#reposting this bc i'm really sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monzabee · 9 months ago

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the alchemy - cs55

masterlist || part 1 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where not Carlos, nor you, have the power to fight the alchemy.

Pairing: dad!carlos sainz x mom!reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: absolute fluff (been a while), possible ovary explosion bc of dad!carlos, cursing (because i use way too many f-bombs in real life too), kids (apparently, it’s a tw for some people), i tried hating charles but it’s not happenning so a cheater redemption arc (kinda, he's trying okay??)

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! first of all, thank you all so much for the love you showed for part one, i really appreciate it and i'm sorry that this part has been a little delayed, but i just wanted it to be just as drama-filled as the first part whilst still being a bit lighter so i hope i found the right balance for it. while we love dad!carlos, i felt like charles still deserved a chance to redeem himself and come to his senses so we love that redemption arc for him (well, kinda guess?). also, i know we have one more part of this little mini-series to go, a social media au (yay!), but i just wanted to let you all know, once again, that i do not have a taglist, and no i will not be making one!! however, i do appreciate all your support and comments, and please do let me know what you think about this part! thanks to @percervall once again, who had to listen me talk about this part for many many hours and who was kind enough to help me proofread!! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It only happened once every few lifetimes.

You honestly did not expect to end up with one of your closest friends – especially not after you told your cheating husband that you were getting a divorce, after he chose his lover over you and your baby; and most definitely not after the said close friend told you that he would step up instead of your cheat of a husband.

But there you are, in the arms of non-other than Carlos Sainz, your boyfriend, having just woken up by the excited pitter patter of feet right outside your bedroom door. “Carlos,” you whisper, nudging him softly to wake him up, “Carlos, wake up.” You watch as he stirs, and then buries his head onto his pillow mumbling all the reasons why he doesn’t want to be awake, but you just chuckle softly as you poke him again. “Carlos, please.”

With a disgruntled grunt, you watch as his eyes open, and with a scratchy voice he whines, “What, amor, I was sleeping.”

Rolling your eyes, you point to the bedroom door, “Listen,” you tell him, and watch as his eyes widen as realisation sets in at the same time his expression turns into a smiling one. “I think someone is excited for today.”

“You think?” He retorts, snorting lightly as he pulls you closer, “That’s all he’s been able to talk about for weeks, amor.”

“Well, can you blame him?” You nudge him, ignoring the sound of scraping of your son’s step stool outside your door. “He just wants to watch his father win.” Watching the smile on your boyfriend’s face grows as the door handle is jiggling, you point to the pillows with your head, “Let’s just pretend we’re asleep, he’ll be happier that way.”

With a deep sigh, the happy kind, he pulls you closer to himself – at the right time too, as you hear the patter of footsteps getting closer. With a tug at the comforter, you hear, “Papa, wake up.” You can hear Carlos, badly, muffling a chuckle by burying his head deeper into your neck, but the little voice beside him is non-relenting. “Papa! You promised me we’d go to the race today!”

“Carlos,” you whisper covertly, “you’re going to make him cry.”

Giving you a look that silently says, No I won’t, he turns towards the little intruder in your bedroom, quickly gathering him in his arms as he puts him on the bed next to you. The sound of laughter coming from two of the most important men in your life bring a sleepy smile to your face as you watch Carlos tickle your son despites his protests for him to stop.

“Mommy!” Your son exclaims, climbing over Carlos to reach you, “Tell Papa to stop! We need to get ready!” His face is flushed with excitement and laughter, a sight that fills your heart with warmth.

“Alright, alright,” you say, giggling as you pull him into a hug, “let’s get ready then. You don’t want to be late for your big day, do you?”

Carlos finally stops his playful assault, sitting up and stretching with a groan. “She’s right, buddy. We should all get up and get going. Lots to do before the race, you still remember our plan for breakfast?” Your son’s eyes light up even more, if that were possible, and he scrambles off the bed, running back to his room to get dressed. You and Carlos exchange a glance, something you seem to do more now than ever.

You wait until Rafael is out of the hearing distance before you tilt your head sideways and narrow your eyes in question, “What plan are you talking about?”

“Nothing for you,” he boops your nose with his pointer finger as he straightens up and gets out of the bed, “to worry your pretty little head about. Just come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued but willing to play along. “So, you think I’m pretty?” you ask, batting your eyes at him exaggeratedly as he gently shoves you back into the bed. Getting up and stretching, which you shamelessly take the opportunity to ogle him, you watch him with a smile as he heads towards the kitchen following your son. Getting ready consists of brushing your teeth and hastily throwing on a robe for you, too anxious to see what you son and husband cooking up in the kitchen – literally.

The scene in the kitchen is enough to melt your heart on its own – Rafael is standing on his trusty step stool at the counter, his little hands busy arranging an assortment of fruits on a plate. The concentration on his face is evident by the way his tongue peeks out slightly in that adorable way he does when he’s focused, a habit that he picked up from his father. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, is busy with flipping something in a pan, shirtless might you add.

“Oh my God, look at my boys!” You croon, leaning against the doorframe with a playful grin. “You even have matching hats and everything!”

“Boys?” Carlos scoffs, turning to Rafael and pointing his finger towards you, “Can you believe her?” He then turns to you as he places his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. “We are not boys, amor, we are men.”

You chuckle at his exaggerated display of masculinity, shaking your head as you walk further into the kitchen. “Oh, of course, how could I forget? The two manliest men I know,” you tease, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Rafael, picking up on the banter, puffs out his little chest just like his father, mimicking his stance. “Yeah, Mommy! We're strong, right, Papa?”

Carlos grins, his eyes twinkling as he looks at Rafael. “That’s right, we’re the strongest men in the world." He turns back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And we make the best breakfast too. Isn’t that right, Raf?”

“Yes!” Rafael exclaims, beaming with pride as he holds up the plate of perfectly arranged fruit. “Look what I made, Mommy!”

You lean down to inspect his handiwork, smiling softly. “Wow, this looks incredible, sweetheart. You’re so talented!” You give him a big kiss on the cheek, making him giggle.

Carlos steps closer, holding out a fork with a piece of pancake speared on it. “And how about a taste test, amor?” His voice is softer now, the playful tone giving way to something more tender.

You take the fork from him, taking a bite of the pancake. The fluffiness and warmth of it fill your senses, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh. “This is amazing, Carlos. You’ve outdone yourself.”

He watches you with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Only the best for you.”

Rafael, not wanting to be left out, grabs a piece of fruit and holds it up to you. “Try mine too, Mommy!”

You take the fruit from him, savouring the sweetness as you chew. “Delicious! You’re both going to spoil me with all this great food.”

Carlos chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. “That’s the plan,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shiver slightly. “I can also spoil you in the other way you like,” his voice drops enough for only you to hear.

You glance up at him, meeting his playful yet heated gaze, and feel a blush creep up your cheeks. “Carlos,” you murmur, half-warning, half-inviting, as Rafael happily oblivious to the exchange, chatters away about his breakfast creation. “I would like to still be able to walk by the time we get to the paddock.”

But Carlos just smirks, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “Later, amor,” he promises, his voice thick with affection and mischief.

Before you can respond, Rafael tugs at your robe, breaking the spell. “Mommy! Let’s eat now!” His voice is filled with the kind of innocent excitement that only a child can muster, and it instantly brings you back in the present moment.

You smile down at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Alright, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Carlos gives you one last knowing glance before stepping back to grab the plates. As the three of you settle down at the table, you try to ignore his lingering gaze that makes your heart race just a bit faster, though you’re not exactly that successful.

It would be safe to say that it had been a crazy few years for Carlos Sainz. Or at least, that’s what Charles would say – if, you know, anybody was to ask him his opinion. First, he had lost his seat at Ferrari, and Charles really felt for him at first; after all, he was his teammate. But he was also the man who ended his marriage, so his feelings for Carlos changed for the worse very quickly. The whole situation had him coming to some revelations.

First revelation he came to was the fact that he was wrong for cheating on his wife, however complicated the situation might be. He had tried to justify it to himself, blaming the stress and the strain, but deep down, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done.

Second revelation was that you deserved to be happy, with or without him – he was just being petty because it was with his old teammate. You deserved to be happy, and while Charles could admit that in theory, accepting that your happiness was now tied to Carlos was a bitter pill to swallow.

Third, and probably the biggest, revelation was that he had royally screwed up when he chose the other woman over you and your son, and it was a loss that he mourned every single day. If he thought seeing Carlos thrive after his own life was crumbling down was hurting his ego, seeing Carlos be the father to his son, was a thousand times worse.

Life took an interesting turn for Carlos after that night at the hotel in Monte Carlo. You had no expectations for him, you didn’t expect him to stay true to his words and be there for you and your baby. But that was the thing, because he kept his promise. He was at your door the next morning with a short list of apartments and penthouses in Monte Carlo. Anticipating your need of getting out of the country, he was prepared – he also looked at apartments in New York, houses in LA and townhouses in London (the few apartments he chose in Madrid also didn’t escape you, but it was a conversation you weren’t ready to have yet). So, when you were having, yet another breakdown in front of him, he just stood next to you and held you until you calmed down. He was always next to you, somehow managing his schedule for the racing season and coming out to see you between races. He kept true to his promise as he made waffles for you at midnight, grumbling about how pancakes were superior, and he held your hand when you were in the delivery room even though you were probably close to breaking the poor man’s hand. The bigger shock came when he announced that he would not be racing for the next season – something he had conveniently not told you in the months leading up to your pregnancy. It also led up to your first fight, and your first real confrontation since this unexpected journey began. The news that Carlos wouldn’t be racing the next season blindsided you. It wasn’t just the fact that he had made such a monumental decision without consulting you; it was the realisation that he had chosen you and your child over the sport he loved so deeply.

“What do you mean you’re not racing next season?” you had asked, your voice edged with disbelief. You were standing in the kitchen of the new apartment he had helped you find, your baby—your son—napping peacefully in the next room. Carlos was casually leaning against the counter, arms crossed, as if he had just announced something as mundane as what was for dinner.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you had come to recognize as a sign that he was about to say something serious. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he said, his voice calm, and God it drove you insane how calm and rational he was being with a decision so irrational to you. “And after everything that’s happened... I just think it’s the right decision for now.”

“But racing is your life,” you insisted, the weight of his words settling in. “I don’t understand how you can just walk away from it.”

Carlos met your gaze, his brown eyes steady and full of determination. “It’s not about walking away,” he explained. “It’s about priorities. You and Rafael... you’re my priority now. I want to be here for you both, not halfway across the world, missing out on everything.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. For so long, you had been used to being let down, to promises that were made and then broken. But here was Carlos, standing in front of you, willing to give up something he loved more than anything for you and your son.

“That’s not fair to you,” you whispered, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you give up on your dreams.”

Carlos stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “You’re not taking anything away from me,” he assured you. “You’re giving me something I didn’t even know I needed. I’m choosing this, because I want to. I want to be here for you, to be the father Rafael deserves. I want us to be a family.”

His words broke through the wall you had been holding up, and you let the tears fall. It wasn’t just about the sacrifice he was making; it was about the fact that he was doing it willingly, without hesitation, because he wanted to be with you and Rafael. It was a love that was deeper than anything you had ever known, and it terrified you as much as it filled you with hope.

“But what if you regret it?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of your fears.

“I won’t,” Carlos said firmly, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears. “I know what I want. And if I ever go back to racing, it’ll be when we’re ready. When we both decide it’s the right time. But for now, this is where I need to be.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was as serious as ever, and in that moment, you realized that this wasn’t just about him making a choice— it was about him choosing you, over and over again, in a way no one ever had before.

The argument you had anticipated fizzled out before it could even begin. There was nothing left to fight about, not when he had laid his heart bare for you. All you could do was fall into his arms, holding onto him tightly as you let the weight of his decision sink in. It was overwhelming, knowing that someone loved you that much, that they would uproot their entire world just to be by your side.

So, yeah, Carlos Sainz had not raced for the 2025 season. If it were up to him, he would stay with the two of you for the 2026 season as well, but you and Carlos Sainz Sr managed to convince him to get back to the real world, no matter how much he was enjoying being a stay-at-home dad. But the biggest shock for the world, and Charles, wasn’t that Carlos was returning to the F1 grid – no, the biggest shock was that he was returning to the F1 grid in one of the most coveted seats; right next to Max Verstappen. The reaction to the news had been mixed. Some were thrilled to see him back, eager to see what he could do in a car as competitive as the Red Bull. Others were skeptical, wondering if a year away from the sport had dulled his edge. For Charles, the news was a bitter pill to swallow. Carlos wasn’t just returning to the grid—he was stepping into one of the most sought-after seats in F1. But more than that, it was the reminder that Carlos had taken something else from him, something far more personal and painful. Watching Carlos step into his new role at Red Bull, knowing that he was now part of your life and Rafael’s life in a way Charles never could be, was a constant, aching reminder of everything he had lost.

And so began the Leclerc-Sainz rivalry – which although sounds riveting, is probably the reason why you had to visit your cardiologist more times than necessary within the last couple of years. On the surface, it was the perfect storyline: two former teammates, now on opposing sides, battling it out on the track in some of the most intense and thrilling races the sport had ever seen. But for you, it was far from entertainment. Each race weekend became a new source of anxiety, and Carlos knew how much it affected you, so he tried his best to keep the rivalry on the track. He would reassure you, telling you that whatever happened during the race, it wouldn’t change how he felt about you or Rafael. But even he couldn’t deny that the tension between him and Charles was personal. It was more than just racing—it was about proving something, not just to the world, but to themselves and each other. And so, race after race, you found yourself on an emotional rollercoaster. The thrill of seeing Carlos perform at his best was always accompanied by the fear of what might happen if things went wrong. The rivalry wasn’t just a storyline for the media—it was a real, living thing that had a profound impact on your life.

So, when Rafael told you that he wanted to watch his father race live, you were hesitant to agree. The thought of bringing your son into that world—where emotions ran high, and the stakes were even higher—filled you with dread. The last thing you wanted was for Rafael to witness the intensity of the rivalry that had consumed not just Carlos and Charles, but your entire life.

Carlos, however, was adamant. He knew how much it meant to Rafael to see him race, to be a part of something that had been such a significant part of Carlos’s life before Rafael was born. “He needs to see it,” Carlos told you one evening as you sat together, discussing Rafael’s request. “He needs to know what I do, why it’s important to me, and why I went back to racing in the first place.”

You couldn’t deny that Carlos had a point. Rafael idolized his father and seeing him in action would only strengthen the bond between them. But the idea of watching the race unfold, of seeing Carlos and Charles go head-to-head while your son was there, was almost too much to bear. The days leading up to the race were a blur of preparation and anxiety. Carlos did his best to reassure you, but the tension was palpable. He understood your fears and promised to keep things professional, but you both knew that once the lights went out, everything would be on the line. So, you weren’t exactly surprised that your boyfriend spent the entire morning buttering you up and getting you to relax as much as possible about the day ahead of you.

And to be perfectly fair, he was right for the most part. It had been fine from the moment you made it into the paddock, which somehow worked wonders on your anxiety. As you made your way to the circuit, Rafael’s excitement was infectious. He was practically bouncing in his seat, his little face pressed against the window as he took in the sights. You couldn’t help but smile, his joy momentarily easing the knot of anxiety that had been tightening in your chest since the moment you agreed to come to the paddock in the first place.

Seeing him so happy and in his element, you know instantly that the paddock, no matter in which country, is going to become his safe place. Rafael keeps asking Carlos questions about everything from how they manage to keep the cars so clean to what would happen if they didn’t wear helmets. And Carlos is patient as he answers all his questions, no matter how childish or obvious they might seem. So, when he told Rafael that maybe, just maybe, he might end up in one of the cars he admires so much one day, you know your son won’t miss the beat. “Can I?” He asks you, eyes widened with a pleading look as he clasps his hands together under his chin, “Please, Mommy, I promise I’ll be very careful.”

“Absolutely not,” you shake your head, mind immediately starting to think about all the things that could go wrong, “it’s so dangerous! Just think about how afraid you’d be of the speed.”

Rafael scoffs, arms crossed on his chest as he pleads through the pout he has on his face, “I’m not afraid of the speed! Papa, tell her I’m not afraid of the speed!”

Carlos reaches over Rafael’s head as he takes off his cap and ruffles his hair, which manages to get a series of giggles from the little boy, and he affirms, “You are not afraid of the speed, but your mother is right.” You have to hold in your laughter when you see the indignant look on Rafael’s face, but Carlos continues talking as he signals for his son to listen, “We can talk about it when you are older, but for right now you are my lead strategist, capisce?”

Rafael steers his pout towards you, and you shrug innocently in response, which gets a resigning sigh from him. “That’s fine, I guess.” He mumbles, and points to the garage door behind the table the three of you are sitting, “Can I look at your car again?”

“Be careful, and make sure you tell Caco where you are.” Carlos reminds him, as Rafael excitedly scurries off toward the garage, leaving you and Carlos to share a quiet moment.

Carlos leaned back in his chair, a content smile playing on his lips as he watched Rafael dart off. “He’s got the bug,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice.

You sigh, shaking your head playfully. “I know. He’s already got the attitude. I don’t think I’m ready for him to jump in a kart and never look back.”

Carlos reaches for your hand, his touch grounding you. “We’ll keep him safe,” he says quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “I promise. Whatever happens, we’ll make sure he’s ready, and we’ll protect him from the worst of it.”

You nod, squeezing his hand in return, trusting him like you always have. As you sit together, watching Rafael’s excitement fill the garage, the sweet moment is interrupted by a voice both of you know very well. “Seriously? You’re using him to get to me on a race day now?”

Your fingers nearly crush your poor boyfriend’s hand as you look at the intruder, your heart immediately racing. You turn to see Charles standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. His eyes flicker from Carlos to you, then toward the garage where Rafael had just run off. “Excuse me?” You manage to get out, your voice sharp with surprise. The audacity of his accusation stings more than you expected. Charles' gaze hardens as he steps closer, clearly not backing down.

“You heard me,” Charles says, his tone edged with bitterness. “Bringing Rafael here, right in the middle of everything... it’s not a coincidence. You’re just trying to—”

“To what?” Carlos cuts in, his voice calm but firm. His protective instincts kick in as he stands, placing himself between you and Charles. “To have a good day with our son? To let him enjoy the race?”

Charles scoffs, shaking his head. “He’s not your son, he’s mine. Stop fooling yourself into thinking you’re his father just because you’re here.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, everything goes silent. Carlos' expression tightens, but he doesn’t move, his body still a shield between you and Charles. You feel your breath catch in your throat, the weight of Charles’ words hanging heavy in the air. “I know who his father is, Charles,” Carlos says, his voice calm but steely. “And considering the fact that he doesn’t even know you exist, I’d say me being here is more than proof that I am his father.”

Charles' jaw clenches, and his eyes flicker with something raw—pain, jealousy, frustration, all mixed together. “You think you can just step in and take my place? Be the dad, play happy family with my son?”

“Cabrón,” Carlos warns, and though you’ve heard him use that nickname for his friends countless of times, this voice is devoid of all affection, “you lost all right to call yourself Rafael’s father when you decided to choose whatever flavour of the month you were with at the time.” You feel your heart race, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of the moment and the murderous look on Carlos’ face. Carlos steps forward, his voice low but terse. “You think being a father is about biology? About showing up when it’s convenient for you? Rafael doesn’t even know who you are because you’ve never been there for him. I have. I’ve been the one tucking him in, I've been there when he was sick and crying, and I’m the one showing him love every single day.”

Charles flinches, the sting of the truth evident in his expression. For a moment, the fire in his eyes dims, replaced by something else— regret, perhaps. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and he straightens his posture, trying to regain control of the situation. “I made mistakes,” Charles says, his voice quiet but defiant. “But you can’t just erase me from his life. He has a right to know who his real father is.”

Carlos’ gaze doesn’t waver, his protective instincts blazing. “Rafael knows who his real father is. He may not understand all the details yet, but he knows who’s been there for him. And when the time comes, when he’s ready, we’ll tell him the truth. But that decision isn’t yours to make anymore, Charles. You gave up that right a long time ago.”

“You’re just going to sit there and let him talk to me like this?” Charles hisses, turning towards you in an attempt to find sympathy. His eyes are pleading, but there’s anger simmering beneath the surface.

Your chest tightens as you meet his gaze, feeling the weight of everything that has been left unsaid between the three of you for so long. You take a deep breath, your voice soft but firm when you finally respond. “It’s time to let go, Charles.” Charles' face falls at your words, the weight of their finality hitting him hard. His lips part slightly as if he wants to argue, but no words come. The tension in the air is suffocating, each second stretching out painfully. Carlos remains silent, standing tall beside you, his hand subtly resting on your back for support. He knows this conversation is yours to finish. “It’s not about erasing you from Rafael’s life,” you continue, your voice steady though your heart is pounding in your chest. “It’s about doing what’s best for him. And right now, that means protecting him from the confusion and hurt that the fact that you were too much of a coward to choose him.”

Charles takes a step back, the anger in his expression dimming into something more fragile. His eyes search yours, perhaps looking for a trace of the bond you once shared, but it’s clear that things have changed too much. Too much time has passed. “I’m not trying to hurt him,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I apologised countless of times, what more do you want from me? I am sorry, okay?”

“Are you quite done?” Charles flinches at your sharp tone, the weight of your words settling heavily between the three of you. His gaze drops to the ground as if he’s searching for something to say, but nothing comes. Carlos stands steady beside you, his presence strong, comforting, even. “I am sorry, too, about it all.”

You can feel Carlos’ confused stare on you, and Charles looks at you with the same expression as he asks, “You... do?”

“I’m sorry that you were cheating on me from the start, I’m sorry you were too weak to stay faithful to me after we got married,” you continue, the words heavy but resolute as they fall from your lips. Charles' expression shifts, a mixture of guilt and pain crossing his face. Carlos’ hand tightens slightly on your back, offering silent support as you finally lay bare what you’ve held inside for so long. “I’m sorry I ignored it for as long as I did, and I’m sorry that I ever found out.” Charles’ face hardens, his eyes clouded with guilt and perhaps a hint of defensiveness as your words hit him. The weight of what you're saying seems to pull him down, and he takes a deep breath as if trying to absorb the impact. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, not willing to let this moment slip away before you say everything that’s been weighing on your heart. “I’m sorry I ever found out about the lies, but most of all, I’m sorry for Rafael. He deserved better, he deserved a father who was present and loved him without conditions,” you say, your eyes locking with Charles’. “You weren’t there, Charles, you weren’t there before Rafael, and you weren’t going to be there after him. So, I suppose what I’m not sorry for is falling in love with a man who was courageous enough to fill that role for both me and him.” Charles’ lips part as if to argue, but no words form. His eyes betray the guilt and regret he’s been carrying, but there’s nothing left for him to say. He knows it. You know it. Even the mechanics and people around you who have stopped what they are doing to watch this whole thing go down know it. “Finally, I’m sorry that you felt the need and audacity to come down here, now not only have you ruined our marriage, but you’ve also ruined my day-off which I intended to spend with my boyfriend, and our son.”

Charles flinches at your final words, his face crumpling under the weight of it all. The sting of your truth, laid bare for everyone to hear, leaves him speechless. His bravado has completely evaporated, replaced by a hollow sense of regret and defeat. He opens his mouth as if to respond but quickly closes it, realizing there’s nothing he can say that will undo the damage he caused, the pain he inflicted, or the years he lost. His eyes flicker to Carlos, who stands steady, unmoved by Charles’ turmoil. There’s no room for pity here. “I—” Charles begins but stops as Carlos raises his hand.

“I think you’ve said enough,” his voice lacks all sympathy for his old friend, his old teammate, “it’s best you should go before you distress my girlfriend, or my son any further.

Charles’ eyes widen slightly at Carlos’ words, the final blow landing hard. He looks as if he’s been physically struck, his shoulders slumping as any remaining fight drains from him. His gaze flickers between you and Carlos, searching for something—anything—but finding no redemption, no sympathy. There’s nothing left to say.

He swallows hard, his lips pressed into a tight line, before finally nodding in a reluctant acceptance. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. He turns on his heel, walking away with slow, defeated steps. The tension that had gripped the air slowly begins to dissipate as he disappears into the distance, leaving only the echoes of his footsteps behind.

Carlos turns to you, his hand still resting on your back, but now it’s a comforting gesture rather than a protective one. His expression softens as he searches your face. “Are you okay?” he asks gently.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s just happened, but also a sense of relief. “I think so,” you reply, your voice steady despite the emotional whirlwind you’ve just gone through. “It needed to happen.”

Carlos nods, his thumb brushing soothingly against your back. “He’s not going to ruin this for us. Not today, not ever.”

You smile faintly, grateful for his support. “No, he’s not. He’s gone now, and I’m finally free of it all.”

“We’re free of him,” Carlos adds, a reassuring strength in his voice. “You, me, and Rafael. That’s what matters.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful on the track today,” you plead, chin resting on his chest as you look up to him.

Carlos chuckles softly, his warm smile easing the tension that still lingers. “I promise,” he says, his voice light but sincere. He tilts his head, giving you a playful wink. “But you know me, I can’t drive too carefully. It's in my nature to push the limits a bit.”

You roll your eyes with a small laugh, but your heart flutters slightly at the thought of him racing. It’s something you’ve grown used to, but there’s always that edge of worry. "Just... don’t make me regret asking," you tease, though the concern in your voice is real.

Carlos leans down, brushing his lips gently against your forehead, the gesture filled with tenderness. "I’ll come back to you both, safe and sound," he whispers softly, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment. "Always."

You smile, feeling reassured by his words, and you give him a small nod. "Alright. Go show them what you’re made of, then."

As Carlos pulls away, you can see the familiar spark in his eyes, the passion and excitement that he always carries before a race. He gives your hand one last squeeze before turning to head toward the car. You watch him for a moment, taking in the sight of him—confident, composed, and ready for whatever comes next. Just before he reaches the garage doors, he turns back and flashes you that signature grin that always makes your heart skip a beat. “For you and Rafael,” he calls out. Your smile widens as you watch him go, knowing that no matter what happens on the track today, you’ll always have each other.

It’s not hard for you to find Rafael when you head back to the garage yourself. He’s completely engrossed in conversation with one of Carlos' engineers, pointing out different tools and parts of the car with wide-eyed fascination. His little hands gesture excitedly, and the engineer listens with a warm smile, clearly amused by Rafael’s enthusiasm. Carlos stands off to the side, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching his son with a look of pure affection and pride. His eyes sparkle as he takes in the sight of Rafael’s excitement, and there’s a certain softness to his expression that makes your heart swell.

You walk over, standing beside Carlos, who doesn’t take his eyes off Rafael but greets you with a small grin. “He’s already talking like he’s part of the team,” Carlos says quietly, his voice filled with pride. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s taking over the pit crew in a few years.”

You chuckle softly, watching Rafael explain something animatedly, his little voice echoing through the garage. “He’s got your passion,” you say, leaning into Carlos slightly, feeling the warmth of his presence.

Carlos hums in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist. “Maybe,” he says, his tone affectionate, “but the way he talks about everything… that’s all you. He’s got your curiosity, your heart, so, all my favourite parts of you.”

“My boyfriend the charmer,” you mumble as you lightly hit him on his chest.

Carlos chuckles, catching your hand gently against his chest before pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Just telling the truth,” he murmurs, his eyes twinkling as he holds your gaze for a moment longer. “You deserve all the charm in the world.”

You roll your eyes playfully, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re good at this, or I might think you’re just trying to get out of bath time for the next few days.”

Carlos laughs, his warm, deep voice sending a wave of comfort through you. “I’d never do that. Bath time is part of the job.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice with a mischievous grin. “But if I do this race right, maybe we can negotiate something.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning suspicion, but you can’t help the flutter in your chest at the way he always manages to make you feel light and cared for, even in the most mundane moments. “Alright, we’ll see how you perform today,” you tease back “if you win, I’ll let you put a baby in me, how about that?”

Carlos freezes for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise before a slow, playful grin spreads across his face. “You’re serious?” he asks, his voice filled with both excitement and disbelief.

You nod, biting your lip, unable to hide your own smile. “If you win today, we can start thinking about it.”

Carlos lets out a short laugh, running a hand through his hair as if trying to process what you just said. “Well, I’ve never been more motivated to win a race in my life,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a new intensity.

You chuckle, your heart racing at the look on his face. "Just make sure you’re focused on the track and not… well, other things."

“Oh, I’ll be focused,” Carlos says, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “But now, I’ve got the best reason in the world to win.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “For you, and for giving Rafael a baby sister or a brother.” Your breath catches at the sincerity in his voice, and as he pulls back, he flashes you that charming grin again before heading off toward the car. You watch him go, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness settle in your chest.

Eventually going behind the barriers and watching the race is harder than you’ve expected, you realise. As the laps go by, you keep glancing at Rafael, who’s glued to the action, his eyes wide with admiration for his dad. You smile at the way he clutches his little racing helmet, a miniature version of Carlos’ gear, his excitement evident. It’s clear he’s living every moment of the race through his dad’s performance, just as you are. When Carlos is in the lead, you hold your breath, willing him to stay ahead. When he’s fighting for position, you’re on the edge of your seat, cheering him on with every ounce of energy you have.

As the final laps approach, you glance at the clock and then at Rafael, who’s practically bouncing with excitement. You can tell he’s just as invested in the outcome as you are. You squeeze his hand, giving him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a determined nod.

When Carlos crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd is deafening, and you let out a cheer of your own, tears of joy welling up in your eyes. You look down at Rafael, who’s jumping up and down, his face beaming with pride and excitement. “He did it!” you shout, lifting him up in your arms as you join in the celebration.

Caco and a couple of the mechanics help you and Rafael to get to the barriers, weaving through the throng of celebrating fans and team members. As you approach the barriers, Rafael’s excitement is noticeable. His eyes are wide with wonder, and he clutches his mini helmet tightly, bouncing with every step. Caco, with his warm, reassuring smile, offers a few words of congratulations and gives Rafael a high-five. Carlos comes into view, his car parked in the parc fermé. His grin is infectious, and you can see the joy and relief in his eyes as he looks up at you and Rafael. The moment he gets out of the car, he’s enveloped by his team, but his gaze quickly finds you and Rafael. He finds his way to you after getting weighed and you can see him grab his cap before finally rushing towards you. Carlos scoops Rafael up into his arms, spinning him around as they both laugh, and then turns to you, his eyes shining with gratitude and affection.

“Well, looks like we’ve got a baby sister or brother to start thinking about,” Carlos says with a wink, setting Rafael down so he can pull you a in for a kiss.

You smile against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the joy of this moment. When you pull away, you look up at Carlos, your eyes sparkling with love and excitement. “We do, don’t we?” you say softly, your heart full as you take in the sight of your family together in this victorious moment.

Rafael, still buzzing with excitement, tugs on Carlos’ sleeve, his little voice bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Papa, did you see me cheering? I was so loud!”

Carlos laughs, his eyes crinkling with joy. “I heard you, buddy. You were the loudest cheerleader out there.”

As the celebration continues around you, you feel a profound sense of contentment. The day’s events, the race, the emotions—everything has come together perfectly. You take a deep breath, savouring the feeling of being surrounded by the people you love most.

Carlos pulls you close, wrapping his arms around both you and Rafael. “Thank you for everything today,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’ve made this day even more special.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart. “It’s been an incredible day,” you agree, looking out at the jubilant scene around you. “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend it with anyone else.”

As you watch him savour the moments with your son before he needs to go for his interview and the podium celebrations, you realise just how lucky you are to have something that only happens every few lifetimes.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #carlos sainz angst

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always-just-red · 10 months ago

Note

hihihi! sylus girlie here. as a college student i often never take breaks whenever im working and often stay up late finishing up assignments. then i stress out but never tell anyone and suffer in silence:’) i was wondering if you could do something similar with sylus x mc where mc often forgets to take breaks at the hunters association and is always the first the volunteer for missions so she could improve.

but then it’s starting to take a toll on her and is so so stressed, but feels bad about venting to someone or saying no to new missions.

maybe one day she’s doing a simple task like cooking herself dinner (or something) but accidentally burns herself and she just ends up breaking down and decides to call sylus and he immediately goes to her. :’)

feel free to decline or change anything! i just like the thought of someone comforting u when ur overworked and stressed bc i wish someone would do that to me lol.

Fast-tracked this one for you, anon! I'm really sorry you're having a tough time right now, and I hope this brings you a bit of comfort- remember, Sylus would want you to take care of yourself! Good luck with all your studies, and feel free to send in another request if ever you need it! 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're not very good at asking for help when you're struggling. Thankfully? You don't always need to.

Genre: fluff + comfort ft. a very domestic Sylus!

Warnings/Additional tags: stressed reader (has a lil bit of a breakdown!), some swearing, uses of 'kitten' and 'sweetie', Sylus is so soft here he should come with a health warning tbh

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

In the event of a wanderer incursion where evacuation of citizens is obstructed or otherwise not viable, association protocol 32.3-A dictates that you should first… That you should first… What?

Your pen is poised above the blank space where your answer should be. 32.3-A is a general procedure: something to do moving people to the nearest shelter. Or, wait— are you supposed to try to contact support, first?

You drop your pen with a huff and flop face-down onto the mock exam. It’s too much. Too much information, too much responsibility. Open textbooks are spread over your desk and around your head like an unholy halo— stacks of them, filled with codes and procedures. They’re supposed to be helpful, but they’re not; they’re drowning you.

Your phone pings and you glance up. Text from Tara:

Hi! Hate to be a bother, but did you finish glancing over that practice question for me? xx

Shit. You’d completely forgotten. You straighten, reaching for your laptop so you can load up your latest emails. You’ve got time to look over it; the exam isn’t for another two days. Breathe, okay? You have time.

Seven unread emails. What? You scan over them frantically. Two from the Captain: accepting additional mission requests you’d applied for. Were those both this week? One from Nero: you hadn’t sent in that finished report. Three from your colleagues, all scrambling for help with the exam. One from Tara:

Thanks for saying you’d look over this for me! You’re the best at this stuff!

Okay, so: Tara’s practice question. Nero’s report. Your own practice questions. Then… dinner? Maybe that should come first. You’d skipped lunch— had one slice of toast for breakfast. But you don’t wanna cook; cooking takes time, and you’ve got none. None.

Your phone is ringing, snapping you back to reality, and you peek over at it. Sylus?

“Hi,” you greet as you put him on speaker. On your laptop, you’re opening up Tara’s attachment.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Always straight to the point. “Uh… yeah?” you frown as you read through your friend’s work. “Why? What d’you need?”

Sylus sighs through the phone. “That was a test, sweetie. You failed.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, highlighting a sentence with your cursor. “Add it to the list.”

The man doesn’t find that funny. The phone is quiet— too quiet. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as your gaze wanders to check if the call has disconnected.

“Mmhmm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sylus.”

You stare down at your phone. He’s waiting for more, but you won’t give it to him. You’re one word away from slipping, and you can’t let the dam crumble, especially in front of him. He’s smiling from the phone call background: a photo he insisted would ‘ruin’ his image when you took it last week.

“I need to go, okay?” Your eyes are shining.

“Okay,” he says softly.

There’s a bleep as the call cuts out, and the photo is gone. Waiting beneath it is another text from Tara, and one from Xavier: Nero told me to txt U bout a report??

You swallow the ache in your throat and slump down on your desk again.

…

You wake up with a start, your head ringing. The tangerine sky outside your window’s turned dark— your laptop, too— and light spills from your desk lamp, yellow on white pages. There’s more, and you turn, tracing it back to where it leaks through the crack of your almost closed bedroom door.

You hadn’t left any lights on in your flat. You hadn’t switched on your lamp, either.

Tiredness is dulling your thoughts and your senses, but you know you feel uneasy. There’s something in the air: smoky, but not unpleasant. You can hear something as well. No— two things. A faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and a more obvious humming.

Hunter instincts kick in. You roll open a drawer of your desk, snatching up one of your standard-issue pistols and removing its safety with a click. You stalk up to the door, your trained footsteps near silent. You take a deep breath, clearing your head. One. Two.

Three! You shoulder the door open, leaping through with your gun trained forwards.

At the other end of your sights, Sylus turns, an eyebrow raised. Your kitchen stove seethes behind him, and he gives you a once over as he sluggishly raises both hands. “You flatter me, kitten,” he smirks in surrender, looking between your weapon and his: a spatula.

You lower your gun, your heart still racing. “I could have killed you, Sylus!”

“That’s the spirit.” His hands drop, too.

“How did you even get in here?”

He’s turned back to the stove, and he’s using the spatula to push something around a frying pan. “Hmm…” he muses, then blink— he’s gone. He’s at your fridge a second later, materialising from thin air. “I wonder,” he finishes as he reaches around for something.

Show off. “You know how I feel about you telepor…” No. “Phas…” No. “Magic…king…?” By now he’s watching you over his shoulder. “You know— that thing you do.” You’re twinkling your fingers. “What do you even call that?”

“Magicking, yeah.”

You huff in response and he laughs, walking back over to where he’s cooking two steaks and preparing a salad. You’re still coming to terms with the fact he’s even here, looking... quite frankly ridiculous, because he’s wearing your apron. It’s too small for him. Baby pink. Frilly, too.

“You know how I feel about you magicking into my home,” you mutter distractedly, because actually? He’s kinda pulling it off. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, tight on his arms. “Use the door like a regular person, you psychopath.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He sounds smug. Ugh, he must feel your eyes on him; he must know. You think he’s toying with the idea of calling you out, but he doesn’t, and when he does speak, the smugness is gone. “Mephisto saw you were sleeping. I didn’t wish to disturb you. You sounded… tired. On the phone.”

Guilt twinges in your chest as you draw up beside him. “Is that why you’re here? Playing housewife?” You pick at a frill on the apron.

“Poke fun all you want,” he sneers. “This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

“Snob.”

“Ha.” You have to retract your hand as he threatens it with the spatula. “Watch yourself, sweetie. I’ll remember that the next time you ask to ‘borrow’ my card.”

You laugh gently. Now that’s a threat. You’re about to tell him so when you hear a ping from the other room, and your heart sinks. Just a single sound, and you’re back to where you were an hour ago, at your desk with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sylus hums in acknowledgment as you excuse yourself and hurry back to your workspace, snatching up your phone. You missed three calls while you sleeping: all from Xavier. He’s been texting you, too.

Nero’s yelling at me

Wants to talk to U

Can U pick up? Pls?

It’s one report, for gods’ sake. You feel your chest tightening again. You just needed to proofread it, but it’s probably fine, right? You wake your laptop out of standby; you’ll just send it as it is. “I’ll just be a minute, Sy,” you call out. “Need to finish one thing.”

He mumbles something in response, and you imagine it’s for the best you can’t hear it. Your keyboard clacks as you tap out a quick email to Nero, then you surf your files for the report he so desperately wanted. It should be… here. You attach it. Hit send.

Nothing happens.

Huh. You hit send again. Then again— still nothing. You groan, trying to back out of the email. None of your keys are working. Your cursor is stuck. “Oh, come on,” you release on an impatient breath. Switch it off, switch it on again? You hit the off button. The screen goes black.

With a sigh of relief, you wait a moment before switching it on again. The screen stays black.

“No, no, no, no,” you plead quietly, but it doesn’t cooperate. Your phone rings and you snap, hitting more buttons: Answer. Speaker. “What?” you hiss.

“Whoa. Hi…?” Xavier’s voice is cautious. “I don’t know if you saw my texts, but Nero—”

“The report, Xavier! I know! I know!” You try holding down your laptop’s power button. “I’m trying to send it, but my shitty computer won’t—”

“No way!” Tara’s voice comes in on the other line; did they both get the night shift? “Hey you! Did you get a chance to—”

“No, okay?!” you practically cry out. “No! Can you two just back off? Please!”

“Oh, sorry, I…” Tara sounds upset, then distracted. “Wait, Xavier wants to speak to you.”

“Are you okay?” he asks after a second.

Okay? You just want everything to stop. “I’m fine. Shit, tell Tara I’m sorry. I am sorry, Xavier, I just… I just need my laptop to…”

Work. Work! Nothing’s working. Half of your files are on there. How much of it is backed-up? Panic is setting in, gripping your body like ice. Your throat hurts and your mouth is dry, the dam is breaking and you can’t stop it. Tears prick at your eyes as you blink at the blank, hopeless screen. Your reflection stares back at you.

You let out a sob, expelling days of frustration and exhaustion. Everywhere you look there’s something you need to do, something you need to learn, something you need to finish. You can’t. You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your own cries.

Xavier is speaking— saying something over the phone— but you can’t hear him.

The light changes, and there’s a figure above you, lifting the phone from the desk. “They’ll call you back,” the shadow says. Sylus.

“Wait, who is this?” Xavier.

“That’s Skye!” Tara.

Your friends’ distant voices cut out as Sylus ends the call. He sets the phone down again, nudging your laptop out of view, then lowers himself until all you can see is him: his red eyes, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Come on, sweetie,” he coaxes, guiding your hands over his shoulders.

You understand what he’s asking of you. His arms wrap around you and you hold him tighter, letting him lift you out of your chair. He feels warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed from where he’s been standing over the stove, and he pulls your legs around his waist, letting him carry you with ease.

With your face buried in his shoulder, you can’t tell where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. His shirt is going damp against your cheeks. You want to stop crying, but you can’t with the taste of your tears on your lips. You feel weak. You feel pathetic.

Something solid is behind you, and Sylus is setting you slowly down on the kitchen counter. He’s away from you for a moment— moving the frying pan off of the heat and turning a dial on the stove— but then he’s back, standing between your legs, standing close. You’re looking down until his hand is under your chin, lifting it with the delicate touch one employs when inspecting a flower that might break.

He shushes you without a hint of impatience. “Look at me,” he directs quietly, and when you do, he unrolls his shirtsleeves— drawing the cuffs over his hands so he can use them to wipe your eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You do— you tell him everything. The hunter’s exam. The textbooks. The extra patrols you’ve been signing up for. The work you’ve been doing for your friends. The stupid report. The even more stupid computer.

Sylus listens collectedly, nodding his head and issuing the odd hum of understanding. He listens to all of it, and when you’re done, he pushes your hair back from your face with a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.” A tendril is tucked behind your ear. “You should have said something.”

“I know.” Your gaze is still shy of his. “But how can I? I need to do this— be this— for everyone.”

His hands are on your cheeks again, drawing back your focus. “You’re just one person,” he says. “You— just you— and that’s all you need to be. You’re stubborn, and strong, but you’re not invincible. Even Linkon’s shiniest hunter is allowed to have limits. Everyone does.”

“Even you?” you snivel, setting him up for a quip.

Nothing. He smiles. Shrugs. “Even me.”

It’s hard to believe when he’s staring back at you, oh so solid, oh so perfect. Always a picture of strength: of fiery determination or calculated coolness. Everything in extremes; nothing by halves. Except… his hair is slightly dishevelled from where he’s been working away in the heat. There’s a damp patch on his shirt. He’s wearing your pink apron, and there’s mascara on his sleeves.

Then there’s the way he’s looking at you.

It shifts when you finally look back. He drops his hands from your face and pulls back a little. “You do a lot for your friends,” he continues with confidence, but he’s rubbing his neck, “and they care about you. You should afford them the chance to return the favour. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right.”

“…Good.”

Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve vaguely composed yourself— or the way you’re watching him like you’re seeing something new— but he straightens self-consciously, rolling his shirtsleeves back up as his eyes go sharp: assuming their usual severity.

“You’re too soft, kitten,” he scolds, reaching out to tousle your hair until you’re glaring daggers from behind a curtain of it. “How many times do I have to tell you? You put yourself first. Always. No-one else matters.”

There’s quiet for all of a second. He can’t help correcting: “Well, except me, of course.” The apron’s crooked, and he flattens it with a brush of his hands. “Any time spent with me qualifies as self-care. You really should know that by now, sweetie.”

Your mouth curls, but you haven’t quite got it in you to laugh— not yet. Stretching his neck with two sideways tips of his head, Sylus returns to his post at the oven, where the meal he’s cooking has almost certainly gone cold. You watch as the stove flickers back to life. The man is humming again, and though the food might yet be salvaged, whatever melody he’s attempting is long-past recognition, let alone saving.

You chuckle to yourself.

And you can’t see it, but Sylus is smiling, too.

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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greenxgloss · 3 months ago

Note

Can we get a bts fanboy headcanon?

BTS as Fanboys

themes: Idol!Reader, Gn!Reader, Fluff, angst

Gonna be completely honest im not sure if you wanted bts as fanboys or how bts interacts with their fanboys so I'm gonna do them as fanboys bc I feel like that's the more interesting of the two (I'm so so sorry if that's wrong in which case you can totally request it again and be more clear I would totally re-write it if I'm wrong)

Kim Seokjin

Jin definitely roasts other fans and claims to be a day 1 supporter.

"I literally knew them when they just posted covers online.

Jin buys all your merch, official and unofficial.

Jin spends hours watching fan-made edits of you.

Jin plays the Sims4 just to create you as a sim and then spoil your sim but forces it to write new music when you're on break/hiatus.

"Close enough. Welcome back, Y/N. When's the next album?"

Jin makes his own video compilations of your funny moments and then laughs at them for hours.

Proud of his obsession and talks about you when he doesn't know what else to talk about with new people.

Attends fan meets

Jin makes memes of the fandom's inside jokes

Min Yoongi

Yoongi buys all your albums (cd form, vinyl form etc.) just to have and collect

He writes fanfiction of you (series, one shots etc) mostly fluff but there is the occasional smutty fic, hyper erotic and juicy asf but still respectful.

He's secretly hugely infatuated but still keeps it subtle/ to himself

"Yeah their music is always in my playlists." with his usual kitten smile.

"Collaborating on something with them would be a huge accomplishment." Hed calmly reply to comments about you on weverse live.

Yoongi paints portraits of you/ makes tons of fan art but its not obvious that its fanart because he makes it look like regular everyday art.

Yoongi not only watches your interviews, he reads them, enjoying the articles far more than video interviews.

"they seem much more comfortable and open in the written interviews" hed say to himself

He's so delulu he learned all your rumoured favourite foods and how to cook them "just in case"

zones out thinking about the meanings behind your songs

Youre his celebrity crush

Yoongi doesn't attend fan meets or concerts because he a more lowkye/ private fan

just interact with the fandom

Jung heosok

Hobi writing remixes of your songs constantly

Hobi being the only one of the boys to actually be friends with you in real life

"can I get on a remix of your recent single?"

Gossiping with him about other idols

"did you hear about the scandal that group was in? they haven't even debuted yet." while tapping your hand before leaning back.

him still being a mega fan despite being friends with you

Having a yoongi and halsey dynamic

begging you to stream on weverse all the time just because he knows other fans want it just as bad.

"come on!! please just an hour. ill get you those cookies you really love.

reposting all your Instagram posts with sweet captions.

"bestie is looking so good!!!" with a ton of emojis

recreating your tiktok dances

also starts dance trends to your music and encourages people to jump on the trend

"I'll repost your video if you do this dance." big heart shaped smile.

Kim Namjoon

namjoon studies your lyrics, finds the double meanings and the word play

"reviews" and reacts to your music in YouTube videos

watches the countdown to your music being released on whatever platform (youtube, weverse etc.)

"supposedly the camera rig malfunctioned on set, that's why the camera is so shaky but they didn't re-shoot because it added to the windy scene" he'd say all jumpy and giddy like a kid on a sugar rush

has your autograph framed from the one and only time he met you

namjoon was very flustered and shy when he met you

"oh uh yeah I love your music and the double meanings in your last song."

gushes about the cinematography in your music videos

Namjoon writes questions he'd ask you if he got to interview you

Watches movies and tags you as characters that remind him of you

Park Jimin

Loves to let your music play while he's doing something and then harmonizes with your vocals

buys Vip tickets to all your events

posts your lyrics on social media

"this part omg!!!"

One time you smiled at him in the crowd and he freaked out and bragged about it for months

"they totally smiled at me last night"

"do you think they remember me from the fan meet last month?"

he's constantly talking with other fans

jimin makes bracelets with letter beads that spell your name or album names

jimin copies your makeup just because he thinks you're the picture of beauty purely in a view of admiration

he views you like greek statues.

"wow- their cheekbones-" he'd say in awh, face right up to the screen while he held a mirror and makeup brush in hands.

Kim Taehyung

requests your songs at parties and other events

begs the guys to do a cover of your songs on stage

name drops you in interviews and is always talking about you in his own interviews

has a huge crush on you and will say so proudly

"they're so pretty. Y/n if you see this, call me." with a sly smirk on his face, completely disregarding the uproar it would cause with army

Taehyung gets super shy when you say his name

Being shy despite being so confident when he talks about you in interviews

"uh- oh- the new song- yeah." while giggling

apologizing profusely when you tease him about the interviews when he comes to fan meets

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook would write a song about you that's how down bad he is

Posts on social media in hopes you see it

Kook argues with taehyung about thinking he'd treat you better given the chance

argues with jin about being a bigger fan

picks out his outfits to coordinate with yours

kook hopes to run into you at award shows

stalks your fanpages

reads yoongis fanfiction about you

probably is the more devoted fan among the other members

sings your songs all the time, in the car, shower, while cooking, etc.

the only one of the boys that talks to you confidently

"Your style is amazing, I take inspiration all the time." while standing up straight and s soft confident smile on his lips, eye contact unwavering.

but he would never admit that he's written and released songs about you

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

sorry this took so long i was trying to get all the requests in order! i hope these were up to par hcs are usually very rushed. if you'd like something more detailed or even full drabbles id totally be down to do that. if you wanna be tagged in future works to be notified when I've posted a fic please fill out the taglist form linked below along with the masterposts

➽ Yoongi Masterlist ➽ Main Masterlist ➽ Taglist Form

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n0tamused · 1 year ago

Note

I'm here to make a Dr. Ratio request!!

How do you think Ratio would handle having a short s/O? (Talking about around 4'9/145cm bc I'm that tiny 😭)

Do you think he would 'lose' them when walking together even though they're right next to him? (That happens to me sm you can't even imagine)

- 🦐

A/n: Anon, where did your height go, my friend?... 😭 I'm so sorry- hshsfhghsa please enjoy these silly hcs <3 mwah

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN!Reader, fluff, crack, a bit short, sorry

-He may not ever admit it, but he finds the height difference between you and him quite endearing. It’s one of those “small things” for him that really does make him break into a barely noticeable smile, it’s amusing

-Sometimes he would taunt you by doing the “oh wait I gotta bend down to hear you” thing if you’re trying to argue with him, but this can either cause more of a flare from you or make you flustered (remember how he leaned in TB’s face in the quest cutscene-). He knows the effect this can have so he uses it to his advantage where he can.

-It’s so easy to flick your forehead if you’re not listening to what he’s saying, but it’s also so easy to pat your head when you do well or if he sees you could use some wordless comfort

-He is quite tall, so sometimes you’re quite literally not in his sight at all. And in crowds you can get lost quite easily unless he has your hand in his.

-If he turns around to find you’re no longer there, he gets both alarmed and frustrated, his eyes immediately scanning the surroundings and looking for the familiar head amidst the masses, his sharp gaze may as well shoot lasers if he catches someone looking at him curiously. His aura alone speaks business - he stands on business.

-Even he is stumped on HOW he lost you but he doesn’t have time to ponder it as he walks around in circles until he finds you on the side petting some cats or window shopping

-After he finds you he makes it a point to both keep you in his sights, and to have some hold on you, be it holding your hand or having a hand on your shoulder/upper back to lead you through the crowds. Even if he is not big on PDA, hand holding is a must for the sole reason he doesn’t lose you

-Gets so sassy with you at times, especially if you run off on purpose, you won’t hear the end of it

-But at home he certainly does sass you a lot for a man that welcomes your cuddles as he relaxes with a book in hand, you laying on top of him. You slot yourself so perfectly against his body and tuck your head into his neck. He feels his cheek become warm, dusted with a light blush, but he only clears his throat and focuses on his book.

-One big hand rests on your lower back, keeping you where you are even if you shift in your sleep. And admittedly it gets him to sleep sooner too, your warmth and touch too inviting to lose to the printed words he probably read before in his classes

-Another thing he thinks of doing is making you his muse, and he probably has sketches of you somewhere, elegant and beautiful, like you <3

#-dragon.treasure #Dr Ratio #Veritas Ratio #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gn reader #honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail headcanons #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio headcanons #veritas ratio x you #veritas ratio x reader #veritas ratio x yn #crack headcanons

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usagiarchive · 2 months ago

Note

blade x gn reader, fluff

okay so blade has been infecting my brain so much recently I just can't get enough of him

something I specifically love the idea of is blade with aftercare after a particularly rough/degrading session (especially for reader). like the intimacy of taking care of one another, of coming down from dom/sub headspaces, the reassurance that none of the harm was caused in malice.... ugh I need this man so bad 😓

aftercare — blade x reader

sypnosis. [ 0.4k. slightly suggestive at the start !! then just fluff. ]

usagi's note: HII HOPE I DID HIM JUSTICE FOR U!! im not the best at writing dom/sub, but i am a sucker for soft aftercare!! tell me ur thoughts on it! enjoy blade lvrs! 💕

“Darling, you okay?” Blade asks, worried, as he pulls out, breathless.

You raise your face from the pillow and hold a thumbs up, letting out a small hum of approval then flopping back onto the pillow.

He caresses your forearm, “Wait, baby, I'm gonna run you a bath,”

You nod into the pillow, relishing the feel of your sore muscles, feeling the bruising on your neck along with the indents of your lover's teeth blossom into red and purple.

You try to focus on getting the post-orgasm haze out of your system so you could breathe properly and not pass out. It was a good… hard session after all.

Just how he likes it (you do, too).

Blade wasn't a particularly rough lover, no, the mara aside, he's actually really soft and warm towards you. It's just… when things in the bedroom take place, he loses control and goes a bit… harder and rougher than usual.

All had been talked about before even it taking place, he was very thorough in asking what your boundaries were and learning your likes and dislikes in the throes of pleasure and passion.

He returns with a warm cloth and wipes you down, going softer on the spots where the bruises were starting to show.

When you flipped around, he gave you a quick peck, his hands supporting himself to hover above you.

“Hi.”

“Hi…” he whispers, “You alright, darling? I think I went a bit too hard tonight, sorry…” he looks genuinely remorseful that it breaks your heart.

Your hands cup his face and full him in for another, softer kiss.

“‘S alright,” you rasp, “Felt good, nothing I can't handle,” you reassure him.

Blade pouts a little, nibbling on the inside of his lower lip.

“I didn't mean it,” he says quickly, eyes alert and worried, “You're not a slut, you're not worthless or good for nothing,” he says, the end becoming a bit muffled as he buries himself in the crook of your neck.

Oh, this big baby…

“I know, honey, I know, don't worry, I know those were just to get the mood going,” you giggle a bit.

He whines, “Still…” then pulls away, hovering over you once more, “I love you, more than anything, you're not any of what I said, you're mine and I care for you,”

Your heart melts and your face betrays you when it morphs to let out a sappy smile.

“Love you, too, Blade,”

The two of you spend the next quarter of an hour cuddling as Blade massages the sore parts of your body. Talking about what had just happened, things you really liked and would like to happen again, and things you had a slight iff about.

“How about that bath?”

“Yes, absolutely, I made it warm for you.”

“Thanks, honey.”

usagi's note: again thanku for requesting and tell me what u thought!! hope i did good hehe, ill try to improve more ^^

GIRL IM NOT KIDDING ITS 6 AM, I HAVEN'T SLEPT AND I HAVE CLASSES (😭) AT 10 AM. im gonna kms i hate mondays bcs i have to go to class early, but its kinda okay i guess cuz i go home at 4 like ???.

@usagiarchive 2025. do not repost, translate, or use for AI. reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated!!

#🗡️ — BLADE.#🍰 — usagi's works !!#blade x you #blade x y/n #blade x reader #hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #dividers by cafekitsune

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kenslilove · 1 year ago

Text

᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Who’s Little Sister?! Pt.2

preview: You called him your boyfriend? Why would you do that? Draken isn't sure he's cut out to be the boyfriend to Takemichi's precious little sister...

ft. Ken "Draken" Ryuuguji x fem!reader

wc. 9kish... help 🫠🤪😰😵‍💫🥴🤡

W. NFSW 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (Draken is in his late 20’s and owns the bike shop, reader is in their early 20’s in university), fem reader (takemichi’s little sister), crybaby/bimbo reader, angsty in the middle, Draken is very insecure of his ability to be in a relationship, slight exhibitionism (Draken fucks you while on call), multiple cream pies, messy make-outs, oral (m!receiving), mating press, squirting, lots of praise, aftercare, lots of pet names, it gets soft and passionate at the end 🥹🥹

an. The long-awaited part 2 of “Who’s Little Sister.” I put my heart, soul, and pussy into this piece. I think it's my favourite thing I've ever written in all honesty, it very much encapsulates how I think Draken’s and I’s relationship would start. God, I love him so much. It’s also the first time I've written anything remotely angsty though, and I can’t tell if it's lame or not LMFAO. Please, let me know what you think. I'm so very happy to be reposting this piece on this blog to share with yall, it’s literally so important to me <33 and I’m so so happy this is the fic that is bringing back my writing spark! Part 3 will hopefully be even better than this 🙏🏼🤭 Constructive feedback, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

extra note: Listen to “Nothings gonna hurt you baby.” By Cigarettes After Sex during the last scene. It’s Kenny’s and I’s selfship song and help inspired me for the ending <33

tagging: @enchantedforest-network @eveningatthemoviesnetwork and @shoyosdoll bc you've been such a supporter of this fic hehe <33 i hope you love part 2 as much as part 1 <33

“Draken-Kun, are you coming tonight?”

There was silence on Draken’s end of the phone as all the other males on-call waited for a response. Mikey was the first one to say something back, annoyance clear in his tone as he spoke directly into the receiver, making his voice sound much louder than necessary.

“Oi, Ken-Chin, get off the phone if you’re just gonna ignore us.”

“Sorry–” Draken finally responded, his voice seeming just a bit more… strained than usual. Not enough for the boys to notice until he grunted softly, what seemed to be creaking or something muffled in the background of his audio call.

“You good, dude?” Mitsuya piped up, his own voice a little muffled due to a sewing needle between his lips but nothing like Draken’s.

“Oh yea, fuckin peachy–” Draken breathed in response, his huff coming out as a soft laugh when a bit of sweat started to roll down his temple.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t really paying attention to the call, how could he, when you, Takemichi’s precious little sister was underneath him, sprawled out and trembled as his cock drilled into you at a steady pace. You were biting down on your bottom lip so hard, Draken swore that blood would free itself soon from the delicate flesh, your eyes screwed shut as your pretty chest bounced with each thrust of his hips. You were trying so hard for him to be quiet, just like he instructed as soon as he picked up the phone. The attempt was adorable, considering how vocal you usually were for him.

But Draken was twisted, he knew that deep down, so he just couldn’t help himself when he angled his hips just right so his cock head would jab right into that gummy sweet spot within your walls. You yelped, pleasure shooting up your spine, only for the sound to be cut off by the smack of Draken’s free palm clamping over your mouth.

“Who has a girl over~?” Baji piped up, suddenly very much interested in the conversation. Draken laughed shallowly into his receiver, his hand tightening up along your jaw as he continued to ram into the spot that made you see stars. You couldn’t even control your babbles when he did this, an endless stream of whimpers and sobs being muffled into his palm as you held onto his wrist for dear life.

“Gotta go, Text me what time I needa be there–” Draken didn’t wait for a response from his friends. Instead, he hung up quickly, abandoning the device somewhere on the bed. When he released the hold on your mouth you whined at him, the tears finally spilling from your eyes.

“K-Kenny, Kenny please– Please–!”

“So fuckin loud pretty, all the damn time,” Draken says it with a grin, easily manhandling your thighs over his shoulders so he can fuck into you deeper. He presses a kiss to your ankle, right beside the anklet he bought you as your pussy flutters so desperately around his cock.

“O-Oh! Please, Ken–!”

“Please what?” Draken grunts, his hips slapping up against yours ruthlessly now as his release comes dangerously close. He knew you weren’t far behind. Had learned your signs very early on. Your toes would curl, your eyes would get foggy, chest stuttering. Your pussy would milk him so tight and leave rings of arousal on his cock.

And he loved every second of it.

“Wanna cum, needa cum again–!” you pleaded with him, nails digging into the muscles of his flexing biceps. He nodded in agreement, his own voice becoming hoarse due to the sheer squeeze of your pussy. Although his pace started to get sloppy he still fucked into you, one hand slithering between your sweaty bodies in order to massage ruthlessly at your clit.

“Go on then, cum, make a fuckin mess f’me gorgeous.” He breathes, licking his lips when you throw your head back with a cry. The mess you make on his cock is breathtaking, arousal squirting from your used hole and dousing his hand, wrist and abs. He swears under his breath at the borderline painful grip your pussy has on his cock when you finish, one final thrust allowing him to spill ropes of cum right up against your cervix.

Draken’s trembling when he falls onto his elbows over you, his breath coming out a bit shaky as his cock still twitches within your walls in the aftermath of both of your highs. He starts pressing wet, opened-mouthed kisses along your neck and face to help you come too, a soft chuckle leaving his lips when you whine softly.

“You okay baby?” His voice is a whisper, and as the energy slowly comes back to you he smooths his palm over your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye to pick up leftover tears. You nod, one of your trembly hands lazily dragging through his black locks of hair. “Mhm, m’good, Kenny. Help me sit up?” He does, one big palm on the back of your neck to help you to sit up against the headboard.

He presses a smooch to your lips before easing himself out of you, both of you wincing softly from the loss of contact. It’s only when he pulls out completely and his softening cock falls against his thigh that he realises just how big of a mess the two of you made of yourself and the sheets. It makes him swell with pride, a grin slowly curling on his lips.

You’ve come a long way, from the sweet girl who was just learning to cream on his cock to the messes you’ve made on his bed on the daily.

“M’gunna get a cloth.” He says, handing you a glass of water and your phone as soon as he stands to keep you occupied. His muscles are still a bit tingly as he stands, arms stretching up and above his head as he heads towards the bathroom.

“Nice butt!” You call out, making him snort softly as he stands before the bathroom mirror. He can’t help but admire the marks you’ve littered across his neck and chest, the cute little bruises reminding him of the shape of your puckered lips. He then examines the nail marks you’ve left along his forearms and shoulders, some of the red pathways breaking in the middle to show little droplets of blood. Lastly, he sighs dreamily at the sheen of your arousal that coats his pelvis, a ring of white still layered at his base.

Man knew he was in heaven.

When he came back to the bedroom after tidying himself a bit, as well as with a cloth in hand you were on the phone with someone, giggling into the receiver and looking up at Draken with a playful glint in your eye.

“I’ll actually meet with you later, m’with my boyfriend right now~” Despite the way your giggling increased and you squealed to your friend about how you’ve mentioned him before with such excitement, Draken was anything but that.

His chest tightened up, crease forming between his brow. Boyfriend? When did that become his title?

“Kennnnnny~” You snapped him out of his thoughts, though his brows stayed furrowed. “Hurry! The mess is only getting bigger over here.”

One hand was planted on the mattress as he gently wiped the dampened towel over your pussy and thighs, your hand coming to cover his, making him pause in your tracks. “Shouldn’t scowl so much, handsome.” You murmur it gently, thumb gently smoothing between his brows in an attempt to fix the crinkles there. “You’ll get wrinkles~”

“You called me your boyfriend–” His voice was blunt, which took you by slight surprise. A little pout formed on your swollen lower lip as you subconsciously squeezed at his wrist.

“Well, yea–”

“We haven’t talked about that.” He was still being blunt as ever, so much so it almost startled you, made you feel much smaller under him as he sat up on his hunched, throwing the soiled cloth into the laundry bin.

“I-I know…” You simply muttered, chest started to feel tight as you watched just how serious his face had become. He was tugging his strands of black hair into a low bun when you sat up a bit more, fingers gently brushing over his chest. “But I just thought, thought that we were together…”

And it wasn’t wrong for you to think that way. Ever since that first night at Draken’s apartment the two of you had been secretly hanging out. You went out to restaurants, and the local arcade took his bike to the mountainside and watched the sunset. The two of you had bought little things for one another, like the gold anklet that sat pretty on your ankle and the hello kitty keychain that was currently attached to his bike keys. You even made sure to turn off your location so Takemichi couldn’t see just how often you were having sleepovers at Draken’s place.

You two did the things that couples did together. You two did the things that you saw Takemichi and Hina do on the regular. Dare you even say, you did things with Draken that he and Emma used to do–

Plus, he was fucking you every chance he got.

“Well, maybe you shoulda thought about talkin to me about it first before you go squealing that I’m your boyfriend.” His tone was harsher than he wanted it to be, a tone he usually used with his friends but never really with you. It had you suck in a soft breath, suddenly feeling very exposed curled up in nothing but his bedsheets.

“You don’t have to be so mean–”

“M’not being mean, I’m being realistic. It ain’t cute to just assume I’m your boyfriend when we haven’t talked about anything official.” He was off the bed now, tugging up his boxers. When you didn’t respond he sighed. “We hang out and fuck around, why do we need to be more than–”

When he turned around again to look you in the eye his own voice caught in his throat. Your eyes had gotten wide, a glossy layer of tears hiding the usual beautiful shine your gaze held. Your lower lip was trembling softly, fingers clutching onto the covers so tightly he noticed how your knuckles turned white.

“Hey–”

“M’gunna go.” You interrupted, the crack in your tone only making his heart plummet harder in his chest. As you got to your feet, his blanket securely wrapped around you he grabbed both your shoulders.

“Hey, don’t be like that (Y/N), you don’t even have a ride–”

“Gunna call Michi.” You slipped out of his grasp by tucking yourself out from under his hands, bending to grab at your clothes scattered across the ground.

“Like hell you are. We’re not telling him about us, remember what happened last time?” Draken could still hear the boy's ruthless comments after that first night, the crack of Baji’s fist against his jaw–

“Don’t care, wanna go home.” Your muttering had gotten softer, ready to slip into the bathroom and shut the door right in his face.

“Would you stop being such a brat?” Draken grabbed at your arm this time, tugging it back towards him. He himself hadn’t expected it to be so forceful, the little squeak you released and the falling of tears instantly making him let go of you. You both stared at each other a little shocked, Draken’s breath froze in his throat and his fingertips went a bit cold as you looked at him.

Teary-eyed, shrunken in. Scared. Were you scared of him?

Without a word, you finally went into the bathroom, and it was only then that Draken let out his frustrated breath, cheeks feeling hot as he clenched his fists up at his sides. Fuck, what the fuck was happening right now. He hated this nonsense, hated just how frustrated he felt, hated that look on your face, hated that he couldn’t even really understand what emotions were running through his head.

Why was he mad anyway? Why was any of this really a big deal?

He used his own phone to call you a cab, knowing you wouldn’t actually call Takemichi to pick you up. You had also gotten an ear full after getting caught, and as much as you trusted your brother, the last thing you needed right now was a lecture. You stayed locked in the bathroom until Draken gave the wood a gentle knock with his knuckles.

“Cabs here…” He murmured. You didn’t look at him when you walked out, eyes bloodshot and downcast and when slipped past him fully clothed. He watched from the ledge of his bed, jaw set rigid as you so casually adjusted your bag over your shoulder, now a little overfilled with the stuff you had started to accumulate in his bathroom. Something slipped from your fingertips onto his kitchen counter before you made a beeline for the door, Draken only getting up when it closed firmly behind you.

He approached slowly, that odd feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach seeming to grow, expanding into his chest as he noticed the subtle twinkle on the countertop. It was the anklet he bought you, dainty, gold, shiny, his initials hanging from the small tag.

“Fuck—!“ His emotions boiled over into anger, face red when his fist connected with the drywall. A crack formed in the white fall, his knuckles taking on a deep purple almost instantly as he pulled his clenched fist back to his side. Instead, he let his forehead rest in the dent he just made, thoughts spiralling, making his heart pound in his chest.

Had he really just done that? Made a big deal over nothing? Put his hands on you? And for what?

You called him your boyfriend… was that really… so wrong?

Was he really so set on “not being a sister fucker”, did he really care so much about what the boys thought, what people said about him, that he was willing to let you go?

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed leaned up against the wall like that, thoughts running wildly through his mind, making it pound. Eventually, when his eyes started to get sore, narrowing down in an attempt to hold back unwanted angry tears he moved back to his room to plop himself down into bed. And he didn’t get up for the rest of the evening.

It had been a week.

One whole week since you had left Draken’s apartment, and the two of you had not spoken since. Day three was when Draken caved and texted you, considering you had turned your location off for him so he couldn’t check up on you from time to time.

“Are you okay? Please, we need to talk.”

Radio silence. The message was left unread by you. He even sent another the day after, just a quick message but a little more firm than the last.

“Don’t shut me out like this.”

And still, nothing. It was killing Draken from the inside out. Each day that passed made him more anxious than the last. Were you okay? Did you hate him now? Were you crying to your brother? Draken couldn’t ask Takemichi about you, cause he didn’t even know you two were a thing in the first place. But every time he saw his black-haired friend his heart would stutter, tightening up in his chest.

You laughed just like he did. Were you laughing right now?

Draken had a bad habit of letting things like this consume him. Almost everything seemed to remind him of you or something the two of you had done and it was driving him a little crazy. And all because you had called him your boyfriend.

All because Draken was afraid to commit to someone again despite his need to do so. All of his friends always thought he was so mature, and yet here he was, working through feelings that were staring him right in the face like some teenage boy.

He kept his headphones in at the shop, his body hunched slightly on the stool he set up beside the bike he was currently repairing. The music was loud, drowning out not only the background noise but his thoughts that seem to repeat themselves over and over. His brows were slightly furrowed when he lifted from the busted engine only a moment, just enough to wipe away excess sweat that built up on his brow.

That’s when he caught a glimpse of you. It made his heart pause mid-beat, breath hitching in his throat. He caught the last bits of you as you rounded the corner that led up the stairs, probably in search of Takemichi But that didn’t matter.

Draken found himself scurrying from his seat, the stool skidding from under him as he was quick to follow suit. With long strides, he made it to the stairs and there you were, hand on the railing, one of those cute little skirts he loved hugging your waist just right. He called out to you, twice actually, quickly pulling his headphones from his ears when you actually turned to look at him.

“Hey–”

“I won’t be long.” You simply responded, voice sounding much too sad for Draken’s liking. He noticed how your hand tensed up on the railing when he approached and it made him frown. “I’m just grabbing something for Michi–”

“I wanna talk to you.” He took another step, a tentative one. He hated how your eyes were already getting a little glassy. “Let’s just talk, sweetheart.”

“Don’t wanna talk, Ken.” There was that familiar shake in your tone, the one he had become very aware of. You were just like your brother in so many ways.

His sweet little crybaby.

“C’mere…” He was on the step right in front of you now, the levelling allowing him to lean down just a bit so his face could be close to yours. You took your time meeting his gaze, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. “It’s okay baby…”

“You–” He could tell you were trying to gather your bearings, trying so desperately not to crumble and let the tears fall that were already sitting in your lashes. He was patient with you, scared that if he went in too strong you’d just run off from him again. You sucked in a shaky breath before continuing. “You really hurt me, Draken.”

He could have hissed, chest getting a little tight. He hated the way that nickname sounded coming from you.

“I know, I know little love and–”

“Do you not wanna be my boyfriend? I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you–”

“Then be my boyfriend.” It had been a bit more firm than he expected, your brows set and a little pout on your lips after you spoke it. Had things been a little different, he would have told you just how proud he was of you for standing your ground like that.

“It’s not, it's just not that simple.” It was his turn to think his words over, lips catching between his teeth as those doubtful thoughts started returning to him. He was right, wasn’t he? It wasn’t that simple because–

“Why not?” You were being blunt again, words bordering on angry as you sniffled. The first few tears finally fell and Draken wanted nothing more than to wipe them away.

“Well to start, there’s your brother–”

“I don’t care what Michi thinks!” You groaned it out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I wanna be with you, Ken–”

“But–” He really hated that he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

“What are you so afraid of?”

That really made Draken stop, eyes widening just a bit as he looked back into your teary ones. Your chest was heaving a bit as the silence sat heavily between the two of you. Draken blinked, once, twice, brain reeling over this one simple question.

Draken had been in many fights, grew up in a brothel, seen blood and gore and sex and a lot of things people shouldn’t see. He wasn’t scared any of those times. So, why now? Why was he so scared now as he looked into your eyes that were basically pleading with him for an answer.

“I–” His words were shaky, and finally broke the intense gaze the two of you were sharing as he looked down. “I dunno.”

There was another beat of silence before you continued up the staircase. Draken only looked up when he knew you were at the top, far enough away from him that he didn’t have to feel like your gaze was piercing him. He wished that he didn’t look though, wished that he hadn’t seen that sad smile on your lips.

He never wanted to see that ever again, not on you.

“I hope I’ll still be around when you figure it out.”

Drake wasn’t sure how much time had passed now since he had seen you. The first few days he refused to even think about that interaction on the stairs. That sad smile of yours easily pulls his heart apart and thinking back on it only made him more and more pissed at himself.

So instead of thinking of you, he filled his time with work. He found himself opening and closing the shop, despite Inui trying to make him go back to their balanced schedule. He took on more projects, burying himself under the weight of grease and bolts instead of dealing with the weight that now sat in his chest.

You hadn’t come back to the shop yet either, he had a feeling you’d never come back.

What got Draken out of work early one night was a call from Mitsuya. He called twice before Draken reluctantly picked up the phone, the annoyance clear in his tone as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

“Ya know m’working–”

“Well, you sound just delighted to hear from me~” Mitsuya hummed, chuckling when he heard Draken’s grunt from the other end of the phone. Mitsuya was organising threads by colour when he spoke. “Come over tonight?”

“I don’t feel like partying,” Draken answered back right away. What he meant though was that he didn’t wanna go in case Takemichi was there because then he would only remind him of–

“It’s not gonna be a party doofus, it’ll just be us two.” Draken made a look of disgust, more so at the insult than anything else. “Just come.”

“I have shit to do here–” He was trying his best to get out of this, but if anyone could see through Draken’s bullshit, it was Mitsuya.

“You’ve locked yourself in that damn shop for the past week, I know you can make a little time to go out. Let Inui close tonight.”

“Nah, it’s my night.” It wasn’t.

“Bet you haven’t even showered.”

“Oh fuck off–” Draken grunted, sniffing himself only because Mitsuya wasn’t there to give him the side-eye. He scowled softly to himself when the scent he picked up coming from his overalls was far from pleasant. “Will you quit nagging me if I come, mom?”

“Absolutely buddy.” Mitsuya was chuckling softly, rolling in his chair to pull back up to his sewing table. “See you at 7, doofus.”

Draken wasn’t given the opportunity to snap back with something clever, the phone went dead right away. With a huff Draken resultantly found himself putting his tools away, tucking his overused workbench in its proper corner so he could head off to Mistuya’s.

But not without a shower first.

Draken’s hair was still damp when he headed for Mitsuya’s place. With how fast Draken sped his bike down the freeway, it only took about ten minutes tops. Draken lugged a case of beer with him up to the familiar walkway that belonged to Mitsuya’s townhouse. When he opened the door he still had his work glasses on, a lazy grin tugging on his features when he was met with the sight of Draken’s scowling face.

“Would you look at that, he showered.”

Draken just rolled his eyes, nudging past Mitsuya and making himself at home. The two found themselves quickly situated on the couch, spread out on each end and open beers on coasters. Mitsuya had pulled out his old N64, so the two were currently in a round of Mario kart. The silence had been comfortable between the two, as it usually was until Mitsuay finally decided to speak up.

“So, what's got you fucked up?”

“What?” Draken said with a short laugh, his eyes staying glued to the tv screen.

“You only get all solitary like this when something is really bothering you, so–”

“Nothin’s up, m’good.” Draken simply grunted, which quickly turned into a scowl when Mitusya passed him for first place in the game. “Quit distracting me.”

“Is it Takemichi’s little sister?”

Draken almost choked on his beer, finally looking away from the screen to look at Mitsuya who was still calm as ever. Only after he passed the finish line did he meet Draken’s gaze, one brow lifted up.

“What about her?”

“You were seeing her–”

“I was not.”

Now it was Mitsuya’s turn to laugh, a hearty one too that only made Draken’s brows furrow further. He pulled his glasses from his face, sighing out as he shook his head.

“You think you’re so hard to read, but you’re not.” Mitsuya kept talking before Draken could bark at him. “I know you kept seeing her after that night.”

“Okay, so?” Draken wasn’t sure why he was getting so defensive, maybe it was because it pissed him off that Mitsuya knew him better than he knew himself.

“So, did you two break up?”

“We were never together.” Draken simply stated, going to start another round of Mario kart. But as soon as the words left his lips he hated the way they sounded, and now that they were out there, floating around his head it made him grip his controller a little tighter.

“Oh, you weren’t?” Mitsuya said, that dumb smile of his making Draken shake his head, grit his teeth even. It was Mitsuya’s turn to scoff, tipping his beer back to polish it off. “You are such a fuckin doofus dude.”

“Watch your mouth man–”

“Why are ya doing this to yourself?” Draken sucked in a little breath. The silence hung in the air between them a little and Mitsuya rolled his eyes when he saw how Draken’s head tipped slightly to the side in confusion. He continued as he opened up another beer. “Why aren’t you letting yourself be happy? You can do commitment, you’ve done it before.”

Draken felt a little frozen in place, eyes unfocused as he tried to process what Mitsuya had so obviously laid out for him. His heart started to pick up in his chest as he really thought it over, well at least tried to. “Yea, I did it before and look what happened.”

Flashes of his relationship with Emma were impossible to ignore. How things went from wonderful to terrible so quickly. How the two of them became each other's world so fast for it all to crash and burn. The fighting, the lies, how he was so scared after he lost her but to also lose everyone he loved. His found family was all he had, and if they had decided to up and leave–

“Sure, it was a bad breakup,” Mitsuya spoke with a simple shrug of his shoulders, looking at Draken’s pained face over the lip of his bottle. “But it didn’t stay bad, did it?”

“Guess not…” Draken murmured. It didn’t. He didn’t lose his best friends, he didn’t even really lose Emma. After time apart and some growing up, the two had gone back to speaking terms.

“So, let yourself be happy, dude.”

“But she’s another little sister–”

“Yea you have a type.” Mitsuya couldn’t help but laugh, especially after Draken sent his controller flying at him. Mitsuya thankfully caught it, holding a hand up in defence. “Relax! I’m joking… The boys are gonna bug you about it, but Draken, who the fuck cares.”

Draken slowly nodded at that, allowing himself to really think it all over. He had never been the type to care so much about what others thought about him. He was letting himself get in his head for something that was already over and done with. Rubbing his hand over his forehead, he picked up another beer, shaking his head as he twisted the top off to chug some of it down.

“I hate you, you know that?” He mumbled to Mitsuya, which only made him laugh out loud in response. He clinked his bottle up against Draken’s.

“Love you too buddy. You should really make up with her.” Draken eyed Mitsuya over the lip of his beer. “I assume you said some dumb guy shit to her.”

Draken pouted, mumbling something along the lines of “maybe I did” before he took another drink. Looking down the stem of the bottle Draken sighed softly, thinking of that sad smile on your face. It made him scoff at himself. “I just– I’m not sure I’ll be able to treat her right, as her boyfriend.”

“Well, she’s stuck around this long, hasn’t she?” Mitsuya started to set up another game of Mario Kart for the two of them as Draken nodded slowly. “I’m sure if she didn’t think you’d treat her right, she woulda left.”

Those couple words were left lingering in Draken’s head the rest of the evening. Mitsuya didn’t bring it up again, and Draken didn’t dare to. But as he started to pass out on his friend's couch, he had one too many beers to be driving himself home, he really thought over what Mitsuya had said. What he knew was right.

I’m sure if she didn’t think you'd treat her right, she woulda left.

Draken chuckled softly to himself, his palm coming up to slap him right on the forehead. The sting made him hiss to himself, but it's what he deserved. He’d never admit it out loud, but sometimes he wished his brain worked the way Mitsuya’s did.

“I’m such an idiot.” He spoke, and it was Mitsuya sleepy agreeing with him on the couch beside him that had him laughing all over again.

He knew you’d be finishing classes up on campus right now, had picked you up and dropped you off many times before to know that you’d be coming out of the big college building any minute now. He parked right out front, his hands dug deep into his pockets as he watched the door. His eyes scanned over many faces, all different kinds, all of them filtering through, onyx gaze trying to lock onto–

You.

You were in the middle of giggling, those familiar wrinkles showing up around the corners of your eyes, your pretty manicured nails holding the books you had tighter to your chest. The image made him smile fondly, lips upturned just a little when the two of you finally made eye contact.

He was more than grateful that you returned the small smile. The darkest parts of him had conceived him; you'd simply walk right by him, or even turn around in the opposite direction. But instead, you excused yourself from your friends, who all couldn’t help but side-eye the older, imitating dude leaning on a motorcycle, dragon tattoo on full display with his hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. As you approach he speaks, unable to keep his eyes off your own.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Ken.” Just the way you say his name makes his heart flutter a little. He moves to the side, opening up the small compartment on his bike that’ll allow you to put your books inside.

“Come with me?” He asks, and the momentary silence makes him feel more nervous than he had in a long time. You could say no, he could have taken too long. You could have already slipped right out of his fingertips and it would be all his fault–

“Okay.” You simply reply, and your smile doesn’t falter. It stays as you tuck your books away, as he places his helmet on your bread and helps you adjust the straps. You in front of him on the bike just as you had on that first night he picked you up. His hands easily swallowed yours on the handlebars, and before you knew it the two of you were speeding off towards his place. You knew that because the route had become too familiar after the many times he’d whisked you away after school. Your heart was beating fast in your chest like it normally did when you rode on Draken’s bike. It filled you with a type of adrenaline you hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.

That and the fact that his hands seemed to be holding yours tighter than usual.

After a couple of sharp turns and uphill roads, you two made it to Draken’s apartment. He gave you your space as you two headed to his room a couple of floors up, his heart seeming to be in his throat. He needed to relax, he knew exactly what he had to say to you, knew what he had to do, and yet as he fiddled with his keys a bit to find the right one that opened his apartment, the familiar scent of your perfume was making his brain a little foggy.

It was the warmth of your fingers that shook him from whatever haze he was in, the tips of his ears feeling a bit hot as your fingers easily tugged the right key, helped him slip it into the lock. “It’s this one, Ken.” You say it as if your presence alone isn’t making him weak at the knees.

He just nodded, allowing you in first. Shoes were slipped off and the two of you found yourself in his kitchen. You stood right in the middle, your arms tucked neatly behind your back, hands clasped. He missed the way you used to make yourself at home, grabbing something from his fridge or sprawling out on his couch.

He wanted you to be that comfortable again.

“I really needed to see you.” He started, his voice a little hesitant. He cleared his throat, fingers once again in his pockets. He looked everywhere but at you, despite the way he felt your gentle gaze burning into him. “I needed, I just–” He huffed. “I really fucked up–”

There was your familiar warmth again, but instead, you were grabbing at one of his hands. So easily your fingers threaded into his, and suddenly the weight in his tummy didn’t feel all that heavy as he looked down at you, those wide pretty eyes he had missed so fucking much. “You did kinda fuck up–” You murmur, which makes him huff again, this time with a hint of laughter behind it. “I know I did. I know.”

He pulled you in a little closer, and he was so very grateful that you weren't resistant. In fact, you melted into his chest, your face finding that familiar comfortable spot against his peck, cheek pressed up against where you felt his heartbeat, which was currently pounding in his chest. He sucks in another breath, one hand coming to gently pet your head. “I’m sorry, I’m real sorry sweetheart…” He feels the way you start to tremble and it eats at him, brows furrowing up. “Please, don’t babygirl, m’tryna apologise to you–”

“Don’t be dumb like that ever again Ken.” Your voice waves and he knows you’re about to cry, but he doesn't stop you from speaking, if anything, your shaky words only make him hold you tighter, a fond smile coming to his lips. “Don’t leave me like that again!” Your voice cracks and Ken has to chuckle under his breath, but there's no bite to his laughter, only fondness. “Next time, just talk to me. I-I know I’m younger and inexperienced b-but I know what I want and that's you–”

That's when he finally stops you, one big palm cupping your cheek. He tilts your head up, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone before he's pressing a smooch to your lips. You both seem to relax against the embrace, and when he feels a salty tear hit his thumb he swipes it away, lips parting from your just enough so he can murmur against them.

“I know, lil love. I know.” When your lower lip trembles a bit a smile breaks out on his lips. One that makes the corner of his lips twitch, little wrinkles showing up around his eyes. His hands cup your neck so gently, thumbs pressing up against the underside of your jaw. He murmurs again, this time his words slurred along with your breathy, soft whimper. “I want you too…”

This time the kiss is desperate, needy. Your fingers turn white at the knuckles when you grip at his shirt, lips moulding against his own. Draken’s tongue is impatient, slithering into your open mouth and reexploring the warm cavern that is your mouth. He huffs when your chest presses flush to him, and with ease his big hands cup your thighs, scooping you into his embrace. Your legs cling to his waist without a thought, the giddy giggle bubbling from your lips and against his own making a bit of blush rise on his cheeks.

Oh, how he missed that sweet, sweet sound.

Draken tries not to trip over himself as he carries you off to his bedroom, his back hitting up against the door at the same time your teeth playfully tug at his bottom lip. He drops you down and the bounce of your body has both of you a little too excited, Draken’s shirt easily coming off as he tugs it up over his head.

“Lemme show you how badly I want you, baby.” His voice has already gotten deeper, and as his big hand comes to cup the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss he’s a bit surprised when both your palms press against his chest, pushing him away an inch.

Surprised and panicked. Was he moving too fast, did you think he was just using you in your vulnerable moment? Had he really fucked up so soon again–

His breath left him in a huff when his back hit the mattress, your body rolling over him. He blinked a few times as you straddled him, palms pressed against his chest and your face heated. He could tell that a flush was working its way up to your cheeks when you looked down at him, your body slowly scooting down from his waist to his hips.

“No, let me s-show you.” Despite just how nervous you were, Draken could tell by the way you chewed on your lower lip, how your fingers trembled a little, undoing his belt and zipper, his cock still twitched with excitement underneath you an odd sense of pride flowing through him.

You had come a long way, from the virgin he met all those months ago. He had just been the biggest idiot and here he was, pushing his hair from his face so he could watch how your pretty little hands handled his semi-hard cock with such care. How you looked at him first, batted your lashes when you leaned in and pressed the sweetest of kisses right to his tip.

“Oh fuck—“

Yea, he was never letting you go again, ever.

You took a deep breath through your nose before taking his tip between your lips, your eyes never leaving his dilated ones. He propped himself up on an elbow, free hand easing the hair away from your face. It was a sight that would be burned into his mind forever. Wide doe eyes, hand barely wrapped around his fat base, pretty lips suckling away at his tip.

“You’re gonna be the fuckin death of me pretty girl.” Draken chuckles breathlessly, and the little glint in your eyes tells him you would have smiled had your lips not been preoccupied. He kept his hand gentle on the back of your head as you slowly took more of him, your tongue flattening out against his underside. His head tilted back in a groan at your steady pace, the warmth of your mouth making his skin prickle with pleasure. His fingers curled in your hair just a bit, enough to hold him back from jerking his hips into you, make you gag–

He’d save it for another time.

“Atta girl…” He murmured, chest rising and falling a little faster as you gained your rhythm. Your eyes peaked up at him again, before you got back into it, cheeks hollowing as you took as much of him into your mouth as possible. You reached about halfway, which Draken noticed made your brows furrow up.

“S’okay, we’ve got plenty of time to make it fit, keep going lil love.” He encouraged, and you listened, head continuing to bob faster, sloppier. Draken could feel your drool dribbling down his shaft and onto his balls and it made him shiver. It didn’t help that your ass was up high, practically swaying like an excited little puppy just to be sucking him off. Swearing under his breath a moment as his balls suddenly felt all too tight, he pulled you off his cock, the pornographic pop of your lips making him grunt, you whine. The string of drool connecting your swollen lips to his cock was thick, and when it snapped onto your chin Draken could feel himself getting lightheaded.

“W-Why did you–” He silenced your whining with another fierce kiss, and without hesitation you were manhandled back into his pillows, flat on your back. He has no problem working your soiled panties off your thighs, deciding to just tuck the extra material of your skirt into the waistband “Felt fucking awesome.” Your panties are tossed right over your shoulder, a cute yelp leaving you when he hauls both your thighs up, over his shoulders. “But I wanna cum in this pretty pussy.”

From this position your pussy was split wide open for him, your clit poking out and throbbing from under the hood. He sighed, content, pausing his previous actions to lean in, pressing the softest of kisses right up against your clit.

“My pretty pussy.” His soft touch is gone, replaced with his burning desire to claim you again. A few rubs of his cock against your slicken folds, along with your drool is enough to get his cock wet enough to slip in. His breathing hitches once his head makes it past the tight ring of your muscles, the squeeze vice-like just from the simple intrusion.

“K-Ken–”

“Shh, I know.” He coos, hunching over you. With your thighs on his shoulders, his shifting has you in a mating press, a position that all too knew and is making your head spin. Your tummy folds the closer he gets to you, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your clit while the other intertwines with the hand you had gripping the sheets close to your head. “S’always gonna be a lil tight, isn’t it babygirl.”

You’re already moaning in a wonton fashion, eyes struggling to stay open as he rocks his cock head in and out, his thumb working at your nub. When your pussy starts fluttering for him he works in a few more inches, needy sounds spilling into each other mouth due to his lips staying inches away from your own. “Gonna take it all f’me? Be my good girl?”

You nod, and when you look at him again your eyes have that familiar glassy sheen he’s grown to love. He kisses you right under the eye before with one good push his cock is all the way inside. The sound you make is downright sinful, something between a cry and a mewl and it has Draken’s cock twitching within the tightness of your cunt. It makes his vision go a little stary, the growl he releases vibrating through his chest.

“Good fucking girl.” The slap of his hips into your ass resounds throughout the room, squelching soon coming from between your bodies. In this position his cock nuzzles your sweet spot, seeming to reach down deep, into parts of you that you didn’t even realise existed, and it quickly has you falling apart, babbles freely spilling from your lips, tears wetting your hot cheeks. Draken is quick to kiss them away, his fingers tightening around yours as he puffs hot pants along your face.

“D-Deep~!” You manage to squeak, and Draken has to crack a grin, his hips suddenly stopping their brutal pace just so he can roll them instead. That had you gasping, drool spilling from your hung lips as you look up at him with a gaze that's already beyond fucked out. “S’real deep baby, s’good though yea?”

You nod, fresh tears on your lashes. “Only the best for my baby.” He utters, hips switching back and forth between rutting and grinding. He’s convinced you’ve already cum on his cock, the amount of slick bubbling around his shaft and the tightness of your walls are his hints, but he keeps going, needing to fill you up after so long. Despite your cries, he brings his hand back to your clit, his rubs becoming sloppy. He only releases your hand to cup the back of your neck instead, keeping your foreheads pressed together.

“Eyes on me, lil love.” You do manage to open your teary eyes, meeting his dilated pupils. “Good, good girl.” His body starts to twitch, broad shoulders rippling and his thighs starting to tremble as his own release quickly builds in his gut. “I– fuck. Baby, I love you, pretty–”

And despite just how dumbed out you were moments before, those words seem to bring some clarity to your eyes. Your fingers tangle into his sweaty hair, gripping it at the roots for your sanity. The pleasant little laugh you let out and breathe against his lips makes his heart jump against his ribcage.

“I love y-you Ken, love you so much, Kenny–”

His climax hits him hard, the full-body chill he experiences making goosebumps rise along his spine as he fills you up. The feeling of his warm, thick cum is enough to have you coming undone right along with him, the sensation being yet another new one when liquid seems to gush past your little hole. It makes Draken’s balls tighten up instantly, the warm splash of your arousal onto his fingers that still gently coax pleasure out of your clit. And he can’t help but grin, a boyish grin that quickly turns into a grunt. “Fuck, fuckin squirtin on me, how cute.”

He doesn’t pull out, he can’t. He needs to be close to you, keep your limp body tucked carefully underneath him. You’re too far in to even notice the mess, your whines and whimpers dwindling down into soft breaths as he turns to his side, keeping you in his chest. His cock slowly softens in your walls, and even then, Draken’s keeps you glued to him as you both come down, tremors and pants still coming over both of you.

“Sweetheart.” He murmurs, face nuzzling up against your temple. When he gets a whine in return he holds you closer, careful to ease your face away from his chest so he can cover your tear-streaked face in kisses. “You’re okay, my baby…”

Draken is usually more responsible than this. Then to let you two doze off without a proper clean-up. But feeling your soft heartbeat against his, your fingers still lost in his hair, your lips pressed right up into the crook of his neck and puffing soft air, he just couldn't bring himself to let go. He didn’t want to let go now, or ever. Keeping you here, wrapped in his embrace, he was certain that you’d be there tomorrow morning too, with that beautiful smile he had fallen stupidly, hopelessly, in love with.

Fuck it. He was taking on the little sister fucker title with pride.

“Kenny, your hand is sweaty.” You murmur, trying to hold back your laughter when he shoots you a glare, pulling his hand away from you and dramatically rubbing it along his jeans.

“Fine, just won’t hold your hand, brat” He grumbles, and that sets you over, wrapping your arms around him mid-walk to press small kisses along his collar bones.

Draken hadn’t felt this nervous ever, in his entire life (this was a lie, he’s just dramatic as ever). The two of you were only steps away from your place, the same place you and Takemichi lived in together. Everyone was there, the entire found family, and you two were now official…

He was getting flashbacks of the group chat, his friend's ruthless behaviour, the way Takemichi hadn’t talked to him for one whole week, and the sweet satisfaction Baji got when he got one free punch to his jaw for Takemichi’s sake.

“Maybe we can tell them next week, or over a call. Whattya think lil love,” Draken murmured, his face hiding in your hairline. Your sweet laughter sent that familiar warmth through his chest, and one good tug on his hand had him reluctantly walking back towards the house. “You’ll be fine.” You say with a smile, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “We’re gonna do it together.”

When you hopped up onto the front step, Draken’s eyes trailed down to the sweet dangling sound that was the anklet looped around your ankle. The gold one, with his initials, right where it belonged. The sight had him calming a little, brows furrowed in the way they usually did when he became focused. “Right, together.”

“Michi-nii!” You call out once the two of you enter the house, the sound of music and chatter already filling the front entrance. Draken holds your hand a little tighter as if he had been entering a place he’d never been before.

“Living room!” Takemichi calls out, surrounded by founding members of toman, each huddled around the kotatsu table that was covered in snacks, beers, and cards. Oddly enough the chatter died down as Takemichi was dealing out for another round, a laugh leaving his lips.

“You guys gonna take this round seriously–” It was Mikey’s elbow into his ribs that silenced him, a little puff escaping his lungs. He was about to complain when his eyes were brought to what everyone seemed to be staring at.

And that was you, beaming smile and all, with your hand held tightly by Draken’s, who couldn't seem to make eye contact with anyone.

“Hi Michi~ Hi everyone! What are ya–”

“Finally.” Mitsuya was the first to mutter, leaning back further into his spot on the couch. “Chifuyu, you owe me 20 bucks, told you they’d come out today.”

“No fair!” Chifuyu blurted out, grumbling when he reluctantly pulled bills from his pocket. Pah and Peh were the first to start laughing, clinking their beers together.”

“Wait, you knew? How?” Mikey questioned Mitsuya, who triumphantly took the money from Chifuyu with a laugh of his own. Kazutora was even starting to crack up, hiding his smirk behind his beer.

And despite all the commotion, Takemichi sat dumbfounded, eyes glued to yours and Draken’s intertwined hands. When he did finally speak, it only made the group that much rowdier.

“Well, what the fuck is this–”

“Time for another punch,” Baji said with that signature grin of his, basically hoping from his spot on the couch.

“Wait wait!” You said, your pout only stirring the pot further. “No one is punching anyone! We’re–”

“We are dating,” Draken said, eyes a bit narrowed as he spoke. “We’re dating, Takemichi, I wanna date your sister, and I’m gonna.”

There was another round of silence in the room, but it didn’t last, not when Pah mumbled under his breath.

“Classic sister fucker–”

“Well, you could have at least asked first?!” Takemichi was dramatic as ever, tears swelling up in his eyes at the thought of his precious little sister being tarnished by the big, mean, scary man that was Draken. He let go of your hand then, being just as dramatic as Takemichi if not more so “I did ask, I just asked in front of everyone.”

“But you’re already dating, have been a while no…?” Classic Mitsuya, stirring the pot and making everyone act up yet again.

“Now why would you say that you ass–”

“C’mon Michi, I’ll punch him again for you, one good punch like last time–” Baji was punching at the air for emphasis.

“Sister fucker behaviour,” Peh said with a shake of his head, only making Pah laugh harder.

And amidst the bickering and nonsense that always seemed to break out between the boys, you took a seat next to Mikey, taking the Taiyaki he had to offer you with a little huff. He noticed the anklet, observant as ever as you rolled your eyes when Takemichi actually started crying, something about you losing your innocence.

“He’ll treat you right.” You looked at Mikey, who spared you a small smile and a pat on the head. “Draken–”

“I know!” You responded happily, eyeing him as he held Baji back, the nerves he was feeling earlier long gone. You took a bite of the Taiyaki and giggled.

“I can’t wait to be with him, forever!”

property of kenslilove, do not copy, repost, translate, or move onto any other platform!!

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bloodyodyssey · 10 months ago

Text

(Repost) Comms still up with 8 slots, 3 for busts, 3 for half body, and 2 for full body! Each listing also allows for up to one extra character to be added on at half price!

***If you don't want to commission me that's also fine i'd apreciate just a regular kofi dono or just sharing this around bc my finances are low, I've been averaging on $20 a month and struggling to pay hospital bills from earlier this year. i will also be considering opening a google doc or some other order form to allow payments via cashapp if there's any interest. Anyways heres a general breakdown of the pricing system and my will's/wont's under the cut:

So how do I (you, the buyer) choose what I want?

SO when you open up the request form it should look something like this!

We're using the bust order as our example here. At its base price, $15, it is set for the black and white option. If this is what you would like, then you don't have to worry about the add ons at all and you go straight to submitting your request! Now, if you're choosing add ons, it'll look something like these:

The first would be an example of an order of a flat color bust + an extra character bust with flat coloring as well. The color option adds the extra $10 (to match the listed price on the poster for $25), and the extra character with flat coloring adds half of that $25 to the order (well a little less bc i knocked off the .50 cents) which is why it comes out to $37.

The second would be an example of a black and white bust order with an added black and white bust character. This just adds an extra $7 to the price totaling $22.

What will you (the artist, me Brutus) draw?

If you want me to draw your oc or fanart of your favorite character I GOT U!!!

I'm also comfortable drawing blood and gore though I'll have to keep it on the lighter side (I enjoy blood if it isnt obvious by my url though so depending on what you want we might be able to go a little further with that).

I can do characters with armor as well, however I will require a reference of some sort from you, the client, as I'm frankly not going to attempt armor off the dome. I won't design armor myself either.

Pinups (not full nsfw due to how much of a struggle it is to navigate different site policies) and other suggestive works are also a-ok! a tity does not bother me if that wasn't made clear by my commission card 👍🏽

What will you (the artist, me Brutus) NOT draw?

Im not comfortable trying to draw real people as of right now sorry! I'm just not really a caricature or realistic portrait artist but this may change in the future.

I also won't do furry/anthro just because that isn't my forte as I haven't practiced drawing animalistic characters. There r plenty of talented furry artists for you to choose from and I could talk to someone to guide you to a few .

(I CAN do more humanoid fantasy characters however. like mermaids, satyrs, etc)

More extreme gore and body horror is also off the table. (so like spilling guts stuff like that)

I may love mecha but as it is like armor and a bit more extreme, I'm not drawing it sorry. And also as stated above I'm not drawing armor regardless without a good reference.

Certain fandoms are a no-go for me due to my own comfort. A quick list would be: mogeko games, omori, south park, hetalia, attack on titan, mcyt, hazbin hotel/helluva boss. if you're not sure just ask!

I reserve the right to decline any comission request for any reason. Getting paid is nice but my comfort is nicer yknow.

And that should cover everything! If you still need to ask me anything, my messages are open. Thank you so much for reading and a little extra thank you if you decide to commission me ❤️

#artists on tumblr #black artist #black artists on tumblr #commissions open #im hoping ghis isnt too long i tried to keep it as brief as i could #but i still wanted to make sure i explained myself well #but if you still have any questions dont hesitate to ask!

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ghouldump · 8 months ago

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Girlll did you delete your last fic? Whyyyy I was about to read it😭😭

Your Best Nightmare | Lestat de Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ being away from your companion, as both of you take on stardom, can be frustrating, but it is very rewarding to see your maker for the first time in months.

(anon asked for bi!reader w/ crossdressing lestat and if possible some nsfw content)

girl, somebody messaged me and said it was weird and i was confused like you watched a show with vampires killing people like bffr, but ig i’ll repost bc somebody else asked too 😂

The crowd seemed more lively than ever, screaming the frightening lyrics, but paid them no mind. Humans, despite having dominion over nearly every species, were quite stupid. They all had things they liked, they idolized, and in many of their eyes, it didn't take much to seem trustworthy to them. A quick photo of you holding the cheek of a beautiful mortal, and overnight, you were a national treasure — proof that vampires were not a danger.

Vampires, although people of the night, were only bound by their circumstances, and if there were others, they deserved the privilege to reveal themselves. It was cute, really, the same songs that were once deemed monstrous, alarming, and cultish, were now innovative, you were now an icon, like your lover, the vampire Lestat, you were simply adding your contribution to rock culture. However, they didn't even realize, all of them were wrong. They couldn't be more wrong about everything.

I'm your best nightmare,” you sang, as the audience joined you.

And then it happened, you were in my arms

Your lips on my throat- your hands on my, on my...

Two bodies together, the intimate sin

The pain and the pleasure, could do mortals in

How could you know, what I'm thinking of

To me lust can be, as beautiful as love

Here tonight, your pure heart and soul

Untainted passion should have no control

She asked me if I...

I told her the truth

I said "I'm sorry, it takes me, longer than you"

She smiled and blushed, and continued to grind

And promised to make me, go out of my mind

Returning her promise, she, came to a halt

Licking my lips, I, tasted her salt

Then she sat up and gasped and clutched at her breast

I thought she was coming- I'd never have guessed that

As she grew pale, as white as a flower

She collapsed to the floor and was dead in an hour

Hearing the humans singing along to the deranged song, you nearly laughed. Too foolish to grasp the very lyrics, escaping their mouths. A song about your very first hunt, alone. Delilah, the name itself brought a nostalgic tingle to your tongue.

You remember the night utterly, from the time you stumbled out of your coffin, to you crawling back in. You sat alone at the bar, The Dungeon, a frequent spot for tourists when she caught your eye. Dancing against her friend, they both laughed loudly, singing along to the music. Her skin was flawless, her makeup dark, with an incredibly flattering dress, hugging her curves beautifuly.

Just from staring alone, you almost held your throat from how thirsty you were. Standing up, you approached her, her friend nudging her, their eyes shifting to you.

"Hey," she smiled, briefly biting her lip.

"Hey," you repeated, peering into her thoughts, not a single piece was left unattainable from your view.

"Are you here alone?" she asked you, her friend whispering that she was going back to their group of friends, to give her privacy.

"I'm afraid I am," you smiled, as she moved closer, tilting her head.

"Then I'll have to keep you company"

"I'm very difficult to entertain"

"That's because you haven't met me," she giggled.

"Ah, I see, and what is the name of the woman I've waited for?" you asked her.

"Delilah"

"Very beautiful-

"Please, I was named after my grandmother," she said, smiling as you chuckled.

"I'm Y/n," you said, holding out your hand, shaking hers.

"Would you like to get out of here? Maybe have some fun at my place?" you asked, leaning closer, to glamour her.

"Yes, I'd love to," she smiled.

"Good girl, why don't you tell your friends that you're headed back to your hotel for tonight, because you're tired, and I'll meet you outside," you winked, watching as she went to the group of friends.

It wasn't much longer before you were both nude, her moans only continued to arouse your longing appetite. Her gentle kisses, and promises to rock your world, as her orgasm drew near — it only made you want to rip her to pieces more. Holding her soft hips, you felt your fangs emerging before you began to suck from her breast. She panicked for only a moment, choosing to follow along with your erotic behavior.

"I'm coming," she cried, grinding against your thigh. Her breathing hitched, feeling your cool fingers near her glistening pearl.

"You taste just as good as you look," you whispered, staring down, as you hovered over her.

"Your turn," she giggled, her eyes still shut. If only she had opened her lovely raven eyes, to see the monster in front of her. Blood dripping from your mouth, as you stared at her, seeing her for nothing more than she could ever be to you, food.

"Unfortunately, you won't get the honor, tonight, as your life is coming to an end," you said, and just as she was able to open her eyes, you lunged forward.

Draining her, you could sense her heartbeat, hear her thoughts, and feel the sensation of her nails clawing into your back. It was all euphoric, you were a monster, you could admit, and you loved every bit of the thrill, of experiencing such an occasion, with stunning humans.

As the final song came to an end, you waved, bowing at the arena of people, the music fading, as the stage lowered, giving the illusion that you were disappearing. Going backstage, you thanked your team for working so hard for the tour, before you changed clothing — and headed to your hotel. You intended to catch your flight tonight, but with the concert ending so late, you couldn't take the risk, as the sun was bound to rise in the next hour or two.

Although you felt impatient, you would have to wait another night, before you could catch the private jet to New Orleans, to him. Lestat de Lioncourt, your muse, maker, lover, and companion. He turned you nearly 40 years ago and you have been inseparable ever since.

With the both of you busy with your careers, the two of you promised that it would be fine to have flings on the side, as long as there were no feelings attached — not that you would be able to feel anything for another anyway. You had yet to meet another as passionate, as he.

As the driver stopped the car, you quickly made your way into the building, as the sunrise began to peak from behind the buildings.

"Good morning, miss Y/n," the receptionist smiled, batting her eyelashes as you looked her way.

"Morning," you winked, before entering the elevator.

Going to your floor, you stopped for a moment, seeing Amanda, your assistant, standing at the door, it only meant one thing, groupies. Your team sometimes selected women and men, bringing them to your room. Your publicists emphasized how important it was for you to not be seen hunting, and you were simply playing your role.

"Thank you, Amanda, why don't you go get some rest?" you spoke, grinning as she jumped, glancing over at you.

"Yes, of course, sleep well," she nodded, practically running to the elevator.

Opening the door, you squinted, trying to allow your eyes to adjust to the dim room. The blackout curtains blocking any potential sunshine. Hearing the sound of the faucet running in the bathroom, you entered and shut the door. Taking note that you couldn't hear any thoughts, you looked around for a handbag or wallet, to identify the person, just as the bathroom door opened.

Gasping, you couldn't contain the large smile, as Lestat exited the bathroom, he wore a black bralette, cheeky knickers, and a silk robe on top. His blond waves looked even more luscious than usual, with a light pink gloss on his lips and blush.

"You came to California, to see me," you said, trying to swallow the emotions bubbling inside. You felt so elated, seeing him for the first time in months.

"I couldn't go another day away from you, chéri," he confessed, as you moved closer, embracing him. Mumbling a low, "baby", while he held you near, placing a kiss on your lips.

"You look so pretty," you giggled, as he pecked your lips again.

"I had to look my best to get your attention, I've seen the woman that come to your shows," he smirked.

"They don't stand a chance, next to you," you said, as he stared longingly into your eyes.

"I missed you," he finally said.

"I missed you too," you said, as those words were all he needed to hear before his lips were connected to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

Biting down on your lip, he groaned, lifting you in the air, walking over to the bed, before breaking the kiss — as you peeled each article of clothing away, your eyes set on his piercing blue ones.

"This is so cute," your eyes twinkle, as he removed the robe, the obvious bulge in his panties catching your attention. Sitting on the bed, in front of him, he went to his knees. Kissing your lips, he moved down your neck, holding your waist, as you arched your back. "Love," you moaned, feeling his breath against your skin, causing goosebumps.

Laying back, you bit your lip, as his mouth traveled south. Kissing your glistening pearl, before hungrily consuming her. Your fingers found their way to his blonde tresses. Your eyes could hardly stay open, as his tongue repeatedly lapped over your cunt.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you moaned loudly, "I'm so close," you said, the orgasm escaping, as his long fingers moved up to your breast - caressing them.

"I wasn't sure how much longer I could take, being away from you," he spoke, as you agreed, pulling him close to kiss his lips, smearing the lip gloss on his pale skin.

"Take this off, please," You tugged on the bralette, you needed every part of him, bare.

As he stood, you grinned, exploring his toned body. He kept his usual sultry eye contact, as he slowly removed the lingerie, purposely teasing you.

"Lestat," you whined, giggling.

"Patience is a virtue, ma chéri," he smirked, as he approached you, bound to another night of sharing his endless love with you.

"Fuck Patience, I need you now," you groaned, making him laugh.

"Anything for you"

in the original post, i explained that all of the upcoming posts won't be released in a particular order, since i’m working on everything in my drafts.

#amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #iwtv #lestat de lioncourt x reader #lestat x reader #lestat de lioncourt

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de4dlyniightshade · 1 year ago

Text

꩜ QUEEN OF HEARTS

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: +18, mdni

꩜ WORD COUNT: 3.8k

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, public sex, sub!virgin!spencer, cumming in pants, thigh riding(ish), fingering, praise, a little exhibitionism, getting caught(kinda).

꩜ PROMPT: sneaky fooling around with sub spence on the job

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

A/N: i have mixed feelings about this but i'm posting it anyway bcs i feel like it. also this is proofread but i'm a moron and blind so don't get your hopes up:3

Spencer was, gently put, dumb. Now, obviously, he was intelligent, very, very intelligent, but you can be both in rare instances, and Spencer was a rare instance.

He was completely unaware and blind to his looks, which was obviously due to his childhood of being relentlessly bullied and tormented, causing him to overlook his appearance and how truly attractive he was, no matter how many people told him, flirted with him, or hit on him. I mean his nickname was literally "pretty boy" for a reason, but he just thought it was a sarcastic joke.

"All alone, handsome?" You smiled, noticing Spencer tucked away in a conference room all on his own, surrounded by files, your voice making him look up from the one he was reading.

"Oh uhm, yeah, it just got a little loud out there; I work better in a quiet place," he explained, a tight-lipped smile on his face before he looked back down at the file, furrowing his brows as he scanned it.

"Everything okay?" You asked at his expression, worried that he was struggling and needed a break, which he was terrible at, always overworking himself for the sake of the case, even though he could barely think straight after working himself to the bone for days.

"Yeah, I just- I can't find any connection." He sighed, dropping the file on the table before leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair.

"Need some fresh eyes?" you offered, closing the door behind you to help drown out the loud chattering in the police station you were working in, slowly making your way over to him and hoisting yourself onto the desk beside him, not missing the way he swallowed, his eyes flicking down to your thighs before looking away again.

"Y-Yeah, sure," he murmured, sliding the file over to you before dropping his hands to his lap to fidget with his fingers, picking at the sides of his nails nervously.

"Spence, stop," you warned, looking at him with knowing eyes. It was a bad habit you'd noticed he had, sometimes picking his skin so much that it was red and raw and sometimes bleeding. You'd told him many times to stop before he hurt himself, but it never really worked.

"Sorry…" he mumbled, flattening his hands on his thighs before looking away from you again, scanning the room to distract himself. Your eyes landed on his hands, noticing a familiar red substance at the side of his nail, making you let out a sigh.

"Spencer, you're bleeding; gimme your hand," you sighed, placing the file down beside you and holding your hand out to him, watching his eyes flick between your face and your hand a few times.

"The amount of pathogens passed through holding hands is staggering; it's actually safer to kiss." He stated, it was completely innocent, but the way your stomach churned wasn't. You'd had a thing for Spencer for a long time, but he was just so naive that he couldn't see it; today he'd see it.

"Is that an offer?" You teased, quirking your brow at him as his eyes widened, realising what he had said and who he said it to—a very attractive woman who was sitting right in front of him in a small, hidden room with the door closed and the blinds drawn, his cheeks flushing at the implication.

"N-No, I was just- I- " He stuttered, averting your gaze and swallowing thickly as you smiled at his flustered state, watching as he lifted his hand, placing it in yours in an attempt to make the whole conversation stop.

"Oh Spencer, does that not hurt?" You tutted, furrowing your brows at him at the raw, bleeding skin on his finger, your thumb stroking the back of his hand, absentmindedly.

"A little..." he spoke softly, lowering his head slightly as you sighed.

"Hold on, just a second," you said as you got up from the table, making your way to the door where you'd left your bag, unzipping it and digging through it for a moment, perhaps bending over to show a little bit of your butt from under your skirt on purpose before you finally pulled a bandaid from one of the pockets and made your way back to him.

"Good thing I'm prepared, huh?" You smiled, sitting back on the desk, but closer this time, with Spencer immediately holding his hand out to you for you to take gently, opening the bandaid and carefully wrapping it around his finger, forcing yourself to hold back a smile as you raised his hand to your face, placing a gentle kiss on top of the bandaid, leaving a faint lipstick stain on the tan material.

"Better?" you asked sweetly, holding back a smirk at his pink cheeks, the blush spreading to the tips of his ears, and you just couldn't help yourself. "Oh Spencer, are you feeling okay? Your cheeks are really red," you feigned concern as you reached out to press the back of your hand to his cheek, feeling the heat radiating from his face.

"Y-Yeah, fine," he said, his voice cracking as he tried to sound sure of himself and failing as his cheeks became redder at your touch.

"Are you sure, honey?" You asked sweetly, slipping in the petname just to see him gulp and avoid your eyes, wetting his lips nervously as he shifted in his seat.

Spencer couldn't even answer you, completely avoiding looking even close to you as you shifted closer to him, your eyes boring into him as you saw a very faint sheen of sweat lining his temple.

"Am I making you nervous?" You asked in a low tone, quirking your brow at him as you saw his eyes widen a little at your question, his lips parting as he let out a shaky breath, gulping down his nerves as he looked up at you shyly.

"M-Maybe a little," he admitted bashfully, looking away from you again, staring down at his shoes as you felt lust stirring in your stomach at the sight of him so nervous, admitting that you had an effect on him.

"Y'know, when I tell you that you're pretty, I mean it, don't you?" You asked him, looking at him with doe eyes as he looked back at you with a similar expression.

"Y-You do?" He sounded genuinely surprised, as if he didn't believe you.

"Of course I do. I mean not to sound like I'm in love with you or anything, but you're beautiful, Spencer, and I mean that." You spoke softly, standing up to shift closer to him, standing between his legs and leaning on the desk in front of him, forcing him to look up at you as you towered over him.

"T-Thank you," he breathed shyly, moving his hands to rest between his thighs and covering his crotch with his forearms as he looked anywhere but your face.

"Move your hands," you ordered suddenly, Spencer finally looking at you, brows pulled together slightly at your sudden change in behaviour.

"W-What?" He stuttered, gulping as he shifted in his seat, his hands still planted between his parted thighs, licking his lips as you heard the faint sound of his breathing picking up.

"I said, move your hands," you repeated, this time more sternly, pulling your lip between your teeth as you watched his hands twitch, taking a shaky breath before he hesitantly moved his hands to rest on his thighs, dropping his head in slight humiliation that he'd been caught.

"Oh my, I make you more than nervous," you stated in a sultry tone, Spencer letting out a breathy whine just loud enough for you to hear. The sound was all you needed to have you standing up abruptly, moving to place your knee between his thighs, your hands lifting to rest on either side of his neck.

"Can I kiss you, pretty boy?" You asked breathily, your thumb stroking over his pulse, feeling his breath hitch in his throat at your question before he gulped, nodding quickly.

"Use your words," you teased, watching as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, visibly nervous under your gaze.

"P-Please," he spoke under his breath, looking up at you with wide doe eyes as you smiled down at him, wordlessly leaning towards him, stopping just shy of his lips for a moment just to feel him lean towards you slightly to chase your lips before you finally closed the gap, feeling a whine vibrate against your lips.

Spencer's kissing was slightly clumsy and clearly inexperienced, desperately trying to keep up with you as you kissed him with fervour, letting your teeth graze his bottom lip, your hands trailing up from his neck into his hair at the nape of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp as he keened into you, his hips rolling upward, the motion piquing your curiosity, shifting your knee forward to press to his crotch, a moan slipping into your mouth as he bucked his hips again.

"That feel good, handsome?" You pulled away just enough to ask him, your lips brushing his and his hot breath fanning your lips as he panted, his eyes still closed.

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, making you smirk as you pressed your knee harder into his clothed cock, a whimper falling from his swollen lips as he rutted his cock into you, moving his hands to hold your thigh, squeezing your flesh in an attempt to compose himself, pushing himself down to the chair to still his movements.

"Keep going," you husked as you moved to press your lips to his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses over his pulse, the feeling making him moan as he couldn't help but rut against you, his cheeks flushed at what he was doing.

"W-what if someone-" he stuttered, cutting himself off with a whine as you grazed your teeth on his skin, licking over smooth skin.

"What if?" you said teasingly, your voice low and sultry as you lowered one hand to hold his that was still on your thigh, slowly moving it up and under your skirt. "Touch me," you breathed into his ear, a moan falling from his lips before he gulped, inching his hand higher and higher until he could cup your clothed core, gasping at the heat that radiated from you.

"W-What do I do?" He asked meekly, embarrassed that he didn't know how to touch you properly and that his inexperience only made you want him more.

"Well, first, my underwear need to be out of the picture." You laughed breathily, Spencer blushing and letting out a shaky breath as he used his fingers to move your damp underwear to the side, the fact that he didn't even remove them making you clench around nothing.

"Now touch me." You breathed, biting down on your bottom lip, watching as he gulped before ever so gently pressing his fingertips to your cunt, his middle finger slipping between your folds, resting at your slick entrance, his eyes widening at the feeling, his mouth dropping open slightly.

"Y-You're so...wet," he practically whimpered, not even realising how attractive what he said was, his words making you moan quietly, "inside baby," you breathed, taking his wrist into your hand to guide him, holding his hand where he needed to be before he slowly pushed his middle finger upward, his fingertip slipping into you and making his jaw fall slack as your walls surround his finger.

"God, you've got the perfect fingers for this, baby," you practically moaned, letting your head tip back as you still held his wrist.

"I do?" he asked, his voice slightly whiny as he gazed up at you.

"Mhm, fit so nicely inside me," you murmured absentmindedly, completely forgetting that this wasn't some raunchy dream you were having, your words making him moan low in his throat.

"Curl your finger towards you for me, love," you instructed softly. Spencer immediately followed your exact instructions, curling his middle finger gradually until you let out a quiet gasp, stopping his movements completely.

"D-Did I hurt you?" He asked worriedly, his behaviour and concern making your heart swell.

"N-No baby, no, felt good, k-keep going," you breathed, stroking your thumb over his wrist as you moved the other to rest on his shoulder, balancing yourself so you could move your leg to the outer side of his thigh, spreading your legs for him so he had more access.

"You can add another, baby," you encouraged softly, knowing that he wouldn't do it on his own out of fear of hurting you in any way.

"O-Okay," he breathed, swallowing nervously as he pulled his finger out almost fully, leaving just his fingertip in before he pressed his index finger in beside it, slowly pushing them both in at once, watching your face intently as your jaw fell slack, eyes closed as a breathy moan slipped past your parted lips.

"F-fuck, baby," you mewled as Spencer curled his slender fingers into you on his own accord, his hips rolling into your thigh at the sound of your voice and the feeling of you clenching around his fingers.

"G-Gimme your hand," you asked, holding yours out to him as he placed his free hand in yours with a slightly confused expression that quickly became a completely infatuated, lust-filled expression as you let go of his wrist to hike your skirt up around your waist, exposing the sight of his fingers buried in your cunt.

"O-oh my-" Spencer tried to speak, his words turning into a whimper as you bucked your hips slightly, his fingers pushing in deeper, the sight of them disappearing into you making his cock throb against your leg, hips stuttering against his will.

"J-Just stay right there and make this motion," you explained breathlessly, placing Spencer's thumb on your neglected clit and motioning circles with yours to show him what to do, watching him nod shakily before he made one tentative circle, watching how you reacted, the gasp you let out showing him that it was good, so he repeated the motion again and again until he had a pace going.

"Oh, Spence, g-good baby, so good, c-curl your fingers at the same time for me," you breathed, Spencer immediately doing as you asked, curling both his fingers into you until they were pressed to that soft spot inside you. The way you moaned when he reached it made him realise that spot was what made you react, so he experimented a little, uncurling his fingers before repeating the motion, a louder but still hushed sound falling from your lips as he did.

"Such a quick learner," you mewled as he continued his steady motions, his thumb circling your clit in time with his fingers. Your praise made him blush and rut into your thigh harder than he had before, and your curiosity piqued.

"You like when I praise you? tell you how good you are?" you asked, the way Spencer whimpered and fucked into your thigh again giving you your answer, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"Be a good boy and go faster for me," you instructed, your words of praise making him completely pliant, instantly picking up his pace and making you almost double over as the pleasure shot through you, the motion making your leg slot right between his thighs, leaving no distance between your thigh as his painfully hard length straining against his pants, a pathetic whimper ripped from his throat as his hips bucked desperately into you, this time at a constant pace, Spencer unable to hold back from chasing any kind of friction.

"So pretty fucking my thigh, baby, you like humping my leg like a good boy?" You cooed, bringing your hand to his jaw and letting your thumb stroke over his plush bottom lip, watching as he let his mouth open, as if inviting you in, and you just couldn't deny, letting your thumb slip past his lips and into his warm mouth, clenching around his fingers as he wrapped his beautiful lips around it.

"Oh my, such a good boy," you praised, your voice breathy and low as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you, the way Spencer's fingers consistently curled into you, his thumb never faltering on your clitoral area, his pace matching that of his hips constantly fucking your thigh, his brain going into autopilot as he sucked on your thumb.

"I-I feel- weird," Spencer whimpered around your thumb, just barely audible, but you heard him, his words making you want to coo at him, knowing exactly what the feeling was.

"You're gonna cum, baby boy; it's okay; gonna feel good; just let it happen." You spoke soothingly, pulling your thumb from his mouth and watching as he opened his eyes to look up at you with a doe-like expression, his lips parted and wet as he let out a constant stream of whimpers and moans, his hips stuttering as he desperately fucked your thigh, chasing his orgasm as he brought you to yours.

"F-fuck baby, you're gonna make me cum; keep going; just a little more for mommy." The word slipped out without a thought. You were so caught up in the moment that you didn't even think about it until Spencer let out a choked moan, delivering a particularly hard thrust onto your thigh, your jaw falling slack at what slipped past his lips.

"M-mommy, 'm gonna c-cum," he choked out, letting out little gasps and whimpers as tears spilled from his eyes. He looked utterly gorgeous, completely fucked out, and cumdrunk, so much so that he was calling you mommy and humping your thigh, the whole thing pushing you so close to the edge.

"Oh, baby, so fucking pretty. Gonna cum, you want that? You want mommy to cum on your pretty fingers?" You husked, watching as Spencer nodded mindlessly, clearly not even knowing what he was agreeing to.

"Oh, o-oh, m-mommy! mommy, I can't, I'm-" Spencer stammered, cutting himself off with a choked sob as his hips stilled, cum spurting into his underwear as his whole body tensed, including his hands, his fingers curling into you as far as they'd go, harshly pressing to your sweet spot as his thumb pressed into your clit, the sudden pressure sending you over the edge with a muffled moan, gushing around his fingers as your walls spasmed and thighs trembled.

Spencer continued to shallowly fuck your thigh through his orgasm, little whimpers and whines falling from his lips as he completely soiled his pants, cum seeping through to your thigh and the warm, sticky liquid smearing on your skin.

"Oh, baby, you made such a mess of yourself," you cooed, pouting down at him as you cupped his cheeks, his eyes looking up at you completely dazed as he whimpered.

"You did so well for mommy," you said softly, stroking his soft skin with your thumbs as he pouted, completely fucked out and submissive.

"Okay, baby, slow for me; you can take your fingers out now and we'll get you cleaned up, okay?" You encouraged him sweetly, Spencer nodding as he slowly, like you'd instructed, pulled his fingers out of you, the feeling of his skin dragging against your sensitive walls making you wince slightly.

Once Spencer slipped his fingers fully out of you, he couldn't help but fixate on the slick, shiny liquid that coated them, watching as it created strings between them when he spread them apart, and he just couldn't resist. Your jaw dropped as you watched him bring his soaked fingers to his lips, burying them in his mouth and moaning around them as he tasted you.

"You like how mommy tastes, baby?" You asked, smiling to yourself as you watched him clean every last drop, nodding with his fingers still in his mouth.

"Sticky," he whined once he pulled his fingers from his mouth, shifting in his seat awkwardly. "...and cold," he whined harder, looking up at you with big eyes as if begging you to do something.

"Okay, baby, let's clean you up," you smiled, fixing your soiled underwear and shimmying your skirt back down before planting your foot back on the ground and scanning the room.

"There's no tissues in here," you sighed, furrowing your brows as Spencer whined harder, pressing his thighs together desperately.

"D-Don't like it, mommy," he sniffled, making you turn quickly to see him with teary eyes and pouty lips. He was completely submissive, which was a problem you'd deal with later; right now he needed you.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay; don't cry," you soothed as you cupped his cheeks, watching as his bottom lip quivered slightly. "Mommy's going to think of something," you reassured him, taking another look around the room. An idea springs to mind, and he's not going to like it.

"Okay, you're not going to like it, but it's the only way, okay?" You told him, making sure to talk softly to him so as not to make him think you were being mean. Spencer was sensitive as is, but in this state? He needed the most care.

"O-Okay," he replied hesitantly, curious about what he wouldn't like but also slightly worried.

You let go of his face to turn around and reach over the desk, picking up Spencer's, now stone cold, coffee cup and turning back to him, seeing the dots connect in his mind at what you were planning, the whole idea making him whine but nodding nonetheless, knowing it was the only cover-up that wasn't going to be too suspicious.

"I'm going to spill this on you, and then we're going to go out there; I'll tell them I knocked it over and I feel terrible, and then we're going to go back to the hotel and get you changed, okay?" You explained your plan fully, making sure he was comfortable with the whole thing.

"Okay…" he mumbled, knowing that this was about to be unpleasant and impossibly stickier, but on the upside, the hotel wasn't far, and he got to spend some time alone with you away from work, so it was worth it in the end.

"Sorry, sweetie," you winced as you poured the liquid over his lap, watching as he jumped at the cold feeling seeping into his clothes, feeling terrible about making him uncomfortable.

"Alright, let's go. I don't want you sitting in wet clothes for too long," you said as you quickly placed the cup back on the desk, taking a Spencer hand in yours to help him to his feet and leading him to the door where your bag was, hoisting it onto your shoulder and swinging the door open. Your eyes immediately meeting hotch looking at you from a desk not far from you.

"I spilled Spencer's coffee on him; thank God it was cold, but I feel terrible. I'm gonna give him a ride to the hotel to change; we won't be long," you explained quickly, all but dragging Spencer through the station to the exit, not giving the team time to tease or make jokes.

"How dumb do they think we are?" Derek snorted to the team once you were out of earshot, the others shaking their head and agreeing with him as they continued their work.

@cancersunthatsit @mindfullycriminal @reidsdaisies @iluvreid @teachugger69 @queermaxwooo @olives-and-sunshine @ac0511 @unimportantweirdo @criminalmindswife @deluluforu @busybeingstrange

(if you wanna be tagged when i post fics just lmk!)

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