances during strategy meetings, the way he always positioned himself between you and danger during missions, the careful way he touched you when he thought no one was looking. the stolen moments of connection that felt too significant to be mere camaraderie but too fragile to examine too closely.

"tomura—"

"i know it's complicated," he interrupted, his voice gaining that defensive edge again. "i know i'm not exactly ‘partner’ material. i mean, look at me." he gestured vaguely at himself with his free hand. "i'm a walking disaster with a body count that'd make serial killers jealous and abandonment issues that'd keep a therapist busy for decades."

"and i'm a criminal with a rap sheet longer than most people's grocery lists and a quirk that most of society considers villainous by default," you pointed out. "we're both disasters. that's what makes us compatible."

that earned you a small smile—a real one, not the manic grin he wore when planning destruction or the cold smirk he reserved for heroes. this was softer, more genuine, and it transformed his entire face. "compatible disasters?"

"the best kind." you shifted closer, the center console the only thing separating you in the cramped front seat. "besides, i've never been interested in normal. normal is boring. normal doesn't understand what it's like to be unwanted by the world, to have your very existence labeled as wrong."

his free hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing along your cheekbone with infinite care. the gentleness was a stark contrast to the destructive power contained in those fingers, a reminder of the control he maintained around the people he cared about. "how do you always know what to say?"

"years of practice dealing with your dramatic ass."

he laughed—actually laughed—and the sound was warm and genuine in the confined space of the car. it was a sound you'd heard maybe a handful of times, and each occurrence felt like a small victory. "dramatic? me?"

"you literally gave a speech about heroes being false symbols of peace last week while standing on a burning building."

"that was for effect! the visual impact was important for—"

"it was dramatic," you interrupted, grinning. "you had your coat billowing in the wind and everything. very villain-chic."

"villain-chic isn't a thing."

"it is now. i'm making it a thing."

the easy banter felt natural, comfortable in a way that few things did in your chaotic life. this was what you'd been building toward without realizing it—not just the physical attraction or the partnership in crime, but this deeper understanding. you saw him clearly: the rage and pain and desperate need for acceptance that drove him, but also the loyalty, the fierce protectiveness of those he cared about, the brilliant strategic mind that made him a formidable leader despite his youth.

"what are you thinking about?" he asked, noting your contemplative expression.

"just… this. us. how we ended up here."

"in a stolen car on a stakeout?"

"together," you clarified. "despite everything trying to keep us apart. the hero society that labeled us villains, the chaos of our lives, your tendency to overthink everything…"

"i don't overthink—"

"you absolutely overthink. remember the convenience store job two months ago? you planned seventeen different contingencies for buying energy drinks."

"preparation is key to success," he said defensively, but there was amusement in his voice.

"tomura, it was a 7-eleven at two in the morning. the biggest threat was the cashier judging your choice in energy drinks."

"monster energy is a perfectly valid choice."

"it tastes like battery acid mixed with regret."

"you say that like it's a bad thing."

you shook your head, marveling at how easily the conversation flowed between you. with tomura, you could be yourself—not the villain persona you wore for the world, not the carefully constructed mask of competence and control, just… you. sarcastic, opinionated, occasionally ridiculous you.

his expression softened as he watched you, and he leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours. the gesture was intimate, grounding, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "you know what i see when i look at you?"

"what?"

"light," he said simply. "in all this darkness and chaos and destruction, you're like… moonlight. soft and steady and beautiful. something worth protecting instead of destroying."

the nickname sent warmth spreading through your chest, a feeling more intoxicating than any drug. "moonlight?"

"too cheesy?" he pulled back slightly, suddenly self-conscious. "i know it's not very villain-like to be poetic about—"

"no." you caught his hand, intertwining your fingers carefully, always mindful of his quirk. "i like it. though i think you might be the first person to associate me with light instead of darkness."

"their loss," he said firmly. "you've been the light in my darkness since the day you joined the league. i just… i've never been good at saying things like that. emotional stuff. sensei always said sentiment was weakness."

"all for one was wrong about a lot of things," you said gently. "caring about people isn't weakness. it's what makes you human."

"sometimes i wonder if i still am. human, i mean." his voice was quiet, introspective. "after everything i've done, everything i've destroyed… sometimes i feel more like a force of nature than a person."

"you're human," you assured him. "you're sitting here worrying about your team, planning ways to keep them safe, feeling guilty about things beyond your control. that's profoundly human."

"even with these?" he raised his free hand, wiggling his fingers slightly.

"especially with those. your quirk doesn't define you, tomura. how you choose to use it does."

he was quiet for a long moment, processing your words. outside, a cat yowled somewhere in the distance, and a police siren wailed past on a parallel street, but neither of you moved to check if it was related to your activities. this moment felt too important to interrupt.

"i love you," he said suddenly, the words tumbling out like he'd been holding them back for too long. "i know that's fucked up, considering who we are and what we do, but i love your sarcasm and your competence and the way you see through all my bullshit. i love that you're not afraid of me, not afraid of what i can do. i love that you chose to stay with the league even when things got dangerous, that you chose to stay with me even though i'm a mess."

your breath caught in your throat. you'd hoped, suspected, but hearing him say it out loud was something else entirely. "tomura…"

"you don't have to say it back," he rushed to add. "i know it's complicated, and i know i'm not exactly—"

you silenced him by leaning in and pressing your lips to his, a kiss that was gentle and careful and full of unspoken promises. he froze for a moment, surprised, then melted into it, his free hand coming up to tangle in your hair. when you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours again, breathing you in like you were oxygen.

"i love you too," you whispered against his lips. "even when you're overthinking, even when you're being dramatic, even when you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders like some kind of martyred villain."

"martyred villain?"

"it's a thing you do. very brooding and tragic."

"i don't brood."

"you absolutely brood. right now you're brooding about whether you deserve to be loved."

he opened his mouth to protest, then closed it, realizing you were right. "how do you do that?"

"do what?"

"see right through me like that. it's unsettling."

"it's a gift," you said solemnly. "i see through everyone's bullshit. it's why i'm so good at what we do."

"and what we do is…?"

"being disasters together, apparently."

he laughed again, and you felt a surge of pride at drawing the sound from him. "after this is all over," he said quietly, "after we've achieved what we set out to do, after we've torn down this rotten system and built something better… i want to try. to be better. for you."

"you don't have to change for me," you assured him. "i chose you as you are—scars, rage, dramatic speeches and all."

"even if i'm a walking disaster?"

"especially because you're a walking disaster. you're my disaster." you squeezed his hand gently. "besides, what would i do with a well-adjusted boyfriend? i'd be bored out of my mind."

"boyfriend?" the word seemed to surprise him.

"is that… not what this is? because if you're looking for something casual, i should probably mention i'm not really built for casual. i'm more of an all-in, ride-or-die, partners-in-crime-and-life kind of person."

"no, that's… that's exactly what we are," he said quickly. "i just wasn't sure if you'd want to put a label on it. given our circumstances."

"our circumstances being that we're both wanted criminals?"

"among other things, yeah."

"tomura, i've been wanted by the law since i was sixteen. if i was going to let that stop me from living my life, i'd have given up a long time ago." you shifted to face him more fully. "i want this. i want you. all of it—the good, the bad, the completely insane parts of our lives."

the radio crackled to life, interrupting the moment: "status report, lovebirds. everything quiet on the western front?"

tomura groaned, reaching for the radio with obvious reluctance. "we're fine, dabi. no activity to report. all quiet."

"good. try not to fog up the windows too much. we need you to actually watch for cops, not just make out like teenagers."

"how did he—" you started.

"i'm going to kill him," tomura muttered.

"get in line," you said. "right behind me."

"aw, you two are so cute when you're plotting murder together," dabi's voice crackled through the radio. "really brings a tear to my eye. anyway, spinner says the patrol cars have moved to the east side of the district. should be clear for another few hours at least."

"copy that," tomura replied. "we'll maintain position."

"try to keep the pda to a minimum. some of us are trying to work here."

"dabi, i swear to god—"

but the radio had gone silent, leaving you both sitting in the sudden quiet of the car. you looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"i really am going to kill him," tomura said, but there was no real heat in it.

"he's got a point though," you said. "we should probably actually do some watching. you know, the thing we're supposed to be doing."

"right. watching. for cops." but his eyes were still on you, and you could see the reluctance to return to the mundane task of surveillance.

"tell you what," you said, settling back into your seat but keeping your hand in his. "we'll do our job, but we can keep talking. we've got all night, and there's a lot more i want to know about you."

"like what?"

"like what you were like before all this. before the league, before… everything."

something complicated passed across his face. "that's not exactly a happy story, moonlight."

the nickname sent warmth through you again. "i'm not looking for happy. i'm looking for real."

he was quiet for a moment, considering. "i was angry," he said finally. "even as a kid, i was so angry all the time. at my father, at the world, at myself. i felt like i was suffocating, like everything around me was fake and wrong and i was the only one who could see it."

"what changed?"

"i learned i was right," he said simply. "the world is fake and wrong. heroes are just celebrities with good pr. the system is designed to keep people like us down while propping up the privileged few. i wasn't crazy or wrong—i was just seeing clearly."

you squeezed his hand. "that must have been lonely."

"it was. until i found the league. until i found you."

"you found a family," you said. "weird, dysfunctional, murderous family, but family nonetheless."

"yeah." he smiled slightly. "even if they do have terrible timing."

as if summoned by his words, the radio crackled again: "just spotted a patrol car heading your way. might want to look less suspicious."

you both immediately straightened, falling into the roles of a couple on a late-night drive. tomura started the engine, and you pulled out your phone, pretending to look at directions.

"how far out?" tomura asked into the radio.

"two minutes, maybe three. just act natural."

the patrol car appeared at the end of the street, moving slowly, searchlight sweeping across parked cars and alleyways. you held your breath as it approached, but it passed by without stopping, the officers apparently satisfied that you were just another young couple finding privacy in a secluded spot.

"clear," dabi's voice confirmed. "they're moving on to the next sector."

you both exhaled in relief. "well, that was fun," you said.

"define fun."

"adrenaline-inducing terror that didn't end in arrest or death."

"ah yes, my favorite kind of fun."

you settled back into your previous position, the moment of danger having passed but leaving you both more alert. the conversation resumed, but now it was interspersed with periodic checks of the surrounding area, maintaining the pretense of actually doing your job.

"so what about you?" tomura asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "what's your origin story?"

"less dramatic than yours, probably. i was just a kid who didn't fit in anywhere. my quirk manifested early, and it wasn't… socially acceptable. other kids were afraid of me, adults looked at me like i was dangerous. i got labeled as a potential villain before i even understood what that meant."

"self-fulfilling prophecy?"

"something like that. if everyone's going to treat you like a monster anyway, why not embrace it?" you shrugged. "i tried the hero thing for a while, actually. applied to ua and everything."

"what happened?"

"didn't make it past the interview. they took one look at my psychological profile and my quirk assessment and decided i was 'too high-risk for hero work.' guess they were right."

"their loss," tomura said firmly. "you're brilliant at what you do. you see angles other people miss, you adapt faster than anyone i know, and you keep the rest of us grounded when we start getting too caught up in our own chaos."

"is that your way of saying i'm the responsible one?"

"god, no. you're just as chaotic as the rest of us. you're just better at channeling it productively."

"i think that might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me."

"really?"

"really. most people focus on the 'dangerous criminal' part and skip over the 'competent professional' part."

"their loss," he repeated. "you're incredible, moonlight. i mean that."

the sincerity in his voice made your chest tight with emotion. you'd spent so much of your life being seen as a threat, a problem to be managed or eliminated, that having someone see your skills as assets rather than dangers was almost overwhelming.

"thank you," you said quietly. "for seeing me. really seeing me."

"thank you for letting me."

the night stretched on around you, the city settling into its quieter rhythm. occasionally, you'd spot a patrol car or hear sirens in the distance, but none came close enough to be a real concern. mostly, you talked—about the league, about your plans for the future, about small, insignificant things that felt monumentally important in the intimate space of the stolen car.

"can i ask you something?" you said as the digital clock on the dashboard ticked past 3 am.

"anything."

"do you ever regret it? this life, i mean. the choices we've made."

he was quiet for a long moment, considering the question seriously. "i regret some of the collateral damage," he said finally. "innocent people who got caught in the crossfire. but the core of it? fighting against a system that labeled us as villains before we even had a chance to prove otherwise? no. i don't regret that."

"even if we never see the world we're trying to create?"

"even then. at least we tried. at least we stood up and said this isn't acceptable." he looked at you in the dim light. "do you? regret it?"

"no," you said without hesitation. "this life led me to you, to the league. to having a family and a purpose and someone who sees me as more than just my quirk or my criminal record. i can't regret that."

"even if it means we'll never have a normal life? white picket fence, two kids, a dog?"

"tomura, i've never wanted normal. normal is overrated. besides," you grinned, "can you imagine either of us trying to be suburban parents? we'd traumatize the other parents at pta meetings."

"i'd probably accidentally decay the bake sale table."

"i'd definitely get into fights with teachers who tried to tell me our hypothetical kids were 'problematic.'"

"our kids would be problematic. they'd be our kids."

the casual way he said 'our kids' made something flutter in your chest. it was such a normal thing to discuss, so domestic and ordinary, and yet it felt revolutionary coming from him.

"you think about that?" you asked. "having kids someday?"

"sometimes," he admitted. "i never thought i'd want that, but lately… i don't know. the idea of having something to build instead of just things to destroy. someone to teach and protect and love who isn't already damaged by the world."

"you'd be a good father," you said, and meant it. "overprotective as hell, but good."

"you think so?"

"i know so. you take care of all of us, even when we're being idiots. you'd move mountains for your kids."

"we'd move mountains," he corrected. "if we're talking hypothetical future children, we're talking about a partnership."

"partnership," you repeated, liking the sound of it. "i like that better than just boyfriend and girlfriend anyway."

"partners in crime, partners in life?"

"partners in everything."

the radio crackled one more time: "shift change in thirty minutes. you two can wrap up the romantic vigil soon."

"copy that," tomura replied. "any word from the others?"

"all clear across the board. looks like the heat's dying down. we should be good to return to base by morning."

"understood."

you both fell into comfortable silence, knowing your time alone was coming to an end. the night had been revelatory in ways you hadn't expected, stripping away the usual chaos and urgency of your lives to reveal something deeper underneath.

"hey, moonlight?"

"yeah?"

"thanks for tonight. for talking, for listening, for just… being here."

"thanks for letting me in," you replied. "for trusting me with the real you."

"you're the only one who's ever seen the real me and decided to stay."

"i'm not going anywhere," you promised. "we're partners, remember? you're stuck with me."

"good," he said, squeezing your hand. "i wouldn't want it any other way."

as dawn approached and your shift neared its end, you found yourself reluctant to return to the base, to the chaos and noise and constant activity of league life. this quiet intimacy felt precious, worth protecting.

"we should do this again," you said. "not the stakeout necessarily, but… this. just us, talking."

"like a date?"

"like a date. a very unconventional, probably illegal date, but a date nonetheless."

"i'd like that," he said. "though maybe next time we can steal a car with better seats."

"deal. but i'm picking the radio station."

"as long as it's not pop music."

"i make no promises."

he groaned dramatically, but there was fondness in it. "you're going to be the death of me."

"probably," you agreed cheerfully. "but what a way to go."

the radio crackled with spinner's voice: "alright, kids, time to pack it up. compress is sending a portal in five minutes."

"copy that," tomura replied, then turned to you. "ready to go back to reality?"

"with you? i'm ready for anything."

he leaned over and kissed you again, soft and lingering, before starting the car. as you drove toward the rendezvous point, you felt something settle into place inside you—a sense of rightness, of belonging, of having found your person in the most unlikely of circumstances.

whatever came next, whatever challenges the league would face, whatever battles lay ahead, you'd face them together. two disasters, perfectly matched, ready to take on the world.

and if that wasn't love, it was close enough for villains like you.

⌗ taglist: @idexmids @siriuslyginnychase @eleteo125

⌗ mutuals: @haikyuubby @va-3 @tulippanes @luvseraphh @miss-indigen0us @https-bakugo @cupkiki

© property of kenzdolls 2025 — do not copy, steal, or plagiarize my work onto other media

[whyareyouhere66]

➢ Polaroid

multiple male x GN reader

warnings: none

x

When he’s got your Polaroid displayed in his car.

The radio has music wafting through the speakers, a small charm hanging from the rear view mirror as he casually turns the wheel with the palm of his hand, turning onto a new street. 

His eyes are trained on the road, humming slightly to the song as it plays, when he sees the small white frame out of the corner of his eye.

The corner of it is stuck into a crevice somewhere on the dashboard, and your bright smile fills the space, eyes wrinkled and narrowed into a squint as the picture was taken seconds into a laugh. In the picture, your head is tilted up to look at the camera, the flash lighting up your face leaving it perfectly framed for him to admire.

At the sight of it, his lips quirk up into a small and fond smile. He had put it there so whenever you weren’t there in person, he could still have you there somehow, by your designated seat on the passenger side. Anyone who got into the car would be welcomed by your face, even from its spot tucked into the dashboard placed specifically so he could always see it.

The song changes on the radio, a few seconds of talking in the transition between melodies. 

And just like that, he’s turning onto your street.

Pulling in just to see that same pretty face in person. 

[characters: JJ Maybank, John B. Routledge, Pope Heyward, Eijiro Kirishima, Shoto Todoroki, Mashirao Ojiro, Zed Necropolis, Carlos De Vil, Ben Beast, Sodapop Curtis, Adam Banks, Charlie Conway, Koshi Sugawara, Daichi Sawamura, Asahi Azumane]

[dixons-sunshine]

Accidents Happen | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen. Daryl was only picking you up from work. He didn’t want the night to end with the both of you in the hospital with no clue if you’d be okay.

Genre: Hurt/comfort.

Era: Pre Apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: Blood, injuries, allusions to drunk driving, car accident.

Word count: 2.4k.

A/N: A few facts surrounding the rescue is probably not accurate. I didn’t have any internet while writing this so I winged it. Just a quick warning before you read! There are more than likely inaccuracies in this!

“Hey, Dar,” you greeted your husband with a smile, hopping into the old truck Daryl had taken to work for the day. You settled back into the worn leather, letting out a big sigh of relief. You were relieved that the day was over. Being at work at past seven pm should be illegal, you thought to yourself.

Daryl gave you a small smile. “Hey, Peach.” He started up the truck once he saw you were settled and pulled out of the parking lot. “Long day, huh?”

“God, you don’t even know the half of it,” you groaned. It had indeed been a long day; from parent-teacher conferences to meetings you couldn’t care less about, on top of having to break up multiple fights throughout the day, it was safe to say that you were exhausted.

Daryl chuckled and absentmindedly started chewing on his thumbnail as he pulled onto the back road that would make for a faster route back to your apartment than braving the traffic on the highway. “‘Least s’Friday. Two days’a freedom, huh?”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Nope. I need to work on some stupid report. All the teachers have to. We need to have it done by Monday.” You sighed and reached for your husband’s hand and interlaced you fingers through his, something you subconsciously did whenever you noticed him chewing on his thumbnail.

Daryl rubbed his thumb over your knuckles affectionately. “Ya’ll be alright. I don’ have anythin’ planned for the weekend anyways so I’mma be at yer beck and call. Anythin’ ya need, okay?”

You smiled at him. However, before you could say anything, the flashing of another car’s lights caught your attention. The car was in the wrong lane; it was beelining straight for Daryl’s truck. “Shit! Daryl, look out!”

Your words barely registered in the air before Daryl was gripping the steering wheel, trying to swerve out of the maniac’s way. However, by doing so, Daryl lost control of the vehicle, and the car swerved away from the road and into the treeline.

The last thing that you remember was an immense feeling of dread. And then...

It all went black.

Daryl gasped as he regained consciousness. His mind was hazy. His head was pounding. His body was aching, and he very quickly became extremely aware of the fact that he was pinned beneath a piece of debris. What had happened? Why the hell wasn’t he at home? Why was he still in his truck? Why was he pinned beneath his truck’s dashboard?

However, as his mind started to catch up with him, he became acutely aware of what had happened. Another car had been driving on the wrong side of the road, forcing him to have to swerve his truck. The same truck Merle had given to him years ago. The same truck he had used to pick you up from work.

Daryl’s eyes widened and he quickly looked over to his right, praying for the first time in his life. However, he had no idea if his prayers were answered when he saw the state you, the love of his life, were in. You were unconscious, with blood noticably gushing in rivers from your head.

“Shit, Y/N!” Daryl called to you hoarsely, a sharp pain shooting through his upper body when he tried to turn and reach you. He probably had a broken rib. A bruised one, if he was that lucky. “Y/N, oh my god. Darlin’? Peach, please wake up,” he called desperately. He tried his hardest to get to you, but with his body being pinned beneath the dashboard, his attempts were proven to be futile.

To say Daryl was terrified would be an understatement. Other than the pain shooting from his ribcage when he tried to move and the incessant pounding in his head, he was relatively fine. You, on the other hand, looked terrible. He didn’t know what to make of the fact that he couldn’t seem to wake you. His mind was wandering to places he didn’t like. He wouldn’t let his mind accept that you were dead. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t survive if you passed away. The mere thought of having to bury you sent his mind into a spiral, and he started hyperventilating. “Oh god, Peach, please talk to me. Please!”

“Sir, please calm down. Everything is going to be alright.”

The sound of someone’s voice had Daryl snapping his head back to look to his left. His cerulean eyes locked with what appeared to be a police officer, two firemen standing next to him. As Daryl’s mind started to process this new bit of information, he realized that a bunch of police vehicles and an ambulance surrounded the area, as well as a few news reporters. Fucking vultures, Daryl thought about the reporters as his eyes flickered back to the police officer. However, in his place, he found two paramedics, carrying a stretcher. Daryl had barely even realized that the dashboard had been lifted from him. However, before the paramedics could lift him onto the stretcher, Daryl was resisting.

“Nah, get her first,” Daryl basically pleaded with the men in front of him. “Get her first. Please. Take care’a her first.”

“Sir, please remain calm. Just focus on your breathing, okay?”

“Get her first!” Daryl exclaimed as he felt his breathing become more erratic. He was pushing the hands of the men off of him. “God, please. Don’ let her die. Please.”

One of the paramedics signalled something over his shoulder, and soon, the door to your side was being pried open and two other paramedics were tending to you and lifting you out of the car and onto a separate stretcher. Daryl let out a sigh of relief. Good. You were being taken care of. He could relax somewhat. However, his relief was short-lived when the paramedics started moving at a more frantic pace, his worry reappeared.

“What? What’s wrong?!” Daryl exclaimed in a panicked tone. Please don’t let her die, Daryl silently begged to whatever higher power was willing to listen to him.

“Sir, please remain calm. We’ll do everything in our power to ensure your wife’s well-being,” one of the paramedics reassured him. He then beckoned the other paramedic closer and together, began to lift Daryl onto his own stretcher.

Daryl didn’t fight back this time. There was no use to do so. You weren’t in the car anymore. You were being wheeled away to the ambulance. His only option at that moment in time was to co-operate. You’d want him to. He knew that.

As he was wheeled into the ambulance—thankfully the same one that you were in—he turned his head to look at you. The sight that beheld him made him want to burst into tears, but he didn’t. He needed to be strong and hope that your stubbornness prevailed in the face of death, that you’d flip death the bird and live to see another few decades.

You had to be fine. You just had to.

“M’not sure. I think it was a blue car? Was definitely a blueish-black car. One’a the headlights had this weird ass green colourin’ to it and the hood had its paint scraped off. Was white underneath, I think. M’sorry. S’all I remember.”

“It’s okay. Every bit of information helps. We’ll try our best to track the perpetrator down,” a police officer—Deputy Henderson or Hallmark or something—told Daryl, sending him his version of a reassuring smile.

To be quite honest, Daryl could hardly believe that he had retained even that slightest bit of information on the asshole that had caused the car wreck. Everything had happened so fast. Everything had gone to hell in a mere second.

Daryl nodded at the officer and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “S’it alright if I go now?”

The deputy nodded in understanding. “We’ll be sure to keep you updated. Go be with your wife.”

With that, Daryl turned around and walked back towards room 207—the room where you were laying unconscious. As Daryl slowly lowered himself into the chair next to your bed, an action he had done since late the previous evening, ever mindful of his bruised ribs—one lucky thing that had come from the accident, a mere bruised rib—and leaned forward to gingerly take your hand in his, and that was the position he stayed in for nearly two hours. According to the doctors, you would be alright. You suffered from a broken leg, a really horrible concussion, multiple bruises and two deep cuts that needed stitches, but you were otherwise okay.

Daryl didn’t believe in miracles, but in that moment, there was no other word that could describe it. You had looked terrible when the paramedics had rolled you into the ambulance, and Daryl had been convinced that the injuries you had sustained would be far more lethal. It was truly a miracle that you had gotten of relatively okay. However, Daryl still got off better than you, and he felt terrible about that. He would much rather have been suffering in that bed in your place than have to witness you he hurt ever again.

“If you think any harder, you’ll burn a hole right through your head.”

Daryl’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. A wave of relief crashed over him, and had it not been for the state you were in, he would have crushed you to him in a hug. However, he settled on tightening his grip on your hand, his cerulean blue eyes staring deeply into your own. “Yer awake,” he whispered, almost disbelievingly.

You nodded and sent him a small smile, albeit a little strained due to the pain that shot through your body when you tried to move. The drugs pumping through your system helped numb most of the pain, but not all of it, however. “I’m awake,” you confirmed, lacing your fingers through his, just like you had done the night before. However, once your eyes focused more, you could see the very prominent bruising on his face and around his eye, making you gasp. “Oh my god, Daryl... What happened?”

Daryl sighed and looked down at the bed, intentionally shielding his injury from you as to not make you worry more. “Car accident,” he began to explain in a quiet tone of voice. “Some asshole was drivin’ in the wrong lane. I had to swerve and then lost control’a the truck. We crashed into a tree.”

You frowned and looked at Daryl in concern. “Are you okay? That bruise—”

Daryl involuntarily let out a small chuckle at your concern. Leave it to you to worry more about other people than yourself, even when you were supposed to worry about yourself. Some things never change. “Yeah, m’fine, Princess. I promise.” Daryl stopped for a moment, swallowing at the lump that formed in his throat, before continuing. “M’so goddamn sorry, Sweetheart. I didn’t mean to cause all’a this.” He gestured to your battered and bruised body for added emphasis. “I was an idiot. I should’a jus’ drove into the other lane. I shouldn’t’a swerved into the fuckin’ treeline. M’so sorry. I—”

“Stop apologizing,” you cut him off with a stern yet gentle voice. “It’s not your fault, you hear me?” Daryl went to protest, but you continued before he could. “It is not your fault. You were placed in an impossible situation and you didn’t have time to think of a plan. You had to act fast, and you did. Imagine if you hadn’t swerved and we collided with that car. We would’ve been worse off. Sure, I’m a little broken and bruised in some places, but I’m fine. I’m alive. There’s absolutely nothing to feel guilty over. You understand?”

Daryl understood. He just didn’t really believe it. However, he wasn’t about to start an argument with you when you were in such a fragile condition. Besides, deep down, Daryl could admit that there was some truth to your words. But he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself until that asshole that caused this was caught for his crimes.

Daryl brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your knuckles. “Okay,” he finally conceded. “M’jus’ real glad yer alive. When I woke up in the truck and saw ya passed out and ya wouldn’t wake up... I thought I had lost ya.” Unwillingly, a few tears fell from your husband’s eyes. He didn’t even notice.

Your heart ached for Daryl. Had the roles been reversed, and he was the one laying in that bed, you’d probably have reacted the same way. You gently rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, silently willing the man to look at you. “I’m here. It’s gonna take a whole lot more than that to take me away from you, I promise.” When Daryl didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to attempt to lighten up the air. You could tell your husband needed a distraction. “You think they’ll give me an extension on that report? I’m not gonna have it done by Monday.”

By some stroke of luck, that had managed to get a small smile from Daryl. He shook his head and looked at you affectionately. “If they don’t give ya that extension, m’personally gonna shoot each and every one’a ‘em.”

You chuckled and sent him a small smile. “I love you so much, you know that?”

Daryl’s smile turned more genuine at your words. “I love ya more, Sunshine.” Before you could respond with your typical “impossible” or “I love you the most”, Daryl’s phone rang. It was the deputy from earlier. Frowning, he answered the phone. “Hello?”

You couldn’t hear what the other person was saying, but if Daryl’s suddenly relieved facial expression was anything to go off of, it was good news. The conversation was short and to the point, and when the call ended, you spoke up. “Who was that?”

“Was the deputy,” Daryl explained, a small smile on his face. “They got the son of a bitch.”

You smiled at him and beckoned him over for a hug. Daryl complied and very gently, almost as if you’d break under any sort of pressure, hugged you. Sure, the two of you would have to go and identify the man they had captured’s car, but there was no doubt in Daryl’s mind that the man responsible would soon be behind bars. For once, the legal system hadn’t failed him. You’d get the justice you deserve.

And for the first time since everything had gone down, Daryl was at peace.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesongfics.

You, Me & A Christmas Tree

December Prompt: You, Me And A Christmas Tree by The Steve Carlson Band | Word Count: 1725 | Rating: E | CW: Sexual Content, Blow Job, Grinding | Tags: Future Fic, Long Term Relationship, Park Ranger Eddie Finds His Perfect Tree, He Already Has His Perfect Partner in Steve

Inspiration song here on Spotify.

Eddie looks over at Steve, only lit by the glow of the dashboard lights. It's impulsive, leaving before dawn, hitting the road with Steve behind the wheel. It makes Eddie feel twenty-one and free, out on the road together. Falling in love. Starting this thing he plans to hold onto for life.

This morning, before the sun has even risen, they've hopped in the car to go get a tree at a farm up north in Tacoma that he's only heard of by word of mouth. It's thrilling. 

"You sure you'll be okay cutting down a tree?" Steve asks, and that's a fair question. They could absolutely drive seven hours to this tree farm, only for Eddie to get cold feet looking at the gorgeous, living, breathing trees he's spent his life admiring and caring for, with pleasure.

He loves the trees. 

"Maybe," Eddie admits.

"I'll take maybe," Steve answers, and Eddie smiles. It's not about the tree. It's about the adventure. He knows that, and so does Steve.

He can't do it. 

They have a perfectly good artificial tree at home. He can't kill this one just to make their living room pretty for a month.

Eddie runs his hand along the needles of the tree, feeling them between his fingers, and leans in to get a good whiff of that earthy, pine scent.

"You can't do it, can you?" Steve asks, squeezing both of Eddie's shoulders from behind.

"No, but look how pretty they are," Eddie says, looking out over the rows and rows of trees. Park rangers take care of trees, trying to keep them alive for generations. They don't chop them down for sport, and he's just realized he's most definitely a tree-arian? Treean?

Whatever it's called, he's an advocate for trees, a friend of them. 

"They are," Steve interrupts his train of thought, and Eddie looks back at the trees.

So, maybe they've just driven seven hours to admire trees. They live amongst the trees. A trek to see them isn't exactly necessary. But these are different trees than the ones in their backyard. Eddie's not mad they came all this way to see them, and he knows Steve well enough by now to know that he's not mad either.

A cheerful worker comes over, trying to help when he sees that they are just standing there, and Steve is honest, telling him that while they can't cut down a tree, that they are gorgeous. 

The worker looks left, then right, like he might be preparing to offer them a drug deal, before dropping his voice to a whisper, "Sixteen miles north. Living trees. You get one, return it, and get it again next year as it grows."

Eddie's sure the smile that splits across his face is wide and bright. 

Steve digs in his back pocket, getting out his wallet, fishing out a fifty dollar bill. A tip instead of bribe this time, but still offered up to get Eddie out of a tight spot, and Eddie is delighted.

Sixteen miles.

There are rows and rows of trees in pots, and Eddie wants one. He wants all of them. But he also recognizes that hauling a tree back and forth across state lines seven hours each way, twice each year, at Christmas, seems more than impractical. Eddie tells the owner that he's a park ranger, that he loves trees, that he has chosen to spend his whole life surrounded by them, and just couldn't cut one down. He tells him that he loves this new model. To keep the trees alive, growing, to be used for multiple years by the same family.

But he also explains that they just live too far away for this to be a realistic option. He's scared it'll be too hard on the tree being hauled back and forth that far, year after year.

He still loves the idea, though. Maybe there's an adopt-a-tree program? Like with whales or bears? He can have a tree, but not have the tree?

The owner takes pity on Eddie, and spends over an hour giving him all the trade secrets to keeping a potted tree alive year-round at home, and sells it to him outright for far less than the cost of renting it each year.

So, now they own a Christmas tree. It's small, maybe more like a Christmas bush this year, but it's a tree. It's gonna grow, and when it's too big for the house, Eddie thinks he'll transplant it into the yard. He knows people. They could do it. 

And then they could have it for decades to come, and that delights Eddie.

Settling back into the car, Eddie smiles over at Steve, "Okay, sweetheart. It's just you, me and Christmas tree. Let's go home."

They only make it as far as Portland before Eddie hollers, "Stop, look there!" 

Steve brakes gently. Eddie knows he's not surprised by Eddie shouting that he wants to stop somewhere along the road.

"Where am I looking?" Steve asks, awaiting further directions. 

"Three o'clock," Eddie says, "Look at all those roses!"

Someone is selling garlands made of fresh roses at a roadside stand, and Eddie wants some for their brand new tree.

"Oh, so roses you can kill without remorse," Steve banters, but turns the car into the parking lot.

"Yep. Fuck them flowers," Eddie declares, teasing as he hops out, heading over to pick out several of the white ones.

He's never had a tree with roses on it before. Never even knew that was an option. He asks the vendor a thousand questions on how to keep it alive, and they are definitely gonna need a spray bottle to mist it. 

Then they head south in their weighed down, sleighbound car. 

At home, Eddie takes great care of the potted tree, and the rose garlands, following all the instructions. He's gonna keep them both alive if it's the last thing he does. Especially the tree. The garlands will only last a few weeks even if he does it all perfectly, but the tree? The tree could outlive him if he plays his cards right.

After everything is settled in, Eddie starts stripping his clothes. He needs a shower, and then he's gonna show Steve just how thankful he was for this impromptu adventure. Another in their ever-growing history. 

They are made to be on the road together. It's where Eddie feels at home, a map in hand, Steve at his side, in search of adventure.

And trees.

Eddie finds Steve sprawled out on the bed dozing, and Eddie needs no other invitation. He slots his body on top of Steve's, pressing their lips together. When he pulls back, he says, up close and personal, looking into Steve's eyes, "Thanks for the adventure."

"You say when and where, and I'm always there," Steve answers, rubbing his hands up and down Eddie's bare skin. It's nowhere near cold in their house, but it makes Eddie shiver, nevertheless. 

He's won the lottery several times over with Steve Harrington. He knows that. 

And now he's gonna show him how grateful he is for that.

Eddie slides down Steve's body, settling between his thighs.

"Big plans, huh?" Steve asks, his voice trailing off into a giggle. 

"The biggest," he banters back, cupping Steve's cock through his underwear, then moving the material aside so he can reach bare skin.

Eddie slides his mouth down, taking Steve all the way in, resting his open palm against Steve's hairy belly as he bobs his head. 

"Jesus," Steve says, and Eddie smiles as best he can with Steve's dick in his mouth. That he can still be Steve's undoing all these years in, thrills him. He likes the power of it, it's more of a turn on than anything else.

Steve loves him.

And he loves Steve.

He wants to fuck him. He wants to suck his cock. He wants to ride him. No, he wants Steve to ride him. He wants Steve to settle across his thighs, and sink down, bottoming out, moving together in Steve's favorite position. Eddie wants to look into Steve's eyes and be that connected, always.

Eddie grinds against Steve's calf, working himself in the same rhythm as he's sliding up and down Steve's cock, mouth wide, Steve's hand in his hair. Petting, not guiding, just enjoying the ride.

There's no doubt Eddie's gonna get off on this alone, it's just whether or not he beats Steve to the punch. He better bring in the big guns.

He wraps his fist around the base of Steve's cock, and works his hand with his mouth in tandem, twisting upwards on every stroke.

That's all it takes. It's all it ever takes. Eddie can read him like an open book, and could get him off blindfolded. He wouldn't want to, he'd miss seeing Steve coming undone. But he could.

Steve tenses, his dick hardening further against Eddie's tongue, and Eddie is more than accustomed to what comes next: Steve, against his tongue, down his throat. Eddie keeps bobbing, keeps grinding, and finally Eddie comes against Steve's leg, not to mention surely on the comforter, as he swallows. Steve's definitely gonna have thoughts about him coming on the bedspread, but he couldn't help it. Steve in his mouth, the taste, the feel, is always irresistible. 

He licks at the head of Steve's cock, and Steve jumps, oversensitive, but Eddie wants to get it all. Waste not, want not.

And he laughs at the thought.

"Laugh it up, you're doing the laundry," Steve says, but he's smiling, relaxed and rooted to the spot.

Eddie smiles and crawls back up Steve's body, settling in and letting Steve hold him close, as Eddie tucks his face into Steve's neck.

"I will. Later. Nap first," Eddie wheedles, and Steve nods against his cheek, wrapping his arms around Eddie tighter, pulling him into his body as close as possible. Eddie loves it. Loves him. Has loved him for fifteen years and a handful of change.

And he doesn't see that changing anytime soon.

"That tree is gonna outlive us, you know?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles against Steve's skin.

It definitely should, and when it does, it'll just be part of their love story.

Deeper than the holler, higher than the redwoods growing up on their hill.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics to follow along with the holiday song cheer! 🎵

Notes: This feels like it's at least loosely set in the Take the Money and Run universe. I didn't go back and re-read that fic to make sure everything fits, but them already living up in that corner of California felt like the most likely reason they'd ever be in Tacoma or Portland, lol.

And it's not a holiday song, but the last line is also a play on lyrics from the song "Deeper Than the Holler" by Randy Travis.

[fictionfreedom]

Violently slamming the fact that DID and other "Dissociative Disorders" related to Plurality were made by Ableist doctors who believed in "False Memories" and had MANY patients come out about being abused and/or the Integration forced upon them causing them to be unable to function due to the lack of their Headmates

Anyways, please read This, I feel it helped give a lot of light on why you honestly shouldn't bother interacting much with 'Anti-endos' and 'Sysmeds'

I know we posted the link before but certain,, posts keep popping up on our dashboard.

(The link outside of text: https://www.astraeasweb.net/plural/allison.html)

Also, for anyone who does read that I feel the need to say (if the information does actually reach you): Do NOT be ashamed at using the term DID for yourself, or anything mentioned to be "Bad" in that text. If you can go without using it, obviously it could be great if you would, but if it's the most comfortable term for you then you're under no obligation to stop using it for others comfort. Same goes for plenty of other stuff.

Also: Go check out the other plural post we made, Specifically the one mention Layman's Guide To Multiplicity. (Though, if you can't find it, here's the Link) ((Note: The website doesn't load very well on Mobile, so you may have trouble reading it on a phone. It's still able to be read, but it may feel a bit annoying))

[leixwhite02]

Stay With Me // Eddie Diaz

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader gets into a car accident, blood, Eddie sad.

Synopsis: Eddie Diaz is no stranger to chaos. He’s trained to keep his cool, to focus on saving lives no matter the circumstances. But when the 118 responds to a brutal car accident, Eddie’s world shatters. And this time, he doesn’t know if he can handle it.

Paring: Eddie Diaz x reader

“Multiple casualties reported at the scene—vehicle collision, possible entrapment.”

Bobby’s voice came through the radio as the sirens blared, the red and blue flashing lights casting harsh shadows across Eddie’s face. His grip tightened on the handle beside him as they sped toward the crash site, heart already pounding from the adrenaline.

It was supposed to be a routine call. Just another rescue. Just another day.

They pulled up to the wreckage—two vehicles, both mangled from the impact. Glass littered the pavement, and smoke curled from one of the cars. Civilians stood nearby, shouting, crying. The scene was pure chaos.

Eddie barely processed any of it before Buck pointed toward the car on the right. “Victim’s pinned in the driver’s seat—unconscious but breathing.”

He rushed forward without hesitation.

His focus was sharp, movements precise as he reached the crushed door. “I got this side,” he called to Hen, who was already assessing the damage.

But then he saw her.

A bloodied hand, limp against the crumpled dashboard.

Familiar jewelry on delicate fingers.

Eddie’s stomach dropped. His vision tunneled.

It was you.

His hands moved before his brain caught up, yanking at the door, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “We need to get this open now!” His voice was sharper than usual, cracking at the edges.

“Eddie—”

“Help me get this open, now!” His vision blurred as he forced himself to focus. He couldn’t panic. Not now. Not when you needed him.

With Chim and Buck’s help, they pried the door open. Eddie pushed inside, ignoring the glass biting into his knees as he cupped your face with shaking hands. “Baby, hey. Hey, I’m here.”

Your eyelashes fluttered, a weak sound escaping your lips.

“You’re gonna be okay, I’ve got you,” he whispered, barely hearing anything else around him. “Stay with me.”

Hen’s voice was distant as she assessed your injuries. “She’s lost a lot of blood—we need to move her carefully.”

Eddie’s heart hammered. He had patched up countless victims, pulled people from burning buildings, carried friends to safety. But this—this was you. His everything.

“On my count,” Bobby called.

Eddie slid his arms beneath you, holding you as if you’d break.

“I got you, baby,” he murmured, pressing a shaky kiss to your forehead. “I got you.”

——

The ambulance ride was a blur of flashing lights and frantic voices, but Eddie never let go of your hand. His grip was firm, unwavering, as if the simple act of holding on could tether you to him, keep you from slipping away.

“BP’s dropping,” Hen called out. “We need to move faster.”

Eddie swallowed hard, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. You were too still, your skin too cold. “Stay with me, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Just hold on a little longer. We’re almost there.”

As soon as the ambulance screeched to a stop, the back doors flew open. Eddie moved with them, keeping pace as they wheeled you into the ER.

Doctors and nurses swarmed, a whirlwind of scrubs and medical jargon that barely registered in his mind. Someone tried to push him back, but he didn’t budge.

“Sir, we need you to—”

“I’m not leaving her.” His voice was sharp, edged with something desperate, something raw.

Bobby’s hand landed on his shoulder, grounding but firm. “Eddie, let them do their job.”

He didn’t want to. Every instinct screamed at him to stay by your side, to protect you. But his team—his family—was here. Bobby. Hen. Buck. They would hold him up if he fell apart.

His fingers slipped from yours as they wheeled you through the doors. The loss of contact sent a jolt of fear through his chest.

And then you were gone.

Eddie stood frozen in the hallway, the metallic scent of blood still clinging to his hands. His heart pounded as he stared at the closed doors, as if sheer willpower alone could force them to open and bring you back to him.

A long silence stretched before a voice finally broke through.

“She’s strong, man,” Buck said, softer than usual. “She’s gonna fight.”

Eddie exhaled shakily, running a bloodied hand down his face. “She has to,” he whispered. Because he didn’t know how to do this without you.

——

A nurse approached, clipboard in hand, her expression professional but kind. “Sir, are you her husband?”

The question stunned him for a second. The word husband rang in his ears, foreign and familiar all at once. No, he wasn’t. But he wanted to be.

“I’m—” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “I’m her—”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Hen cut in smoothly, stepping up beside him. “He’s her emergency contact.”

The nurse nodded, scribbling something down. “She’s in surgery now. The doctors are doing everything they can. If you’d like, you can wait in the family room. Someone will update you as soon as they know more.”

“Thanks,” Bobby said when Eddie couldn’t find the words, stunned to complete silence.

The nurse walked off, leaving him standing there, lost in the sterile glow of the hospital lights.

“Come on,” Bobby urged gently. “Let’s sit down.”

Eddie barely registered moving, barely noticed the weight of his own steps as they guided him toward the waiting room. He sank into a chair, his elbows resting on his knees, hands laced together so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He should have protected you. Should have been the one in that car instead. The guilt pressed heavy on his chest, suffocating him.

Buck sat beside him, leaning forward with his arms crossed. Hen and Bobby lingered close. No one spoke for a while, the weight of the moment too heavy for empty words.

It felt like hours before another doctor finally appeared, her expression unreadable as she approached.

“Diaz?”

Eddie shot up so fast the chair nearly tipped over. “Yeah. That’s me.”

The doctor gave him a measured look before speaking. “She made it through surgery.”

The air rushed from his lungs, his knees nearly buckling.

“But she lost a lot of blood,” the doctor continued. “There was internal bleeding—we were able to stop it, but the next 24 hours are critical. She’s stable for now, but she hasn’t woken up yet.”

Not awake.

Eddie swallowed hard, nodding even though his throat was thick with emotion. “Can I see her?”

The doctor hesitated for half a second before nodding. “One visitor at a time.”

Eddie didn’t wait.

His feet carried him through the hall, past nurses and machines and hushed conversations, until he finally reached your room. The beeping of monitors filled the silence, and there you were—pale against the stark white sheets, an IV in your arm, bandages covering the wounds he hadn’t been able to stop.

His breath hitched as he stepped closer.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice cracking.

Carefully, he reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. It was warm—thank God, it was warm.

He lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And this time, he didn’t let go.