#i gave it a positive meaning because we need more of it

[gguk-n]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (LANDO NORRIS X Y/N)

I did a poll yesterday and I had asked which driver I should write an smau with us Sabrina Carpenter's Please please please. Lando won, so here is the smau. I hope you guys enjoy it more than I enjoyed making it!! (I used Sabrina Carpenter mostly, except a few places where I got the pictures from pinterest)

Y/N.Y/L/N

Tagged Y/BFF/user and McLaren

Liked by McLaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 4,657,982 others Y/N.Y/L/N So Y/BFF/user loves watching cars go fast, I on the contrary had my heart stop when I found out the speed they drove at. Thank you to McLaren for having us. It was the nicest experience, let's do this again some time. The drivers were so much fun, especially oscarpiastri, same sense of humour as Y/BFF/N.

user 1 I knew loving y/n was a queen move, she's so pretty. user 2 the crossover I didn't know I needed😭😭 user 3 I was at the race and when I said I was a fan she gave me and the others an autograph and we even took pictures!! the sweetest!!❤️❤️ user 4 I was also at the race and I saw her and Lando literally throwing themselves at each other and laughing at god knows what. user 5 user4 me too, I saw them whispering to each other and I think I saw them exchange numbers👀 user 6 both of them follow each other now, idk what that means?? are we getting a new dad?!🤔

Y/N was greeted by McLaren staff at the entrance and given paddock passes to enter. Y/BFF/N was looking around with big round eyes and almost screamed when she saw Lando and Oscar. They shook hands and went along with the engineers on a tour of the paddock. Y/N didn't understand most of it but she was happy for Y/BFF/N. Lando seemed to have noticed that Y/N was zoned out, so he tapped her shoulder, "You don't have to listen if you don't want to." Y/N apologised and tried to pay attention, alas Lando had other plans and decided to end her misery. He took her along to the drivers room, let her sit down and even got her an iced americano, her favourite!! Y/N thanked him with the conversation flowing like butter with the sprinkling of some flirting here and there. As Lando finished P3, he made sure to get Y/N number before she left for the night; a triumphant look on Lando's face.

f1updates

Liked by 34,765 others f1updates Y/N Y/L/N was in attendance at today’s race at McLaren. P (Max's girlfriend's daughter) was seen taking picture with her. She wasn't the only one happy it seems because a certain driver couldn't get done with press and debrief without blushing every time he looked at her. He even ran back after the race to her in what every is describing as a race to get her number before she leaves. We hope to see more of Y/N now that she might become a wag.

user 7 can celebrities who don't care about the sport not come. 😒😒 user 8 this page is supposed to update about the race not the racers lives🙄🙄 user 9 I think they look cute together, I haven't seen Lando blush like this ever🥰🥰

landonorris followed Y/N.Y/L/N

Y/N.Y/L/N followed landonorris

Y/N.Y/L/N

Liked by landonorris and 3,657,987 other Y/N.Y/L/N So happy to bring you the collection with Skims I've been working on since last year. You know how much of a big advocate I am of body positivity and control. I hope this collection brings joy to all the people who wear it, I hope you feel just as sexy as I did while doing the photoshoot

user 7 not Lando lurking in the likes user 8 user 7 he's not lurking, he follows her lol. user 9 she betrayed taylorswift for money🤦‍♀️. user 10 mother is mothering user 11 Y/N.Y/L/N can you adopt me?? I wanna be hot like you when I grow up Y/N.Y/L/N user 11 sure but you're already hot, I can see from the pfp💋💋. user 11 Y/N.Y/L/N didn't just reply to me, i can die happy

landonorris

liked by Y/N.Y/L/N, McLaren, oscarpiastri and 1,456,278 other landonorris might not have finished podium but you guys get cute pictures of me

user 10 marry me Norris!!!❤️❤️💋💋 user 11 he's so cute and drivers fast cars, what a package.🥹🥹. user 12 its ok mate, better luck next time👍 user 1 not only did Lando like y/n post, y/n liked his back too😭😭

y/nupdates

Liked by 15,798 others. y/nupdates Y/N was seen a few days back with a mystery man on the streets of London. Both of them looked very comfortable holding hands or kissing each other any chance they got. Is there romance in the air or is this another one of y/n flings? only time will tell.

user 2 guys, its Lando Norris, Mclaren's driver😳 user 3 I can confrim its Lando, I saw them near big ben user 4 she hasn't released any new music in ages, focus on your work😫😫 user 5 user 4 let her have fun, you mood killer🤬

f1wagsupdates

liked by 3,490 others f1wagsupdates Lando Norris was seen getting up close and comfortable with a new girl on the beaches of Hawaii. Is a new grid couple on the rise??

user 6 you did not just call y/n a new girl?? 🤦‍♀️😤 user 7 i think they are so cute!! I want what they have😩😭 user 8 Lando needs to focus on the race now that Mclaren is doing so good😤😤

popnews

liked by Y/BFF/user and others popnews Y/N Y/L/N, singer and Lando Norris, McLaren's F1 driver were seen walking around the streets of Paris. This seems to be the third city the pair has been spotted being in love. Speculations say that they started dating after Y/N went to the race in March. Only time will tell what is going on between the two since they've kept their personal lives private since neither have been seen attending a race or a concert. We've tried contacting both their PR team but have gotten no response.

user 9 y/n best friend liked this, must be true🤯!! user 10 both of them are so cute together!! can't wait for all the love songs y/n will write😭😭 user 11 i hate it when bitches get with hot guys😡 user 12 you can tell they both are in love. can't believe popnews reported, must be real😔

babygirlcore

Liked by lando.jpg, Y/BFF/user and others. babygirlcore that's why they say you should date an athlete, they got good stamina lando.jpg damn, i feel objectified babygirlcore I'm only with you for the looks, sorry you had to find out like this Y/BFF/N can't believe my bestie is dating my fav driver and I find out from the tabloid babygirlcore I'm sorry Y/BFF/N I would've told you but Lando wouldn't let me. lando.jpg don't drag me in this I'm innocent

Y/N.Y/L/N

Liked by landonorris,maxverstappen1 and 1,452,647 others. Y/N.Y/L/N It was so much fun performing at coachella. Thank you for having me. I've been touring for the past year, but this never gets old. I hope I get to see you guys at my concerts, tickets available in the bio.

user 1 seeing her live was a dream come true😭 user 2 the only reason I went to coachella❤️❤️ user 3 is it just me or was she winking and giggling at someone in the crowd??🤔🤔 user 4 user3 I saw it too, it's prolly Lando🥲🥲 user 5 user4 it was definitely Lando someone posted pictures of them after the coachella user 6 can't believe this witch took my Lando😤😤

landonorris

Liked by Y/N.Y/L/N, McLaren, f1 and 5,278,934 others. landonorris that first win feeling!! So thankful to McLaren for always believing in me!!

user 7 the most deserved win😭😭😭!! user 8 not Lando running to y/n as soon as he won😍😭😭!! user 9 so rude, y/n won't even comment congratulating her boyfriend😷😷 carlossainz55 congratulations cabron oscarpiastri congratulations mate

babygirlcore

liked by lando.jpg and others babygirlcore the winner of Miami gp and my heart!! give it up for Lando Norris!! so proud of you baby, I knew you could do it!! can't wait to share more wins and watch you become the WDC!!

lando.jpg you're making me blush, love you baby!! Y/BFF/user can't believe I missed this historic moment Congratulations Lando!! Gonna have to take the year off so I can process these emotions😭😱🤯 lando.jpg thank you Y/BFF/N

Y/N.Y/L/N

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 3,765,983 others. Y/N.Y/L/N I've been working at the studio for a while now, can't wait for you guys to hear the new stuff I've coming for you. It's been so long since a new album. So, I'm happy to announce the release of my new album in a couple months. Can't wait to share it with the best people in my life!!

link in the bio

user 7 let her cook😭🥹 user 8 can't believe Lando is her muse, the song is so Lando coded🥹🥹 user 9 oh to be y/n and dating Lando, she hit the jack pot😔😔 user 10 I'm so happy she's finally getting the love she deserves❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭. user 11 can they just come out and say that they are dating😖😖. user 12 i'm working late cuz I'm a singer, the line of the century, play this at my funeral💀 Y/BFF/user is this song about me babygirl Y/N.Y/L/N Y/BFF/ user always, you're my soulmate❤️❤️🥰🥰😘😘

Lando couldn't help but gloat to his friends and fellow drivers. How many people can say that their girlfriend wrote a song about them. The song made him soft and mushy so when Y/N walked through the door he tackled her into a hug. "you wrote a song about me" Lando whispered in her ear. "I did" y/n replied, "all my songs are about you darling" Lando's neck felt hot and his cheeks started to hurt from smiling to hard. Y/N looked at his face and smirked, "aww!! is little norris blushing??" Lando quickly moved away and turn his head towards the window. Y/N couldn't help but tease him and call him a sap in love. Honestly the biggest sap was Y/N since she was the one writing songs about her boyfriend.

Y/N.Y/L/N

Tagged landonorris

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 2,769,654 others Y/N.Y/L/N Heart break is one thing, my ego's another.

link in the bio

user 1 mom said dad's not allowed to look anywhere else.😈😈🙈🙈. user 2 what a power move y/n casting her boyfriend in the song about not fucking up the relationship😂😂. user 3 if that stupid vroom vroom guy fucks up, it's on sight😤😤 user 4 i don't get the hype, she aint even that pretty😒. user 6 i hope they break up, Lando is meant to end up with me 🤦‍♀️ landonorris Thanks for having me on the music video, if you need help in the future lemme know😏😉 Liked by the author user 5 Lando trying to be low key in the comments when we know he's being loved by the best girl Y/BFF/user I'm sending this to my boyfriend Y/N.Y/L/N Y/BFF/user I thought I was your boyfriend, am I the other one???? Y/BFF/user Y/N.Y/L/N sorry babygirl, it do be like that sometimes

landonorris

Tagged Y/N.Y/L/N

Liked by Y/N.Y/L/N, maxverstappen1 and 1,256,783 others. landonorris I'm not as good with words as she is. I never knew what love felt like before she walked into my life. So grateful to be the boyfriend of the most beautiful, kind, caring, loving and gorgeous girl. You're my forever person. I love you Y/N Y/L/N❤️❤️

user 1 if someone saw this. they'd think this was a y/n fan acc. user 2 y/n is barbie and Lando is just ken and he's happy if barbie is😫😫. user 3 eww, she ugly, Lando could do so much better. carlossainz55 congratulations cabron!! happy for you charles_leclerc Alex want's to know if we can get tickets to her concert?? Y/N.Y/L/N charles_leclerc yessss!! tell Alex she can come to all my concerts oscarpiastri you would've thought he would shut up after getting with her but he has become insufferable. Y/N.Y/L/N take him away. He cries whenever you're not around. Liked by Y/N.Y/L/N Y/N.Y/L/N I love you too baby boy. You're my forever person too!! landonorris I'm so lucky to have you, love you mommy😘😘.

Y/N.Y/L/N

Tagged landonorris

Liked by landonorris, Y/BFF/user and 1,426,783 others Y/N.Y/L/N People keep asking why are all my songs about love, I look at them and say I’ve finally found my muse. He makes me so happy, I’ve never felt this way with anyone. So grateful for meeting him cuz I don’t think I knew what being loved was like. Thank you Lando Norris for being the light in my dark times. I just wish my heart didn’t give up every time you looked at me or got into that damn F1 car. But I think I’ll live. Love you❤️💋

landonorris love you too. Liked by author user 4 what dry ass reply was that Lando, look at y/n comment's on his post Y/BFF/user landonorris does this mean free passes to the races forever?? landonorris Y/BFF/user obviously!! user 5 Lando is so blind, she's only using you user 6 they are so cute, they'd have the cutest babies🥺🥺 user 7 he's too good for her, i wish he was still with Luisinha user 8 y/n prolly watching every race to make sure her man is alive 🤣🤣

After hitting the post button on their respective accounts, Y/N found herself in Lando's arms with her head against his chest and his on top of hers. She wrapped her arms around his torso and took a deep breathe; "I love you so much, you know that, right?" Lando chuckled, “You don't let me forget it, with being your muse and all” She let out a sign of content and mumbled, "Just like the driver's championship you are P3 in my heart" Lando's face dropped, unwrapping his arms and pulling her to eye level, "what do you mean?" Y/N just laughed and said, "my parents and Y/BFF/N are P1 and P2 but am sure you'll become P2 if I write any more songs about you." Lando leaned in and kissed her, she pulled him closer as she deepend the kiss. Both of them happy where they were in each other's arms.

I hope you guys liked it!!

#f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando x reader #ln4 #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #max verstappen #logan sargeant #f1 smau #f1 texts #lando imagine #lando x you

[ilovejeongintoo]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕋𝕠 𝕎𝕚𝕟

!WARNING NSFW Content ahead! !MDNI!

Genre: Fantasy, Gladiator/Minotaur? Jongho x Reader, Warnings: murder, deaths, time accurate sexism, strength kink, touch-starved Jongho, size kink, pet names (Nymph, Doc), no condom(wrap it up), praise Wordcount: 3145 Not proofread

I need red haired Jongho back, desperately. Why did I spend more research on ancient roman practices than this story, I'm crying.

Summary: As a female physician in ancient Rome you're in charge of minor duties, getting a call to the gladiator arena wasn't what you expected, especially with the first ranked one requiring a little more than some of your gauze and bandages.

You absolutely hated this part of the job. Being a physician was great and all but the comments from men never ceased to exist. And you were always made to look like an assistant, making countless people die of things that you were sure were treatable, the male physicians always dismissed any ideas you had, no matter how much proof you gave them.

You got the message today that they would need you at the local gladiator arena, that place shouldn't even exist in your opinion, but that would get you to get called a lunatic. As if being a woman in a male dominated field wasn't bad enough.

Usually, they called you to have you confirm that they were dead, you were usually the bringer of bad news and made sure that the important items on the person were returned to the family. Either to be kept or to be buried later in the day with the body.

That was the only positive things about that gruesome place. It reeked of death; the high, white colosseum walls far more intimidating than your little healing hut.

The guards led you through the open walkways getting you into the room with the dead bodies, you grimaced at the sight slightly. This job really didn't get any easier through the years.

"You better make this quick, we want you to look at a few people that are worth more than that pile over there." The other guard laughed. These were people once too.

"Every day, I wonder how they let a woman do a job like this." They weren't saying this out of concern, not to protect your eyes from this view but to mock you from being the gender you were.

"I'll make it as fast as I can." You did mean it, you wanted to get this over with and leave this place.

"You women should just stay and look after the kids, you're not suited for this kind of work." God if you could, you'd punch his face for even uttering a single word to you. The way their gazes ran over your body, undressing you, it made you feel absolutely repulsed. Men, men like this disgusted you to no end, they deserved the pain that Thanatos would give them when they inevitably perish.

They quickly left you, not too keen on watching touching and examining the corpses. You gently cleaned them off, blood grime and sweat stuck to them even after death. They bodies were hard to move around to get to dirty areas because rigor mortis had them laying in the same position after a while. You closed open wounds so they wouldn't leak as much anymore, so that they at the very least didn't sully the burial clothing.

As the very last step you put them on a blanket and covered their naked bodies with a blanket, ready to be taken to the burial grounds outside of the city.

You took your dirty rags and ceramic bowl with you and the rest of your medical equipment. This was the only thing that healers would allow you to do alone. So, you would at least complete these mundane task to the fullest.

You headed back up to the more residential hospital room, here were some guards and gladiators that survived their fights but weren't supported enough to get their own rooms. Just minor injuries and cuts, making you have to cauterize some wounds and treating some with lint, animal grease, and honey. Depending on how deep and bad they looked.

All this work exhausted you to no end but after a few hours everyone was put to bed for rest or were sent off home. Just as you were about to leave yourself another guard walked up to you before you had the chance to go.

"There's still someone you need to take a look at." He started walking down another way, making you follow him, your white tunica being swooshed around. The hallway seemed to drag on for forever until you were stopped in front of a big set of wooden doors.

"This is as far as I'm going to take you, he tends to… get a little aggressive with us guards." He added that he was the number one gladiator right now, so he was basically a celebrity and that you should treat him as such. You pushed the doors open with a short glance back to the lone guard, he was looking at you almost with a sympathetic face, as if he was in pain. Hopefully he wasn't the violent type, you could deal with an aggressive patient, but you weren't built to fight a professional killer.

The first thing you were greeted by was a big room, with lots of dimmed lights, giving it a warm orangish tone in the bedroom. There was a big bed in the middle of the room, it looked as if it could hold at least 4 people.

There were lit candles and torches all around that emitted the warm glow. The next thing you noticed was the hulking figure in the far end of the room, situated in front of a lit fireplace. They must have not noticed you yet because they didn't turn around at all. The door clicked close, that’s when the person turned their head to the side calling out to you.

"I told everyone, that I didn't want to be bothered." Usually you would leave at that, but there must be a reason why they needed to have a healer look at him, so you wouldn't leave until you did just that.

He didn't sound angry, only exasperated that something like this was happening. You moved forward slightly, clutching your things to your body, nervous because you weren't normally in charge of patients of such high profile.

You didn't look at him, out of respect trying to organize your things on a small table to the side of the meridienne that he was sat on. You only saw his outfit for a moment, barely enough to take in the leather pants and boots, a white shirt accompanying it.

"Didn't you hear what I said, do not bother me." You didn't respond, not too sure if you saying you were going to stay regardless or staying quiet would make him more irritated.

He didn't seem to keen on your lack of a response even though he didn't lash out at you. You were done setting everything up and kept kneeling next to him, now finally speaking.

"I was sent here to take care of any wounds tha-."

"I don't need that"

You lifted your head at the rude interruption, quickly getting stunned by the sight of the man.

Fiery dark red hair and a… surprisingly soft face, he looked young barely older than you. Dark eyebrows and eyes that perfectly matched the rest of his face. He didn't look like a gladiator at all. You've been to countless of fights before as a child, too curious to understand the brutality. And all of them were muscly big dark men, they looked like they would fight anyone and anything.

This man looked nothing of the sort. While there was a good amount of muscle on him, judging by the muscles in his arms and thighs, it was like something from a roman statue. One you'd see at the local temples, worshipped for its beauty and perfection. You wouldn't mind doing exactly that.

What?

No, you were here to help, nothing more, no matter how good looking he was. He was dangerous, he is dangerous.

-do something specific doc?"

What? You looked at his eyes. Not properly hearing him.

"I said, do you need me to do something specific doc?" Oh, right, treatment.

"Any pain anywhere? Or any injuries that you sustained; I'd like to take a look at them." He sighed not really wanting to, but seemingly just wanting to get this over with.

"Just a few cuts, on my arms and back."

"Mhm" He wasn't being transparent with you, so you'd just have to take a look now.

You were waiting for him to take his shirt off, but he didn't move a single inch. You didn't know what man-pride was stopping him from just showing you. Hah, this was going to be an even longer day now. "Just take your top off and I'll see if anything needs further treatment, if you don't let me take a look, you'll get an infection and die." You were talking to him like you were scolding a child, patience wearing thin very quickly.

His shirt was off the very next second and you had to hold back a gasp at all the scars littering his skin. It looked pretty, hard work evident in the scar tissue. Evidence of his survival. You took your jug of saltwater stopping just before pouring over a few open wounds. Warning him about the pain that was going to be coming in a few seconds, he just nodded. No flinch, no whimper, no groan absolutely nothing came out of him.

You knew just how much that hurt, like a burning fire the skin would similarily turn a little red. You quickly moved on to put a small amount of herbal paste on the few cuts along his chest impressed by his anatomy again. Hard to the touch but pliable. You tried to be as gentle as possible, as a last step you brought out some honey using it to form a barrier to the wound and disinfecting it again.

Before wrapping him up you caught sight of something on his shoulder, or back? You couldn't quite see from your position in front of him. You reached for his shoulder and then he turned away, glaring at you now.

"That one's fine." Anyone in s 5 mile radius could tell he was full of bullshit right now."

"No it's not and I'm not gonna let you fucking die from a cut that's easily treatable. So turn around or I will sedate you and do it while you're asleep." Welp, now you did it. Now there was no way that he wouldn't get angry, that must have been his last straw.

Your mouth was closed shut tightly in realization of what you had said. Praying to the gods above to help you out of this mess right now.

He was oddly quiet, that made you look at him. He stared at you, up, down, and then turned around. Without any words. You'd rather not mess with his graciousness again, so you also stayed silent throughout the process of caring for his gash, that was a lot bigger than expected. It would most definitely scar but he wouldn't die from a nasty infection at the very least.

When you were done you put some gauze around it, the other smaller wounds had pieces of fabric on them. You let your hands linger a little on his back muscles not wanting to finish out of nervousness of what he would say next and another part of you because you would be able to continue tracing along his body.

That thought in your mind made you stop, today was not your day. You were usually very professional about all your patients. But something about this man pulled you in. Maybe it was the endless scars that ran across his figure or the rough hand that had calluses from hard work, or the dark eyes that were now trained on you.

Dark eyes that were now trained on you.

You hurried a little out of your half kneeling form, not even noticing how one of your legs was on the sofa, knee buried in the soft cushioning.

You were stepping away a little when his hand shot out to grab your wrist.

"You know I don’t hurt women, I have honor as a warrior, as a man." He caressed your hands a little, looking at them, admiring them as if he wanted to figure out how your hands performed the magic of healing his wounds.

Your heart skipped a little at the contact. "I know." You did, he wasn't the type to do such a thing, not with a touch that soft.

"Say doctor, you would help me from all ailments, isn't that right?" He questioned.

"Of course." Had you missed a spot?

He looked up at you, pulling you into him, his chin resting on your stomach as your hands carefully landed on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, warming you and caging you against him. He was breathing you in for a few moments, seeming to enjoy the comfort of your closeness.

You couldn't imagine how long he must have been without human touch that wasn't violent or deadly. Someone to hold, to search comfort in.

If he needed that, you'd provide, after all you're a doctor and you just hate leaving your patients untreated.

Your hands wandered up his hair pulling his head back and leaning down and clasping your lips together. Climbing on top of him. You could tell hom much he missed this, messy kisses turning rushed and touches exploring every curve of your body. He tugged at a few stings attaching the flowy fabric of your tunic drop with the help of gravity. His hands finding their place on your waist. And yours making quick work of his pants.

"I missed this so much, you're so pretty, so good to me." You could honestly come from his words alone, your explorative touches from before had you thinking a little dirty before, now this was really happening.

"A true goddess sent down to heal me." His kisses just kept going. "Praise Venus for making you so desirable."

You'd never heard words like this from a man, only familiar with the degrading voice of men. He hiked you up slightly, easily lifting you. Getting you closer, your bodies touching in all places.

Your loincloth and breast covering were the next things to go, he was attaching himself immediately to suck onto your exposed boobs. Taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking, and letting go, looking up at you in pure mesmerism dripping from his orbs.

One hand moved down the curve of your back, over your butt and massaged your pussy. Massaging a few fingers over the sensitive slit.

"Jongho, my name, please, call for me." He paused each time, barely getting the words out over him working you up to your peak.

Your noises were unbelievably loud, you would have been embarrassed but you were too much in the moment to care. Moans and groans coming out of you without an ounce of control, Jongho stimulating you so well that you were praying that no gods above were watching this act between you two.

You were barely keeping yourself steadied, your arms slowly giving out. Jongho seemed to notice and flipped you onto the headrest of the couch, having placed himself between your legs. His fingers were now thrusting into you, you hadn't even notice him pumping them in until you really took a look. His big fingers took up so much space inside you, feeling like the biggest dick that you've had before.

He was still looking at you in that concentrated stare, fully intent on having you cum on his fingers. Which he did, only a moment later. Your teeth clenching muffling the loud moan that threatened to escape out of you. Your legs shaking and clamping against his hand, which was stimulating your clit in slow circles now.

It took you a few seconds to get back to earth and you noticed yourself being turned around, your knees propped up a little, stomach over the headrest now. Comfortable after tingles pouring through your nerves, leaving you sensitive.

You felt your entrance being touched with something wet, round, and big. You knew what it was, pushing slightly back to get him in you. You would be damned if you didn't get his cock in you today. Your prayers were answered at a moment’s notice, in the form of a stretching feeling, it burned a little despite the extensive amount of prep. You felt so full when you hear him mutter a little.

"Just a little more, you can take me." He wasn't even fully in and you felt like he was poking at your organs from the inside, brushing onto all the spots in you.

When he bottomed out you truly felt like you were being pushed to your limits, never having felt like this before.

He touched your stomach, pushing in slightly in amazement that you took him, praises falling from his lips, healing away the burn. When he started moving it felt like your insides were being pulled out, dragging long unfiltered moans out of you. Each thrust had him smacking a little harder against your ass, the skin-on-skin noises becoming almost as loud as you. He groaned and moaned when you clenched down especially hard.

"I could live like this, every day have you here spread on my cock. You'd like that wouldn't you little Nymph?" You fit him like a goddamn glove, he couldn’t even remember how sex felt like before this. Before this heavenly sensation.

"Just look at you." He pressed your back down a little, curving it slightly. And angled his thrusts, hitting even harder, knocking your breath out of you on occasion, not quite catching up on the pleasure and your breath.

You reached your hand back, calling his name, needing something to ground you and he obeyed, grabbing onto yours holding on. When his thrusts grew sloppier more desperate you knew he was close and you were too, screaming his name at the top of your lungs you came a second time.

He spilled himself into you at that, liquid filling you up just as much as his cock did. He carefully pulled out, grabbing a blanket that had been thrown down onto the ground and throwing it over you.

You must absolutely look like a mess but he leans down to press a kiss to your lips connecting you two for a few seconds, stopping himself to not have you cumming and bent over in the next few minutes again, as much as he enjoyed to do that. He pulled you into his arms, your head resting on his sweaty chest.

"Let's sleep or you're gonna be the death of me little Nymph." He kissed your head.

That made you remember, his wounds, making you sit up in his arms and checking him over.

"Jongho! you're bleeding."

He grumbled. Not bothered in the slightest. He pulled you down again, keeping you secured along his body. Not letting you leave his embrace and acess the damage properly.

"You can check on those anytime from now on, don't worry."

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #jongho smut #atz smut #atz x reader #ateez x you

[shallowseeker]

Today, am a little obsessed with the concept of Cas + cars

The "pimpmobile" as the mark of immaturity & unsettled identity:

Ah, yes. THE Lincoln V. Very "Tom Selleck." (Magnum PI)

When he steals the Continental "pimpmobile," Cas is symbolically the young buck who hasn't settled down. Indeed, in seasons 9 & 10, Cas is wandering the world in search of penance, inevitably finding himself drawn into another guerilla-angel war. (The new flock with Hannah has all the markings of modern warfare, from the tracking to the maps on the wall. They're just trying to get home, but it's still war.)

In groups, Cas does not drive the car. (Driving is still pretty boring thing to him, and he misses his wings.) So, then, the Continental isn't perfect fit...he just likes it. It's a "searching" car. Cas is trying to find his preferred path.

1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V. (Image by Mikael.)

///

But perhaps Cas grows into the retro meaning of the Continental

The 1978 Lincoln Continental V was modeled after the Thunderbird and sold as a luxury item. Popular in its own right, colors like the one Cas drive were referred to as "understated like a diamond solitaire." It's aimed at the idea that "'real' men command quiet power and don't need to throw it around for show."

(Images by Mikael.)

When Cas is with Hannah, he starts embodying the retro meaning of the car: "Good guy you got there," says the trucker after seeing him interact with her child. Slowly, throughout season 10, the idea of Cas + parenthood is being planted and watered.

At this junction, Cas makes a bold switch to try to appear more human than angel, and among this is doing penance to Claire Novak. Cas learns that being a father fills him with...something. It's a feeling that appeals to him and gives his life a new kind of meaning. He's starting to create a life-framework he prefers.

Yes, the Continental is a "searching" kind of car. Cas drives it primarily when he's without his own grace. (Who ARE you now? Who are you, without "all the bells and whistles?")

When Metatron steals the Continental, thus begins his own dark night of the soul, and we see him struggling with soul-searching up until season 11. Indeed, Metatron has also lost his grace, and he loses his faith in everything, from his father to the very idea of the novel and stories.

When Cas gets the car back, something has changed in him, and it no longer fits. He's got his own grace back, for starters. He also starts staying in the bunker more permanently, the choosing of the human struggle over heaven's war. He's feeling out his human family and finding where he wants to fit within it. ///

The brown truck as mark of family!protectorhood

And post-Continental, it turns out Cas is toootally a truck guy. A few things about trucks:

they sit higher on the road, so the driving experience is totally different than a sedan, or even a muscle car

in terms of handling, you can generally be much rougher with them

that is, they're less responsive to steering, so you can grip and turn considerably less delicately, which might be really nice for someone like Cas

they're less responsive to braking inputs due to their suspension and weight, so if Cas is a lead-foot, this would also be very nice for him

they can carry heavier loads than cars and for greater distances

they're also very reliable and they're less likely to break down

when they do break down, they're easier to work on

Cas's 1987 Ford F-Series from season 12

In season 12, when Cas steals the workerman's truck, he takes on family protector more overtly (or the "father" role, as Cas conceptualizes it in season 15's Gimme Shelter). The protector!truck is a SPN mode reflected all the way from John's truckzilla to the tan Ford truck (same model, nearly same year) that Dean drives when he's "dad" to Lisa & Ben's family unit. Though perhaps unlike Dean, Cas thrives in this role. It's comfortable to him.

From SPN 1x21, John's black 1981 GMC Sierra Grande truckzilla, and from SPN 6x21, Dean's tan 1988 Ford F250. Far right is the The Ford of the kind man who offered him water and a sandwich after The Great Fall in SPN 9x01.

The tan truck is a positive sign of a healthy father!protector, whereas John's truck represents a crumbling of strength and brokenness, with only the outward signs of being a stable father. The tan truck also has a positive motif of kindness, since it bears a striking resemblance to the truck of the guy who showed Cas compassion when he fell (offering him food and drink).

Cas's taking of this vehicle as he rushes to rescue a kidnapped Sam represents a resolution to offer support as a father figure to Sam, post-Dean's "death." Certainly, Cas is Sam's friend; it's not as simple as Cas being solely his angelic protector figure. But there is an element of "parental" support in how he interacts with Sam, especially in later seasons (Gadreel + grace extraction, loss of the AU hunters + subsequent mentorship).

///

Stealing the vehicles, though!

Nevertheless, there's something a little dark in Cas stealing the vehicles, subtly reflecting the horror of the taking of Jimmy's vessel in season 4.

However, since his body was restored to Cas directly a la "organ donation" from God, this late-seasons vehicle choice can also reflect a choosing of roles and identity.

Of note, in his later vehicles, Cas usually drives them, even in groups. They are more fully his.

///

The tan truck + Jack n' Kelly

But oh, back to the tan Ford truck. This little farm truck is cute. It is probably in this truck that Cas first listens to the mixtape.

Cas continues his parenthood journey in it when he spirits Kelly n' Jack away. When Cas is agonizing over whether or not to kill Kelly, his little tan truck breaks down. It reflects his uncertainty to take on this new mantle of mature fatherhood, almost like Jack is pausing the narrative as he considers if Cas will be a good choice of Father. And after this, in the hotel room, Jack indeed chooses Cas.

In doing so, Jack's also choosing the Winchester human family of which Cas is a part. We see this when Jack literally steals Baby, and Kelly waxes poetic about how Cas has been chosen as she drives it. (And Baby does NOT break down. She complies, like she's agreeing that Jack should be born and Cas is indeed the Father.)

(Images WinchesterFamilyBusiness)

Alas, it ends in tragedy. There's something so achingly sad when we see the abandoned truck in front of this dilapidated lakehouse in the valley. It's a desolate image next to the dusty, dull impala. And unlike with the Continental, which represented a Cas trying to fill a graceless, human role by reflecting Dean, the truck showcases a more integrated Cas with new familial role: spouse. Which is why the widower arc feels like that.

Visually, Cas (the truck) and the house (the family unit) are dead. The war has killed them and left only an orphaned child in its wake. And Dean and Sam are in the valley. (Indeed, when Cas returns, in the script, he's described as long-lost father, returning home from War.)

(Lakehouses have so much spooky symbolism with regards to the interconnectivity of space and time, but that's another tale for another day.)

///

The Dodge SRT-10, AKA The Family Truck: renewed faith + fatherhood + retaking of Angelicity

Ah, the Dodge.

So, I love that Cas has this truck in particular. This truck is legendary, kinda controversial and it's just SO ridiculously overpowered and goes SO fast for a truck, hahaha. It's definitely a family support vehicle.

Originally, it is ALSO the vehicle, throughout multiple versions of the script, that was supposed to have the broken tapedeck. (Which means, since it's a 2000s-era truck, that someone probably had to put in a CD-tape combo. Ahem. Anyway, I prefer these original scripts, because this broken tapedeck mirrors Cas's empty deal wonderfully.)

So, the Dodge. With 500 horsepower and 525 lb-ft of torque, it is the fastest truck available, doing 0-60 in a reported 5.2 seconds. It's just so overkill for a quad family truck. ("Nobody else was making a four-door truck with 510 horsepower, so the Dodge people took it upon themselves to fill the void.")

This looks like a shopped-for truck. You're not just gonna happen across a truck like this. "Less than 10,000 of these were ever produced and with a fire breathing V10 under the hood, they were quite possibly one of the coolest trucks ever made." So, we can guess that yes, Cas does appear to genuinely like trucks, and he definitely seems to have chosen this sledgehammer of a vehicle.

The Dodge Ram 1500 SRT-10 pickup truck (specifically for work/hunting and family support). It's a stupid lot of power stuffed into a truck, like how Cas is an angel is stuffed into a human.

Also, this hints that Cas likes rapid acceleration and driving fast. This makes sense to me, as he complained about the Impala being slow, and he told Hannah in season 10 that he would take the curves FASTER "to help her nausea." (Oh, Cas...)

For the later seasons, this truck is visually very "Cas," and in scenes and drafts, he's exclusively the one driving it, and he's usually driving it when other family members are feeling vulnerable; ergo, support. (See original draft versions of The Spear.) Like the specter of the double diamonds in 15x09, The Trap, Cas is utilitarian and pragmatic, a divergent-convergent thinker.

In season 14, Cas also drives:

The blue Ford Fiesta

But I'm 99% confident this is Sam's car

Because vintage SPN underlines that blue, nondescript cars are actually Sam's preferred car make and look

It's fuel efficient, so Cas takes it to the shaman

Also, Cas's acting on behalf of Sam's wishes when he goes to see Sergei

Ford LTD Crown Victoria (the bird poop car)

Presumably, he drives the bird poop car in Peace of Mind to be a little more incognito than the big, imposing truck

It also reflects Sam's low state of mind

Sam drives it in Moriah, too, a direct parallel to Sam versus Chuck and Sam versus Mayor Harrington from Charming Acres

The super sexy 1968 Mercury M100

Another truck Cas drives in late season 15 with Jack is this open-bed teal classic. The incredibly collectible 1968 Mercury M100.

And this M100 is delicious.

It's also, like the SRT-10, highly sought after and not a truck you're going to just happen across. It's another shopped-for truck. (I find it unlikely that it was one of the classics sitting in the MoL bunker, since they were slaughtered by Abaddon in 1958 and this one's make is 1968.)

So, either Cas has gotten into rare trucks (a real possibility since this one is even more challenging to drive), or Dean shopped this one with him, too. It's probably a mix of both, considering that in 13x22's Exodus script, Cas is shown helping with basic mechanics and repair. It's very possible that Cas has developed an interest alongside his newfound interest in human language and metaphors.

ANYWAY, these M100's are as classy as fuck and are actually workhorse trucks, too.

It's got a legendary straight six engine, and again, there weren't many of these vehicles built or sold. (Straight six is a trusty little pump of power, especially for the time. It's also easier to work on than most; would be great for someone who's only so-so at maintenance.)

This truck, unless it's been upgraded, is a little bit hard to handle, too. It takes a firm grip and a heavy foot, because it's a manual through and through. Manual gear shifting and no power steering. It's a two-hander just to go around curves.

In terms of its style, it's a little more laidback than the Dodge, which is probably why Cas is taking it on the murder investigation (i.e. not hunting). It's got an open bed, which means it's probably a little more fun for Jack, too. (Indeed we see Jack enjoying sitting in the truck bed. The green/teal is a symbol of renewal & growth, visually keying into Jack's return and the slow healing of the family unit.)

CASTIEL: My name is, um well, my name's not important. I do know what blind faith is. I used to just follow orders without question, and I did some pretty terrible things. I would never look beyond the plan. And then, of course, when it all came crashing down, I found myself lost. I didn't know what my purpose was anymore. And then one day, something changed, something amazing. I... I guess I found a family, and I became a father. And in that, I rediscovered my faith. I rediscovered who I am.

This is Castiel's preferred answer to season 15's question of nihilism.

This is what Castiel has chosen, and his later-seasons vehicles reflect this desire and this chosen identity. He even walks away from it in 15x06 to meditate on his path, and when he steps away, he sees Chuck for what he is. He chooses to come back specifically to fight Chuck's machinations and protect his family from them. To help them find their way post-existential crises, the way they helped him find his way re:Heaven. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish...till death do us part.

//

Some other Cas + cars fun stuff

The broken tapedeck in the script

The Fiesta is totally Sam's car

#cas + trucks #castiel #spn castiel #dean/cas + vehicle selection #the family truck #cas + driving #cas + cars #this was purely self indulgent #for funsies #i gave it a positive meaning because we need more of it #happy sunday

[zexonyte]

yeah i made him a fish lookin thang whatcha gonna do about it

#mother series #giegue #earthbound beginnings #yeah im proud of this so im putting it on tumblr too. hiii mother times server how yall doing #ignore that he doesnt have a back leg i tried but it looked kinda weird and cramped #anyways i gave giegue gill things and a more fish-esque appearance because i hc his species is aquatic #like they come from an oceanic? aquatic? unsure. well its a planet that is almost entirely water im talkin subnautica levels of sea #that's why he had that capsule orb thing in mother 1. he needs it to live and the weird engine-esque things at his side are like purifiers #making sure the liquid is suitable. not too focused on much else (why bother when you're a super powerful psychic) but isn't exactly fragil #like the material is flexible and rubbery even. you hit it and it bounces back a good amount #we don't really get an explanation for why earth itself was chosen to get invaded. at least i don't remember if there was one sorry 😭 BUT #i hc also that the reason giegue's species decided to invade here specifically was because of territory. i mean we've got a lot of water #maybe they took george and maria to test humanity in a sense. if they reacted positively to an alien child mayybe they wouldnt have needed #to straight up eradicate humanity maybe this time we wont need to fight too much. would be inconvenient to waste firepower on these #simple creatures. they're not even that smart. can't even use our epic brain powers lol (aged real well) #once again they aint found him yet but when they do they gon be surprised #anyways its like 4 in the morning i cant keep doing this. thanks for reading my brainworms over a game ive never played 🤙

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Actuallly, one last personal life story this week kinda just to air it out? One of my coworkers who like graduates high school within the next month was serving with me on friday and he just out of nowhere looked me dead in the eyes with a like smile on his face but a kinda lost… helpless look in his eyes and said in a kinda scared desperate voice: “I think I might be depressed”

And like we aren’t really close? I’m his manager and he’s a team leader and he does talk to me a lot but just like over silly things like star wars and he asks me to watch movies and listen to music he likes sometimes, so my first thought was it’s a joke right?

But he’s not the kinda person to joke about that? And we were…. Kinda busy…? So i sort of just started asking him if school was almost over, cause he’s in a bunch of ap courses and had a lot of tests that week so i knew that was probably part of it

But then, i didn’t really… talk to him about it? And I didn’t close for once and forgot to circle back?

So all weekend I’ve been worried about him cause he’s literally just this… kid who is super smart and leaving us for a great college in the fall but is starting to get depressed and he clearly trusts me??? Which is horrifying, like of all the people he chose me to confide in???

So my plan is to get him something. Like physical that he can hold that will remind him that people care about him and are rooting for him and like i know that’s not going to cure depression but like maybe it’ll make him feel a little better

#i wanna buy him a crystal that is specific to what i think his situation is #but he is NOT a crystal boy #but it’s the thought that counts right…? #it just needs to be physical and he can hold it a lot #a compass??? #like dumb follow your heart type shit??? #HOW DO I CIRCLE BACK TO HIM ON THIS #I’m gonna have to actually start watching his movie recs cause i honestly NEVER DO #but i jUST FORGET OKAY #I DIDNT KNOW THAT HE TRUSTED ME LIKE THAT? #I THOUGHT HE JUST LIKED ATTENTION (and I mean this in a really positive genuine manner) AND I GAVE HIM ATTENTION #i kinda hate that my love language is goft giving #like if I had MORE TIME IT WOULD BE BETTER BUT THIS IS KINDA URGENT BECAUSE I LOWKEY LEFT HIM HANGING ON FRIDAY??? #i feel so so so bad #And we don’t text because he’s a CHILD #so i couldn’t just text him??? #I’m fucking 23 #reaching out to an 18 year old? #i know it’s to check up on him but i feel like it’s kinda weird and awkward still #i’m just rambling at this point #if you made it this far sorry 🙇‍♀️ #but also if you have any advice on what to get him!!! #i’m all ears

[rottiens]

WHISPERS OF RECONCILIATION ┊S. GOJŌ

✮ word count: 1.8k

✮ summary. your husband is less and less at home due to missions he can't turn down, so every time he comes back, you feel him more distant.

✮ tags. . husband gojō x afab reader, they have a daughter, marital problems, angst to fluff, canon au, the struggle of being a first time mom. divider creds: cafekitsune.

You turn on the faucet, releasing the stream of water as you hear the front door open.

The noise doesn't scare you or stop you from your task since you know it's him. As you cover the sponge with the fun bubbles from the dishwashing gel, you hear his footsteps like a muffled distant noise, in the passage from the main entrance to where you are, his presence looms like lightning warning of a storm. All the lights are off except for the one in the kitchen which makes gojo trace his path directly towards you.

It doesn't take long for his arms to wrap around your waist from behind. You don't flinch, unlike when you did at the beginning of the relationship.

"What?" Gojo laughs at the line of your neck, it's a snort that denotes weariness. He smells of beer, far beneath that are traces of the perfume he had soaked himself in this morning when he left the house. "No reaction now?" Gojo breathes your skin, you smell of sweat and dirty clothes and the kisses he leaves on your neck make your stomach clench.

You do your best to pretend that his touch doesn't set your skin on fire, that his long fingers slipping under your nightgown have no effect on you.

The grip on the innocent plate tightens, a little, then tighter. Gojo keeps breathing into the shell of your ear, just behind the cartilage where he manages to bristle your skin until you can pretend no more and set the plate aside causing a clatter in the puddle of water, your fingers form fists under the warm spray of the faucet.

"Stop." It's not a command but a gentle request, you press your lips together and gojo stops right away.

"Are we still fighting?" Gojo sounds like a puppy you just kicked to the curb and yet he doesn't insist, pulls his hands off your body and takes a step back, you almost instantly regret it.

"Yes," you reply after a while, to a question he forgot he asked.

You hear him sigh heavily, then you feel him grab you by the waist and with your help you allow him to turn around until you are facing him. You refuse to look at him however after a while you give in, his tousled hair falls like snowflakes across his forehead, his eyes are naked, blue and alert staring at you. On top of his uniform he had a denim jacket on, you're sure it didn't cover him much from the winter cold and that probably geto lent it to him when they went out drinking because your gojo always forgot his coats.

You imagine him going reluctantly, just not to say no to his best friend, because your gojo hates the taste of alcohol as much as you do.

Gojo doesn't move, he lets his hand seek yours without detaching from your eyes. His fingers are icy cold and you shiver at the sudden touch, suddenly Gojo is taking your hand into his mouth. His lips rest on the back of your wet hand, droplets of water manage to reach the floor and his shoes and you let him do it because the scene is too commniveddorative to damage the moment.

His mouth murmurs a sorry for each kiss he deposits. Immediately your damp skin releases him from the cold of the street and when he kisses you a fourth time, you can feel them grow warmer. Gojo suddenly stops from the task and looks up at you from his position raising his eyebrows, your hand still close to your mouth, so close that his next words brush your skin. "I don't like it when we fight."

You don't like it either. But you had no choice but to stop talking and frown as you gave him a killing look when he told you he couldn't say no to a mission. What did he mean by that? you wondered. His daughter was three months old and all he did was miss her first babbles, not being home when you needed him, barely changing her diapers and barely feeding her.

Your feet are killing you, your muscles looked like they had been bitten by a giant monster and the circles under your eyes were getting darker with each passing day.

"You're frowning." When gojo speaks again, you notice that his back is straight now.

Slowly you move away from his touch and your arm returns to you, dangling beside your body.

"I don't want to talk about it."

You get ready to turn around to focus on washing the dishes, including his because his dinner got cold in the dining room, next to yours, while you were feeding your little girl, however gojo interrupts you by returning to make prey to your hips with his hands and thus sticking you a second time to his body. 

"Leave it. I'll do it." 

Your lungs fill and soon empty with another exhalation. And before gojo can respond to anything else you were already leaving the room.

You were tired, you could feel it in the way your bare feet dragged the floor beneath them, swollen and full of calluses. Gojo watches you as you turn the corner and lose yourself in the hallway with a dark aura surrounding your whole figure and your shoulders being pulled by the force of the floor.

Gojo returns to the dishes in front of him. Only his, a glass and a pair of forks remained, which he washed without haste.

The silence of the kitchen serves as an executioner that punishes him along with his thoughts for his actions. Gojo thinks about the day, thinks about his girl and thinks about you and how unfair it must be for you to have given up these months of being a sorceress who risked her life every day to be a full-time mother while the drab and boring walls loom over you.

His footsteps are long and silent, Gojo crosses the hallway where he can hear water spurting from part of the guest bathroom. He thinks about stopping at the door and asking you if you need anything else, however he leaves you this moment alone and heads towards the baby's room. Gojo pushes the door causing a rustic scream from the wood, in the background there is an acoustic melody playing and a bluish night light carrying in them figures of stars and moons swaying on the walls of the room. Gojo had bought it especially for her, it was the first gift he bought when you told him you were pregnant. The memory makes him smile, nostalgic.

Gojo restrains himself from stretching his arms and pulling her to his chest. So he just bends his back until his spine complains and deposits a soft kiss on her forehead that his girl never feels, since he activates his technique in time to not touch her and prevent her from waking up.

Just as he came in, he left. He no longer hears you in the hallway, there is no more water dripping from the shower, yet there are wet footsteps going towards the shared room that give away that you were done.

Gojo slips into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and contemplates himself in the mirror for a moment, still the same as always, with a couple of black spots under his eyes and the occasional irritated red vein in the infinite sea of his blue eyes. He fills his lungs with your scent, the liquid gel of vanilla flowers bounces inside the four walls of the bathroom, he drops his eyelids and buries his fingers in the ceramic of the sink.

Gojo takes off his jacket and lays it on the floor, then discards the rest of his clothes. His fingers curl around the faucet and he lets the hot water wash away the traces of the day from him as he relives over and over again the arguments you’ve had these past months. 

The soap scrubs away the weariness of the day along with his dreary thoughts, these run down the drain along with the dirty suds that the water bathes off his body.

Once he is done, he wraps a towel around his hips. He turns off the rest of the lights and goes to bed.

You are on your side of the mattress with your back to the door, everything is dark except for the moonbeams that manage to enter through the crack that the curtains cannot protect. He closes the door with a soft sound and turns to you, leaving the towel hanging behind the door, gojo climbs into bed with his body and soul naked.

He knows you're not sleeping. It takes him a moment to find his voice, lost in the spots on the ceiling, he searches for the right word he should use instead of "I'm sorry."

"I," he clears his throat, one finger tapping his own rib. "I'm not going to school tomorrow."

At first gojo thinks you are sleeping, you say nothing and your breathing is slow and steady.

"And?" That's all you say, encouraging him to keep talking.

"I will tell Yaga that I need a couple of weeks off, I want to have these days together with my wife and daughter."

You don't answer again, you let your body do the talking. You push further into him, your ass collides with his side and he laughs softly, improving his posture to better embrace you from behind. His arms immediately cling to your waist in a possessive manner, drawing you to his chest where you feel his ragged breathing.

"I'm still upset," you finally say, feeling him smile against your ear as he squeezes your body tighter. "But I guess that's a start."

"You have worked so hard these days and I am sorry to leave you alone, I promise I will make it up to you, there is no justification in having left you alone these weeks." You force your lip between your teeth to keep from giving him the pleasure of making you smile. "I'm going to start with cooking tomorrow."

You laugh instantly, gojo pulls you further into his body, threatening to tickle you and you raise your hands in submission.

"You cooking sounds very tasty, satoru. It's just..."

"Hm?" 

"It's just that you haven't done it in a while." Then you add, "It's been a while since you've been home."

Gojo merely kisses your bare shoulder and plays with the skin on your abdomen.

"I'm sorry," he says, after a while. You nod looking at his hands, looking at how pretty the engagement ring looks on them. "I love you so much, I love our daughter, I love what we have. I don't want to ruin that."

You bring his hands to your mouth, your stomach swelling with tension, your gut roiling as you bring them close enough to kiss his knuckles and then assure a barely audible, "I love you too. Let's talk about it tomorrow, shall we?”

#wr #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #husband gojo

[zeldasnotes]

ᴬˢᵀᴿᴼ ᴼᴮˢᴱᴿⱽᴬᵀᴵᴼᴺˢ ³²

25 26 27 28 29 30 31

Some of the most kind people Ive ever met had had Jupiter conjunct Moon/Venus. Pure, genuine kindness.

Fama(408) conjunct Uranus can indicate overnight fame. This aspect reminds me of the people who are recorded saying something really funny without realizing it and when they wake up in the morning and see the video went viral.

Venus 10th house is common in the charts of people who work with beauty procedures with a more permanent effect like microblading, cosmetic tattoos, laser hair removal etc. People with these placements often like to get these procedures done on themselves too. Since 10th house is ruled by saturn and saturn is time they want something that lasts instead of just going to a makeupartist.

If one of your parents have Venus in the 5th house you probably hot af.

Moon/Venus conjunct Chiron can mean constantly befriending or falling for the wrong women. They are drawn to people who need healing. But what they forget is that misery loves company.

Everytime I like an artist to the point of liking EVERY song they make we had Venus 8th house synastry. There is a deep understanding here when it comes to art.

Fama(408) conjunct Moon = Soccer mom image👩🏻‍🍼⚽️🧸

People with Ceres(1) conjunct personal planets tend to be well liked.

Venus/Saturn aspects might be hated on more by older people than people their own age. Older women might comment on their looks and older men notice them.

Everytime someone throws a fit in my comments its because I said something about their Moon aspect/sign. Which kinda proves what a sensitive planet the Moon is.

Moon can show where you spend so much time to the point of living there. I read about a person in true crime who lived in her car and she had Moon in the 3rd house, Ive seen Moon in the 6th house who are at work all the time, Ive seen Moon in the 11th housers who are always at their friends house.

Mars, Nessus or Lilith in the 11th house can be keyboard warriors. 🤬💻

Part of Fortune in the 5th house makes someone blessed with extraordinary creativity.

Ive seen people with Lilith Square Jupiter might have to suffer a lot because of rebelling against cultural/religious expectations.

Mars Square Uranus are the kind of people to EXPLODE with physical energy. This makes them excellent at martial arts since they move quick. Mike Tyson have Mars Square Uranus and Pluto.

Venus in Leo in the solar return chart can make you more interested in fashion & haircare that year. 💅

Transit Asteroid Destinn(6583) was conjunct my natal Venus and Transit Moon was in my natal 7th house the day I met the love of my life. Transit Juno(3) was conjunct my natal Juno.

Transit Dejanira(157) conjunct my natal Ascendant was hell. Ive never been victimized by others like I was during that year.

Women with Lilith and Pluto aspecting the Ascendant always look so good in bloodred or jetblack hair.

Moon in the 11th house might find a lot of comfort in social media. Social media can be their escape.

Juicy Couture just screams Taurus energy to me. The soft comfy but still so rich and pretty look to the clothes and bags is pure Taurus. (I cant be the only one who relate certain brands to a sign?)🛍️

Be careful with 2nd house synastry bc it can really make you want to buy someone stuff. I dont know if its house or planet who usually wants to buy bc Ive seen both ways around. Sure it can be a positive thing but not if one is a user and the other is naive. Can also make one expect stuff from the other. 💰

Me and my lilsister have 2nd house synastry but we would never use eachother we just love buying eachother stuff and discuss food and shopping together. For us the giving goes both ways. But Ive seen other situations where one just gave and gave without getting anything back.

Most Libra Venus men Ive met made a very big deal out of what their type is. The type to let eeeeverybody know about how they only date redheads. They can become VERY into what they find beautiful.

Venus says a lot about your behaviour bc Venus is what we find attractive and ofc we act as we want to be seen. Capricorn Venuses for example tend to act in a very mature and serious way. Their behaviour really screams ”take me seriously or live to regret it.”

People with Venus/Pluto tends to get a lot of unwanted suggestions on what to do with their looks.

Transit Asteroid Destinn(6583) was conjunct my natal Venus the day I met the love of my life. And transit Juno(3) was conjunct my natal Juno.

Plutonian Moons can always spot eachother. Same with Chiron 1st house and Lilith 11th house. Thats because these placements all bring experiences in someones youth that can be easily seen on the person later in life.

©️ 2024 Zeldas Notes All Rights Reserved

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #birth chart readings #lilith #asteroids #ceres #fama asteroid

[zyafics]

finish line | rafe cameron

masterlist (one shot)

pairing rafe cameron x maybank! female reader

summary when your little brother has to forfeit a race against rafe, he seeks your help to replace him and win. what he doesn’t know is your own relationship with the kook prince, and what it means if you win. — reader type bitch(!), bike-savvy, intelligent, protective of jj, head-strong and stubborn, uses a dab pen!

content (10.0k words) 18+, smut, dominance play, handjob, cockwarming, oral (female receiving), spitting, face riding, unprotected p in v sex, position(s): cowgirl and doggy style, creampie, edging, bulge + size kink, lots of banters and arguments, lots of moments between jj and reader!

dedication to @sadfury for inspiring me with ur maybank! reader <3 sorry this took me ages 😭

lıllılı If We Being Reäl by Yeat and ONE CALL by Rich Amiri

You were painting your nails when JJ barged into your room.

"What?" You look up from your desk, the cherry-red polish dripping from the brush to the bottle, while your little brother fills the entryway. He's wearing a white tank top, the fabric stained with oil grease because of how much time he spends tricking out his motorcycle.

"I need your help."

"Not surprised." You hum, resuming your paint job as you reach your pinky finger.

He lets out a groan. "I'm serious."

"Heard that one before."

"Come on." JJ pouts. "You're not listening to me."

You turn, your brother slumps his shoulders and puts both hands in a prayer. "I am. Have you ever heard of multitasking?"

"Since when did you learn to do that?"

You grab the nearest object—your expired dab pen—and chuck it in his direction. It hits him square in the chest, which is odd considering he often dodges your attacks, before falling to the ground with a small thud.

"What do you want, you little bastard?" You snarl, finishing off the last coat of your polish. When you do, you twist your focus back to JJ, giving him your undivided attention.

He lets out a boyish grin. "Y'know how you're my favorite sister?"

"I'm your only sister."

"Y'know how you love me?"

"On my good days."

"Can you just be agreeable for once?"

"Spit it out." You let out a growl of annoyance, waving an impatient hand in his direction at his pathetic attempt at beating around the bush. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Classic."

"I mean, I'm not in any trouble. Yet."

The yet is worrisome. JJ is notorious for landing himself into trouble, more times than you can take him out. You gave up on telling him not to get involved in stupid activities because it's in the Maybank bloodline to gravitate towards drama. But you told him that if he continues to do so, he has to handle his own. To not rely on you too much. He listened—begrudgingly.

The first couple of times after your warning, he would contact you for any misdemeanors he caused with the local police and when you stopped answering the calls, he got the message. The only time he asks for your help is when it comes to your father and that's the only exception you make.

"I entered into a race." He begins slowly, running a hand through his blond hair, which has gotten lighter from his time spent under the sun.

You consider his words with caution. "Right."

"And y'know how they have those stupid fees for entry?"

"You mean to make a profit?"

"Yeah, that," he nods, rolling his eyes at you as if you were the dumb one. "Well, I took Luke's stash in order to do it."

"You did what?"

Standing from your chair, your brother flinches at your abrupt motion, hitting his back against your door. It's so unlike him.

There's a rule when it comes to money: don't mess with Luke's. He uses it for whatever self-mediating bullshit he can get his hands on: drugs, alcohol, even the occasional gambling bets. However, one good thing about the bastard is that he leaves you alone. Let you do whatever you want if it doesn't involve his money.

But if it does?

You're fucked.

"'Swear I was gonna win it back. He wouldn't even noticed it was missin' in the first place."

You inhale a sharp breath, staring daggers at him while you devise a solution. You could pick up an extra shift at your job to pay the difference, but it depends on the amount.

"How much?"

He hesitates before answering. "$750."

"Seven hundred—" You had to turn away. You were going to strangle your brother to death if you looked at him any longer. There's absolutely no way in hell you would be able to cover that. Not before your father notices the missing dent in his stash that he weekly partakes from.

"The payout was gonna be triple that amount. And you know how good I am with a bike, I was gonna win—easy. I thought it was a good idea."

You give him some leeway. He is a good racer, as much as it pains you to admit, and he entered in a couple of smaller bets before which he won in a landslide.

"So what's the problem?" You ask with an edge to your voice. If JJ had this entire contingency plan, the only reason he's coming to you isn't the money. Or Luke. It's something much worse.

"I can't ride."

Your expression breaks. Your first instinct is to scan his face and figure, checking for any bodily injuries. To make sure your little brother is okay. When you don't discover anything other than surface-level scratches, you turn back to him with a raised brow. "Why not?"

"I haven't gotten off my high."

"What?"

You cross the small room in two strides before grabbing his face, tipping his head backwards, and pulling his eyelids open with your thumbs. There you discover the problem: his pupils are dilated, pitch-black. “What did you take?”

“Something new at the Chateau with John B. 'Thought it was just another blunt, but it hit much harder. I can’t balance and my vision is shot. I can’t drive tonight.”

You inhale a steady breath, letting him go. “It’s tonight?”

"Yeah, and I know you don't do that anymore, but I need your help. Dad's gonna kill me if he finds out I lost his money."

"I'm gonna kill you."

"Can it wait until after you save my ass?"

A few hours later, you find yourself on an empty road with the other contestants, adjusting the headset the organizer gave you. You scan the layout of the familiar course: surrounded by dense mangroves, the road is mostly flat, layered thick with moisture from the nearby marsh, with discarded branches and leaves scattered across the ground.

You're using JJ's signature bike, helmet and donning a similar attire to what he wears whenever he races. A black jacket that cloaks your figure, dark-washed jeans and fingerless gloves that allows you to have a better grip on the throttle.

The helmet is on, hiding your hair, and the visor is tinted with a thick coat that forces you to adjust for the loss of light. You've ridden before, but each motorcycle is different. Shifting your weight on JJ's bike, you try to remember the exact curves of the machine and stabilize it as an extension of you—rather than you and the vehicle.

"Hey, Maybank!" A familiar voice calls out over the roaring engines churning out clouds of thick smoke. You turn to find Rafe Cameron—Kook prince, entitled asshole, and someone you hooked up with, once, drunk, at a party.

You hate to admit he was one of the best lays you ever had.

"Surprised to see you here. Didn't think you could afford the cover." Rafe greets, his tone dripping with condescension.

You hum thoughtlessly, adjusting the gloves over your palms. Rafe huffs at your lack of response, rubbing his upper lip with his own gloved hand.

"I saw you rocking on your bike; you scared or something?" He jeers, attempting to catch you in a moment of relapse. "I mean, your bike's a piece of shit, so I'm not surprised."

You say nothing, scoffing into the headset where you know Rafe can hear. Since the track is long and wide, it can't connect everyone on the same frequency and is mainly used to connect you to the nearest player.

Without sparing Rafe any more attention, you move closer to the start of the line.

You do a mental headcount to tally the payouts. These things vary by race and entry, but each person has to pay the same fee. The person organizing the event takes a 30% cut out of the pot, which makes the stakes heighten with more competitors. With a brief overview of the crowd, you recognize there's more than what JJ anticipated. It isn't triple. Fuck, it could be six times the amount of your initial entry.

"Don't tell me that little comment already got under your skin. I haven't even gotten to half the shit I wanna say to you yet." Rafe announces into the fuzzy audio of the headset, coming up to the empty lot beside you. "How's your sister, by the way?"

You roll your eyes. Of course, Rafe would resort to you when it comes to pissing off your brother. It's good ammunition for getting him off his game.

But you're not JJ.

You had a retort on the tip of your tongue, but you decided to play it smart. Rafe thinking you're JJ could be an advantage for you.

A girl with a checkered flag steps in front of you. She sashays across the road, earning some wolf whistles, before holding up the banner, counting down. The moment she descends into one, you speed off.

The thing about riding is that you have to know your leans. More specifically, your physics. The goal is to reduce air resistance and friction—that's what slows you down. The best way is to tuck closer to the bike, tilting at an angle that minimizes the amount of contact your wheels have with the surface, thus removing the airflow hitting your profile.

You do just that.

Despite a shittier bike in comparison to your competitors, you ride past a couple of drivers, inching closer to Rafe leading at the front. He's utilizing the edge of the curve, another trick in the books, and when he discovers you on his tail, he turns in shock.

"How the fuck did you get here?"

You stiffen a laugh, shrugging your shoulders and sparing him a short glance before you accelerate. You admit, Rafe's bike is better—a sleek red model with stronger engine power and gear shift, but you had other conditions in your favor. You had your physics, the memory of the roadmap in the back of your hand, and a riveting spite that refuses to let Rafe gain victory.

Accelerating around one of the turns, you drive closer to Rafe to gain control of the edge, tilting your bike at a dangerous angle. You knew it would be a risk that could get you injured—especially on this specifically slick road—but it cuts off your surface contact by a significant amount, allowing you to speed up ahead of him.

You hear a muffled fuck over the reception.

That's how the rest of the race works. Rafe picks up on your little tricks and tries to mimic them, but they don't replicate well because he doesn't know the foundation. You speed ahead. He speeds ahead. It's a neck-and-neck contest that can be anyone's game.

"Come on, Maybank, you know you ain't gonna win," Rafe sneers with heavy breaths through the shared audio. "You're gonna fuck up your bike at the rate you're going."

You want to talk back. Desperately. But you hold onto your anonymity.

"You really think you're gonna win against me, Pogue?"

Silence.

Rafe's goading you, but you're not taking the bait. Your concentration is sharp, your focus paid straight. He'll never admit it, but it makes him nervous.

Ditching the vocal approach, Rafe decides on action. He leans closer, hoping to cut you off. You have since taken the edge from him, utilizing it with your mechanics, and he made it his next mission to push you off the tracks.

You aren't blind, you noticed. It's not illegal in the game—since this is an illegal race itself—but it's a dirty trick. Something you pull out when you're desperate.

That gives you a reading.

Rafe's so focused on making JJ lose, he's not even trying to win anymore.

Instead of chasing a direct route to the finish line, you decide to go off-road into a thin strip that can skim a few seconds off but is more dangerous. The construction site is still up, with scattered loose asphalt and split rock thrown across the narrow path, marked by a caution sign that reads slow down.

Tough luck.

Rafe concentrates on your wheels, trying to predict your next moves. When you change routes, he barely questions it and follows. You pull to the edge of the restricted path, luring him with an opening, and just as he's about to cut through—you tuck inwards and accelerate, twisting your bike in a quick curve that leans into your centripetal gravity.

This causes a torrent of loose pebbles, gravel, and rocks to be thrown at Rafe's direction, deflecting off his helmet but forcing him to slow to a stop. You take a few seconds of respite to increase your speed and turn back around, moving out of the tightly-wounded spot and onto the original path.

The more you ride, the larger the distance grows between you and Rafe until you cross the finish line.

Pulling to a halt, you park. While you wait, you check your nails to see if anything messed up.

Not a scratch.

The familiar roar of a strong engine closes in and the red motorcycle announces its arrival with a glaring headlight. Rafe crosses the finish line—second place—and does an awful parking job before throwing off his helmet, marching over to you.

"What was that, Maybank?" He snaps, closing the distance as he reaches for the collar of your jacket, lugging you towards him till you're face-to-face with your helmet still on. His hot breath fans against your visor. "Think you could pull that bullshit and not have to pay the consequences?"

You scoff, unfazed by his aggression and move to release your strap, his steel blue eyes following your every move.

He sees your nails, the recognition dawning slowly, before you pull off your helmet.

And the look on Rafe's face is incredible.

"Wrong Maybank," you correct with a smirk while his grip around your collar loosens. You set the helmet on your seat. "And next time, if you don't wanna play dirty, don't start something you can't finish."

"It's you."

His voice is indistinct, and his expression is unreadable. You don't know if his observation is a good or bad thing. Sure, the last time you two saw each other, you didn't exactly leave on the greatest terms. You left in the middle of the night after your one-night stand. He didn't call. You didn't try either.

"Yeah?" You challenge. "And what about it?"

He doesn't answer, the only show of emotion is the subtle tick in his jaw.

"Speechless, Cameron? Come on, you were talking my ear off during the race. What happened to that guy?"

You're taunting him but it feels good to deliver him a taste of his own medicine. Does he know how many good quips were lost during your race?

He doesn't say anything, his jaw wired shut.

"Don't tell me you're a sore loser," you tease, tipping your head up to meet his hardened gaze, lifting your hand to brush a strand of his hair—when he catches your wrist. A warning. Your smirk broadens. "Don't be like that. There's some consolation in watching my ass."

He doesn't answer, and you laugh, pulling your arm from his grip. The rest of the racers make it across the finish line, the murmuring of their engines signaling their defeat. You divert your attention to the organizer, who is declaring the winner.

"Gotta go, Cameron. Have to collect my prize." You say, hopping back on your bike.

Before you leave, you glance over your shoulders to Rafe, who hasn't moved from his spot, his piercing eyes following you.

"A little word of advice, next time, you should pay attention to the hands." You declare, flashing your nails to reveal the cherry-red polish. He says nothing, not even a compliment. "Watch what they can do."

With those parting words, you ride off, flipping your middle finger as you return home with your winnings.

The following day, you replace the stolen cash in your father's hidden canister and pocket the rest. While you thought it would be the end of it, JJ's trying his hardest to convince you to split the loot.

"Come on." JJ whines, sliding into a booth in your section. You're lucky there's barely any customers today, saved for a couple of locals in the middle of their lunch. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even have the money."

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have almost killed myself trying to win." You retort, claiming the seat in front of him.

He scoffs. "Tell me about it, you cleaned out my tires."

He's referring to the fact that due to the advanced techniques you used during the race, his bike wasn't able to handle the pressure and smoothed out the ribs of the tread pattern.

"It’s your fault you didn’t invest in better wheels."

"Maybe with the money I can,"

You scoff, pulling your dab pen from the pocket of your work apron and taking a long hit, exhaling the strawberry-flavored smoke.

JJ says your name with a pout.

"No." You declare firmly, irritation bubbling in your chest. "I won it. I keep it. It's as simple as that."

"You're such a bitch," he slumps back against his seat, toying with the salt-and-pepper shakers on the corner of the table. "No love for your baby brother."

Even though he's guilt-tripping you, a part of you is considering it. Not because you want to concede to his manipulation, but rather because you do have an obligation to take care of him, no matter how annoying he can be. Before you reach a decision, the bell dings to signal the arrival of a new customer.

Rafe surveys the diner before he lands on you.

"Why is one of the Powerpuff Girls coming over here?"

You shrug, unable to provide him with a sufficient answer, when Rafe stops just in front of your booth.

You raise a bored brow, exhaling another puff. "Table for one?"

"Like I would be caught dead in a place like this."

"Yet, here you are." You wave a hand out to the open diner. "Would you like to try our takeout option?"

JJ stiffens a laugh behind his closed fist and Rafe glares at him. "Don't you have someplace to be, Pogue?"

Your brother clears his throat. "Yeah, actually, haven't you heard? I was with your mom last night—"

"Hey," you snap your fingers in front of Rafe, dragging his attention away from entertaining your loose cannon of a brother who's itching for a confrontation. You know topics about Rafe's mother are a hushed topic around the town, and you'd rather not deal with it. "That's enough. What do you want, Cameron?"

Rafe's objective was to talk to you alone, in private, but seeing as you won't be willing to move, he had to settle on the open discussion.

"I want a rematch."

"Really?" You pretend to consider the offer. "No thanks."

"It wasn't a fair race."

"For me or for you?" You turn your body to him, tilting your head. "If I remember correctly, you tried to push me off the road."

"And you led me astray and drove rocks at me," he retorts, flicking his eyes to catch a subtle peek of your short work attire. He grits down on his teeth, returning his focus back to your face. "Look, it doesn't matter. I just want another race with you."

You shrug. "I don't care."

His jaw ticks.

You would consider the deal if there were any appealing proposals he could give, but there are none. You have no skin in the game. You have no reason to engage. You chalk up Rafe's reaction as his inability to accept a no once in his life.

"Anything else?"

He doesn't respond.

Without anything substantial to add, you turn back to your brother. JJ sends a look across the table, one only a sibling can read, and you return a silent gesture that says later.

Rafe says your name.

Another customer enters the establishment and this time, it means you have actual work to attend to. With a reluctant sigh, you stand from the booth, raising a brow at Rafe's refusal to step out of your way. When he doesn't move and you're about to walk around—he grabs your arm.

"Don't ignore me."

"It's not like it's the first."

Irritation seeps through his chest. "God, why are you being so difficult?"

Your nostrils flare at the accusation, meeting Rafe's gaze head-on. "Let go."

He doesn't listen.

"If I had known you were in the race, it would've turned out completely different."

"So, what? You're saying you would've been worse if you knew you were racing a woman? Such a gentleman, Cameron." You announce, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

"That's not what I said."

"No, it's what you're implying."

He groans. You're twisting his words. Riling him up in a way that makes him incapable of explaining himself. "Don't be a bitch, Maybank."

Your brother lets out a protest from the insult but you remain unaffected. You heard worse and you learned to take pride in that label.

Rafe exhales a heavy breath, trying to regain his composure. Especially with you. "Listen—"

"JJ." You call, hearing him shuffle from his seat. Rafe glances at the blond, standing obedient and tall behind you, and once he determines your brother isn't about to ambush him, he turns back to you.

"It doesn't have to be much. We can settle for it."

"I don't want to settle. You lost. There's nothing else to be said."

Frustration creases his features, and he snaps. "Do you have no sense of integrity? Is this what it's like for all you Pogues?"

Now you're getting annoyed. "You talk a lot of shit for someone who won't accept defeat. Did daddy see you come home empty-handed and remind you of what a disappointment you are?"

Rafe doesn't respond and you knew you took it too far when his grip around your wrist tightens to a painful exertion of force. You push through the sting, refusing to give him a reaction.

"JJ." You hum in sing-song.

Rafe cuts another look to your brother, his expression unnerved by his inactivity. "Why the fuck do you keep calling out for him? He's not going to help you with this; he's too much of a little bitch."

That's enough.

"Jay." You confirm, swiftly dodging to the right as your brother comes up from behind and shoves Rafe back—hard. He surrenders his grip and Rafe knocks back against a couple stowaway chairs, startling nearby customers.

Rafe recovers and attempts to swing when JJ ducks, grabbing his midsection and tackling him to the ground.

When the brawl reaches a limit (as in you had enough), you grab your brother by the shoulder and haul him off the Kook, forcing him back on his feet. Rafe quickly rises, about to charge forward for another round, when you step in front of JJ.

He stops centimeters from your face, heaving with staggered breaths, anger darkening his expression while his sharp gaze lands on you.

"That's enough." You assert coldly, your skin pricks with charged electricity from the closeness the two of you share. You should step back, but you refuse to be the first one. "You got your little fight. It's time for you to leave."

His voice is low. "I'm not done with you."

"It doesn't matter." You declare, moderating your apathy. But when you tip your head to meet Rafe's awaiting stare, you falter slightly. "Leave before you make a bigger fool of yourself."

Rafe glances around the diner, at the terrified group of customers watching the commotion from the back, and knew it wasn't in his best interest to continue his behavior. Not in public anyways. Even if he still needs to talk to you, this isn't going to be the place to settle.

Rafe steps back.

"This ain't over, Maybank." He huffs, and this time, it isn't referred to your brother in scorn. It's you.

You wave it off, watching his figure disappear out of the exit.

When you turn back to your brother, you hold your fist out in camaraderie. JJ bumps his roughened knuckles against yours.

"You gonna explain now?" He asks, pulling a couple of chairs back on their hind legs. "Or did I just get into a fight with Rafe Cameron over some petty shit?"

You scoff at his melodramatics. "Don't you always?"

Eventually, you settle down and reveal to JJ what happened during the race, detailing everything from top to bottom. When you conclude, your brother reminds you of Rafe's closing remarks but you brush off the threat as an all-talk, no-action situation.

That appears to bite you in the ass the following weekend.

JJ decided to enter another race, with the money you sponsored to help upgrade his bike, and he made sure not to smoke anything the day of. Since you had an early shift, you decided to swing by after work to watch.

The track is different from the last. It's an open arena, barren of any trees and moss, stripped down to a dusty, dirt path with mountains of solid soil sectioned off at different areas. The only addition, made by the organizer, were heavy floodlights that marked the circuit, illuminating the way for drivers.

While you're paying a small viewing fee at the entrance, Rafe notices you. He should be running through his final inspection for his bike, but his eyes stray to check you out: from the fabric of your miniskirt that barely covers your ass to your top that leaves little to the imagination. The only consolation to the entire outfit is your racer jacket. If it wasn't there, he'd bet all the guys here would be giving you an eyeful.

He didn't need that.

Feeling the heat of a stare, you twist your head in search of the source before connecting your gaze with Rafe. It's been a couple of days, and you've since cooled off from your last interaction. Enough where you merely raise a brow in his direction, and he juts out his chin in greeting.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the little flutter in your stomach. It's such a fuckboy move and you're falling for it.

The race begins with the blow of a whistle. Your eyes follow your brother's bike, the blue-and-red motorcycle decorated with an assortment of stickers and scratches, zooms across the path by tucking into his vehicle, reducing his air resistance.

You gawk. He actually listens to you for once.

Engrossed by JJ utilizing your techniques, you didn't even notice Rafe trailing dangerously close behind. Despite having good openings to pass, Rafe forfeits them for a chance to cause trouble, roughly slamming into JJ's taillight.

The viewing crowd releases a gasp, reacting to the aggression played out on the course. You knew the organizer wasn't going to do anything about it—if anything, it ups the stakes and increases the entertainment value—so you could only hope JJ takes the time to play it smart and move out of the line of danger.

He doesn't.

He reacts—driving the side of his bike against Rafe's.

"Fuck." You mumble, leaning against the barbed fence that separates the audience from the race. The prickly edges weathered down to a dull touch and you thread your fingers through the gaps.

Rafe draws back to add distance and falls a few seconds behind JJ. You can only assume it's to regain his control over his engine power and you were proven correct when Rafe takes the last shot and revs against the back-half of JJ's bike.

It knocks him over.

The audience lets out a startled shock as you cling onto the fence, digging your palms painfully into the spikes. JJ doesn't move, his body and bike rolled out on the ground while the rest of the racers maneuvers around.

No one is going to help. He has to do it himself.

"Come on, JJ." You mumble with a bated breath. "Get up."

As if he could hear you, he wills himself off the ground and rises to his feet. A sigh of relief escapes you when JJ goes to retrieve his abandoned bike and hops back on to continue the race.

But you already knew the results.

By the time everyone crosses the finish line, you march down the racing course, heading straight for the arrogant Kook leaning against his bike. A satisfied smirk plays across his face when he spots your incoming figure.

You shove at his chest. "What the hell was that?"

Rafe feigns nonchalance. "That was me finishing shit you started."

You recognize your words being used against you. It's aggravating. You can handle it when it comes to you, and you alone, but when he puts your little brother in danger, he crosses a line.

"You son of a bitch—" You're about to lunge forward but JJ quickly grabs your waist and holds you back. You stare daggers in Rafe's direction.

He remains unaffected by your emotional outburst. Rafe can't help but revel in the fire behind your eyes, the anger coursing through you; no longer able to dismiss him with your icy demeanor.

Stepping closer to you, Rafe shoves his hands into his pockets. "Let me tell you something, Maybank. That's gonna be the least of your worries. I can always do worse."

Your jaw tightens. "Goddammit, Rafe. You're rich; what the fuck do you need the money for?"

"I never said anything about the money. I said I want a rematch."

You're heaving. Adrenaline pulsing through your veins. You haven't been this riled up since, well, the last time you spoke to him. He always manages to push your buttons, make your heart race. Even if you try to maintain your cool, Rafe always breaks it.

JJ's mumbling something in your ear, informing you he's fine, that there's barely any damage to him and the bike, but you know that's not the issue. You know he'll bounce back, he always does.

This is a whole separate conversation.

Once you calm, JJ releases you.

You consider every possible scenario. You couldn't ask JJ to stop racing, it's his pride and joy, and you don't want Rafe to hold that power over you. But, god, is that man an irritating piece of work.

Rafe watches as you mull over the finer details, your brain working overtime to produce a move. It's not going to work. Not when he has a chance.

"Come on, Maybank." Rafe challenges with a smug look, knowing he has you where he wants. "You scared?"

You scoff, refusing to stand down. "That's cute. Next thing you're gonna do is goad me into thinking I won't win against you when we both know that's not true." You scowl. The corner of Rafe's lips curves into amusement. "Stop it."

"I'm just waitin' for you to give me an answer."

He knows exactly what you were referring to but Rafe refuses to give you the satisfaction of acknowledgement. You purses your lips together. His eyes flick down to them.

"What do I get?"

The fact you're negotiating means you're willing. "What do you want?"

Your eyes glaze over to his motorcycle. "Your bike."

Without hesitation, Rafe agrees. "Deal."

"And you leave JJ alone."

He rolls his eyes at the add-on clause. "Fine, whatever."

You suck on the inside of your cheek, contemplating the meaning behind all of this. What does Rafe want from you? Why is he so determined to get this rematch? Is it pride, ego? Or something else?

It's a puzzle you can't seem to solve.

Rafe clicks his tongue, drawing you back to reality. "Not gonna ask me what I get when I win?"

You merely shrug.

Rafe scoffs and approaches you, stopping a breath away. He gives you an opening to step back, to back down, but you refuse—as he predicted. His dark blue eyes meet yours and you smell the faint scent of his cologne waft in your direction. "I get one night with you."

JJ's behind you, firmly shaking his head, refusing the deal on your behalf. "No fucking—"

"Shut it, JJ." You silence your brother before turning back to Rafe with veiled curiosity. "Why?"

He shrugs, not revealing anything, mimicking your mannerisms in a way that adds onto the allure. Fuck, now you have to take it.

"Fine," you nod, taking JJ's helmet from him and exchanging it for your jacket. A couple of wolf whistles are heard around the course, especially from the other male racers watching the interaction, but your attention is set dead on Rafe.

His eyes trail over your body, unabashedly taking you in. When Rafe hears the catcalls aimed at you, his expression sharpens, and he rubs his jaw with the palm of his hand.

"You can keep it on."

"Why? Can't handle a little skin?"

You hop on JJ's bike without another word and Rafe shakes his head at your comment, the ghost of a smile plays on his lips. As you admire the new screen your brother installed at the front of the motorcycle, which tracks your progress, a headset piece invades your vision.

"Don't forget this." JJ reluctantly offers.

You turn over to Rafe, who's since gotten on his own vehicle, adjusting the strap of his helmet under his chin. "Should I use this or am I gonna hear you bitching in my ear again?"

Rafe shouldn't tolerate the amount of disrespect you're giving him right now, especially in public, but he's too worked up with the adrenaline from you accepting his deal. He doesn't worry too much, knowing he can always punish you later.

Instead, he flips you off, and you smirk, putting on the headset.

When you pull up to the starting line, a thin strip etched across the dirt, you rock against JJ's bike to find your position. Rafe slides into the slot next to you.

"Ready, Maybank?" Rafe asks over the static channel. "You can talk. You don't have to pretend to be mute now."

"Maybe I wasn't pretending." You declare, cutting a glance over him through your helmet. "Maybe I don't like talking to you."

With a small smile concealed under his headgear, Rafe counts down. You flip down your visor, and when he arrives at one, you bolt off.

You use your tricks; Rafe takes the edge. You discovered the improvements JJ made to the bike allows you to switch lanes with fluidity, granting you the power to swerve left-to-right with little effort.

This is both good and bad because while you can maneuver better with a slight tilt of your handlebar, the dirt path of the circuit is something you're not used to. It's JJ's forte. The ground has less traction, especially with the wheels JJ owns, which means you have to be more cautious with your leans.

Rafe uses the cut of the edge to propel forward, but once you angle your bike to a safe degree, tucking in, it allows you to bypass him.

You exhale a deep breath. It felt like you almost tipped over.

"You got some good moves." Rafe compliments, just as you sprint past him.

A smile curls on your lips. "You could do better."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he twists his throttle to increase his acceleration.

Rafe tries to mimic your techniques, tilting his bike, but it leans a lot more than he intended, and he has to quickly pull back to flat surface. You notice the earnest attempt from the corner of your peripheral vision.

"You good?" You ask, sparing a glance over your shoulders as you make a wide turn.

"You worried about me?"

"Never mind."

Rafe chuckles into your headset, saying something you don't pay attention to. You know you could win this, without a doubt. Rafe is a strong rider, with a stronger engine, but he lacks confidence in his moves. He uses mediocre turns to match and, with a larger central gravity mass, it's harder to control his tilts.

The bike would be an honorable prize you can give to JJ. Or, you could use it yourself. You haven't decided.

Yet, the what-ifs hang thick in the air. You can't help but wonder why Rafe wants to spend the night with you, what drove him to make this deal, and what could happen in the quiet, intimate space shared between the two of you.

If you win, you'll never find out.

To you, your curiosity outweighs any materialistic possession.

Rafe uses a narrow opening to circumvent you, speeding ahead with the obnoxious roar of his engine. By the time you catch up, he made it across the finish line.

You park, throwing down the kickstand as you pull off your helmet and headpiece.

"Don't get too cocky." You say to Rafe, who got off his bike to approach you.

"I'm not. You will, though."

You tilt your head at him. "Still talking a big game? Remember the last time you tried that?"

Rafe scoffs but he can never say he's not entertained by you. Intrigued by you. It's one of the reasons why he wanted this bet so badly. His hand circles your wrist, gently tugging you along. "Let's go."

You don't move. "Don't you have to collect your prize?"

"I am."

Butterflies spread through your stomach at the implication, even if it's possession. You say nothing in response, sucking on the inside of your cheeks, before glancing over to JJ.

"I gotta get my jacket first," you say, hauling yourself over the seat, noticing your skirt has hitched up over your hips. Before Rafe receives a free show, you tug it down over your ass and stroll over to your brother, taking your jacket in exchange for his keys. A silent interaction shared between the two of you, knowing what's about to happen next.

“He has a faster bike.” You explain simply.

When you're about to follow Rafe over to his motorcycle, JJ catches your bicep.

"Don't fuck him."

Despite being younger, JJ still reserves a sliver of protectiveness over you. At times, it can be irritating but you knew it came from a good place in his heart. So much so, you couldn't lie.

You merely shrug.

Arriving at the familiar red bike, Rafe extends his helmet for you. You doubt he kept a spare, so since there's only one, you push it back into his chest. "You're driving. You'll need it."

You always push back on him for everything. A tick of frustration flashes through his expression. "Don't be difficult and take the fucking helmet, Maybank."

You truly despise that label. Snatching the helmet from his hands, once you adjust the strap under your chin, you wordlessly mount over the seat and wrap your arms over Rafe's waist, squeezing tightly as a form of rebellion.

When you arrive at Tannyhill, you hop off first and Rafe leads you into the empty estate. He informs you that his parents and sisters are gone for the night and he has it all to himself.

"Is that supposed to impress me?" You ask, raising a brow.

He shakes his head, dropping his keys on the designated bowl. "No, it's to let you know you can be as loud as you want."

You flush at the crude suggestion, but you don't let him see. Instead, you ascend the flight of stairs to reach his bedroom and, when you slip through the cracked door, it hits you how long it's been since you were last here.

Everything remains the same but there's an air of difference. An edge you can't put your finger on. You decide to separate yourself from the memory, taking a seat on his desk.

When Rafe walks in afterwards, he scoffs upon noticing the seat you've chosen. "You know there's a bed right there."

You shake your head, crossing your legs while you shimmer out of your jacket. The room is oddly hot. "No thanks. Don't want you to get any ideas."

"Yeah?" Rafe pulls out the desk chair from underneath you, flips it around, and takes a seat on it backwards, his legs straddling the backrest. "What ideas would those be?"

"You tell me, Cameron." You say, taking a hit from your dab pen, needing something in your system to loosen you up and calm your nerves. "What am I doing here?"

He shrugs, keeping you in the dark a little longer. It's driving you crazy, but your skin prickles with anticipation, eager to see how it unfolds.

"I expected more." You admit, leaning back against the back wall, uncrossing your legs. Rafe catches the sight of your panties underneath your skirt and he swallows hard. "I thought this would be more satisfying."

He ignores your comment. "You're doing that on purpose."

"Doing what?" You glance down, following his line of vision before a smirk rises to your lips. "Oh, that?" You spread your legs further apart, inviting the space, and causing Rafe to inhale a sharp breath. You snap a finger in front of his face, forcing his gaze up to yours. "Eyes up here, Cameron."

His jaw flexes and you notice the small tent in his pants.

"Stop teasing me."

"I'm not doing anything." You raise your hands in defense, the motion exposes your cleavage a little more. This time, it's intentional. "I'm here because I lost a bet."

Rafe stares at you, needing some sort of a distraction. With your presence in his bedroom, he can't help but remember the last time you were here. When he was inside you and how perfectly your cunt wrapped around him; he'll never admit he's been fisting himself to that image. You splayed out across his mattress. The sounds of your needy moans.

Fuck, he wants you.

And you knew that too.

"Where'd you learn to race like that?"

You chuckle to yourself, taking another hit, the weed slowly taking effect and making you feel all woozy. "You took me here to ask for some tips?"

Rafe lets out a low groan. "Can you be serious for once, Maybank?"

"Can you be honest?" You remark, closing your legs and leaning forward on the desk. "Why did you bring me here?"

Rafe stands from his seat, kicking the chair aside. He closes the distance between you, tucking a hand under your chin to meet his gaze. His voice is low. "What do you think?"

You hum in consideration, blowing out a small ball of smoke from your pen. It bursts upon his face. "I think you have terrible negotiation skills."

"Wrong." His free hand slides up your exposed thigh, tracing absent circles on the inside of your legs. "Try again."

You swallow hard, his gaze piercing and demanding. You keep your voice steady as you come up with the next excuse. "You're terribly lonely at night."

Rafe scoffs, amusement ticking at his features. His hand closes in on your aching core, brushing a knuckle against your dampened panties in a way that causes a small whimper to escape you. "I think we both know what I want." He murmurs. His lips graze against the open curve of your neck, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin. "Do you remember the last time?"

You pretend to rack your brain for the distant memory, but you knew exactly what he was referring to. A shuddered breath leaves you as Rafe plants a phantom kiss against your neck, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

You need to remain in control.

"Oh, yeah. It's been a while." You muse, your voice softer than intended. "I almost forgot. How big is your dick again?"

Rafe scoffs again. He knows you're messing with him, pulling at any strings to strike a blow to his ego, but he decides to entertain you. His hand departs from between your thighs to catch your free hand on the desk, guiding it up your exposed stomach before stopping just below your naval.

"Here."

Warmth flushes your entire body and the ache between your legs is getting harder to subdue. You are close to admitting defeat but you can't let him win. You're enjoying this little game too much.

"Hm," you lower your hand down your belly, his hand sliding along. "I remember it being here."

"You're wrong again." He shakes his head with a tsk. "We have to do something about that memory of yours."

"Yeah?" You tilt your head up, realizing how close Rafe's face is to yours. "Maybe I need a visual reminder."

Rafe smirks. "If you want to see me naked, Maybank, all you gotta do is ask."

He's giving you an opening.

"Okay."

His brows knit together. "Okay, what?"

"Take off your pants. I don't have all day."

Rafe laughs. He can't believe he's with someone like you right now; blunt, rebellious and thrives on the adrenaline of playing mind games. His type usually follows along the line of submissive, willing to do whatever he likes, whenever he wants, but he loves this cat-and-mouse game he has with you.

And only you. 

He unbuckles his belt and slides down his pants and boxers, his cock springing free. "Enough?"

"No." You shake your head immediately, salivating at the sight of his perfect cock. Truly, it's been a while and you cannot believe you've been missing out. "I forgot I'm more of a hands-on learner."

Spitting in your hand, you lean forward and wrap your manicured fingers around the base of his length. Rafe lets out a low groan as you stroke him, feeling all the thick veins underneath your palm, pumping him with increasing speed.

You feel good. Too good. The way you're touching him, he could come right there. His dick twitches beneath your hand and Rafe lets out a little shudder, squeezing his eyes shut. When you lower down to cup his balls, a bit of precum spills at the tip. “Fuck, baby.” 

You could no longer handle it.

You draw back, leaving the emptiness of your pressure and his eyes snap open. Brows drawn together in confusion. "What happened?"

"Back up." You slide off the desk, placing your hand on his chest, pushing him back. Each step of yours is met with a backward step of his. When he falls onto the bed with a soft thump, you haul him into a sitting position.

Before Rafe gets a chance to question, you push your panties to the side and sink down on his cock.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, feeling the sheer size of him stretch you apart. Rafe releases a thick groan when you straddle him, the new angle allows him to push in deeper, and your walls wrap around him with a familiar pressure. Just like last time. "God, I feel so full."

He grins. His hand lowers between you and presses down on your lower stomach, feeling his bulge. You whimper, your head spinning. "Don't do that."

"Just remindin' you."

You're tight is what Rafe realizes. He doesn't know if he's imagining it or because the last time you hooked up felt like a dream but it almost feels as if no time has passed. "Do you keep this pussy tight for me, Maybank?"

"God, Cameron, do you think I revolve my entire life around you?" You ask, throwing your arms over his shoulders, connecting your gaze with his. "Do you think I sit around waiting for you?"

His answer is immediate. "You should."

You scoff, looking away. The loss of engagement irks Rafe, so he does it again, pressing down on your lower stomach, causing his bulge to press against your sensitive walls and you arch into him in response.

Your breath shudders. "I told you not to do that."

"I guess we both don't listen to each other."

It's true. You're always arguing, bickering, doing something that rivals one another. It shouldn't work. You shouldn't be here to begin with, but the consolation has always been physical. The sex is just so much better.

Rafe's breathing is heavy, his body aches for some friction. "Are you going to move?"

You bite your bottom lip, contemplating your options, before shaking your head.

His jaw ticks. "What are you doing, then?"

"Being difficult."

Rafe recognizes his words coming from your pretty mouth and, judging from the tone, he realizes it's not meant to be a good thing. You look at him with a raised brow, challenging him to speak. And he's not one to back down.

"You are difficult."

You huff in indignation, expecting a different outcome, especially when you have his dick in a vice grip. You decide to raise yourself off his cock, inch by inch, as punishment. But Rafe's hands are quick to grab your hips, slamming you back down with a moan. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

The sudden motion leaves you lightheaded. You try to keep it together. "Thought I was too difficult for you."

"Stop putting words in my mouth." Rafe commands, frustration flashes through his handsome features. He can play your games but when it comes to an unreasonable attitude, that's when he has enough. "Why'd I put this much fucking effort to get you here if I didn't fucking want you?"

You turn away again but Rafe grabs your face. "Look at me when I talk to you."

You try to will your defiance but something in his expression makes you falter. Step back. His fingers dig into your cheeks, not to a painful degree, but as an act of dominance. "You think I forgot about all the times you mouthed me in public?" He scowls. "At the diner? The race course? You think I'm gonna let that shit slide?"

You gulp, your body flames at the way he's addressing you. The way he's handling you. You don't refute in opposition, allowing him to hold control. "Move."

You roll your hips on command, guided by his hand on your hips, and the pleasure is instantaneous. Rafe releases a moan, dropping his hand from your face to steady your movements, while you tip your head back to feel how good his cock is inside you.

"Come on, Maybank, go faster." Rafe instructs and you nod with compliance, quickening your speed. Your hands clap around his shoulders for stability. "That's my fucking girl."

While you rock against him, Rafe plants wet kisses against your open neck, sucking on the sensitive skin in a way that draws out your needy moans. The moans he's been thinking about ever since he saw you at the first race. His hand slides down between you, rubbing your swollen nub with his thumb.

"Oh, fuck, Rafe, fuck," you whimper, arching into his hand when Rafe finally captures your lips and swallows your little sounds with a drawn-out kiss. His tongue swipes over your tender bottom lip, making your head spin.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," he groans, as you rise closer to your peak. "I'm close, I'm so fucking close."

You pull yourself off.

It was with reluctance, but you knew what you needed to do. Your pussy is aching, dripping, but the look on Rafe's face almost made up for it. The loss of contact infuriates him, and as he's about to grab your arm and drag you back, you shake your head. "Take it off."

You're referring to his shirt. "Are you fucking serious right now?"

"Take it off or you're not coming."

Rafe shakes his head. "You first."

You don't protest, knowing it'll slow down the process and you're throbbing too much to let that happen. Your fingers hook under your top before pulling it over your head, exposing your perky tits. Rafe's eyes follow your movements as you remove your skirt and panties next.

Rafe easily tugs his shirt off his body, throwing it across the room, before impatiently leaning forward to grab your wrist—pulling you right back to him.

You push him onto his back. Rafe obliges as you crawl over him, your legs straddling either side of his torso, your wetness dripping all over his chest. He doesn't understand this new position, but before he gets a chance to ask, you lower yourself to kiss him.

Your hand draws up to cup his jaw, nails digging into his cheeks as you leave bruising and demanding kisses against his swollen lips. When you pull back for air, Rafe's eyes are hungry, desperately needing more.

Your lips against the shell of his ear, you ask. "Do you wanna taste me?"

He nods.

"Stick out your tongue."

Rafe does as he's told and you spit in his mouth, the string of saliva connecting you to him. "Don't swallow." You declare, rising to your knees as you hover over his head, your dripping cunt just centimeters from his face.

You try to go slow, descending down, but Rafe grows impatient and hooks his arms over your thighs, pulling you down on his face.

"Shit," you moan out as Rafe laps over your slit, sucking on your swollen nub like a starved man. Your legs tremble at the act, holding onto his headboard. "Oh, fuck, Rafe, that feels so fucking good."

Rafe Cameron can eat pussy, and you struggle to hold yourself together as you shake under the pressure he's giving you. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you're so close to coming, and Rafe recognizes that. Before you can reach your peak—and just like you did to him—he pushes you off and flips you over.

The change in position surprises you, your profile digging into the mattress while your wrists are pinned behind your back. Your thighs shaking, your cunt needy.

"Ass up." He commands, as you will your knees to follow orders, lifting your cheeks in the air. His hand admires the firm curve of your ass, before his fingers finds your sensitive and still-aching clit, teasing you with a pinch that causes you to flinch out of his touch.

You let out a pathetic whine. 

"Do you wanna come, baby?" He taunts, his cock is red and swollen, aching for some release. Your entrance is dripping and welcoming, but he refrains from doing anything until he gets some words out of you.

"Yes, yes, please."

He fucking loves that word.

Rafe lines his slick cock against your wet folds before pushing in with a hard thrust. You let out a little yelp at the intrusion, clenching around him in a way that leaves him groaning at the sensation.

He thrusts in hard and fast, pacing himself to pump out all the desperation he needed for the past hour. You moan and whimper against his sheets, slobbering at how rough he's going into you. The room echoes with the sound of skin-on-skin, the squelching of your wetness from the continuous pumps.

"You feel so fucking good, Maybank," Rafe grunts, his hips snapping against yours, skin bruising. "This is why I wanted a rematch with you. I couldn't stop thinking about this fucking pussy."

You warm at the confession. With a labored breath, you proclaim. "Fill me up, Rafe. Make me feel like it's worth my time."

He scoffs, shaking his head as beads of sweat form against his brows. "Such a fucking slut."

"Yes,” you moan, “now use me like one."

His pace is brutal, his cock sliding in-and-out of you, while you can do nothing but moan and claw behind bounded wrists. His free hand holds down your hips, keeping you still as Rafe pushes you towards your climax.

The familiar tightness coils inside of you, and you mumble your upcoming release to him, which does nothing but increase his ferocity.

You come with a scream, his name rolling off your tongue like a god. Rafe continues to abuse your sopping cunt, using you until he finishes inside, his hot cum spurting between your walls, filling you up as promised. 

When he releases your reddened wrists and pulls out, you immediately slump against the wrinkled sheets, fucked out. Rafe drops to the space next to you with heavy breaths.

You take a minute to gather yourself. Your legs are shaky and sore, his cum leaking out of you, and your eyes flutter close from exhaustion.

When you finally will yourself to get up, on wobbly knees, you move around to find your things. Once you spot your underwear, you slide your panties over your hips, searching with more confidence for the rest of your clothes.

"Maybank, where are you going?" Rafe props himself by the elbows, watching as you spare a glance over your shoulders.

"I'm going home." You say simply. "You got what you wanted."

"I said the night." 

You stop, facing him. "I assumed that was just sex talk."

“Yeah, but,” fuck, Rafe rubs under his jaw, unable to explain himself once again with you standing there, naked, waiting for him to answer. “I meant the night too.” 

You raise your brow at him. "You want me to stay the night, for real?"

His jaw clenches. "Is that not what I just said?"

"Why?"

Rafe shrugs. He doesn't answer. He doesn't know if he even has an answer for it. All he knows is that he didn't work that fucking hard to win a race just for you to leave after sex. Not again.

"Cause you lost a bet."

You roll your eyes but abandon your search for your clothes. They’ll turn up eventually. You saunter over, straddling his lap as your hands cup the underside of his jaw. You tilt his head, forcing his gaze to meet yours. 

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with me.” You tease. Rafe rolls his eyes. 

"With that attitude, it's hard to."

You feel a bit more secure. "Good. I like our fights a little too much to lose them."

"Yeah?" His arm wraps around your waist, "does it get you hot and bothered?"

"Yeah, actually," you tilt your head, brushing your thumb against his jawline, his breathing slightly hitch under your touch. "One of my favorite parts of our interactions."

"Better than the sex?"

"Nothing's better than the sex."

You end up staying the night, falling asleep in Rafe’s arms as he cuddles you. That was a surprise. By morning, you took the opportunity to use his ensuite, showering and cleaning yourself up. When you finished your routine, Rafe’s awake and offers to drive you home. 

It’s still early when you arrive back at the Maybank house, so you didn’t expect anyone to be up. Luke was knocked out on the living room couch, nursing bottles of beer, and JJ’s bike was nowhere to be seen. You assumed he spent the night at the Chateau but when you slipped through your bedroom, you were surprised to discover your little brother camping out on the middle of the floor. 

He wakes up when the door creaks.

"You're back."

“Yeah.” You hum noncommittally, shrugging off your jacket and hanging on the back of your closet. “What are you doing in my room?” 

You knew the answer was because he was waiting for you to arrive home safely. But it went unspoken. JJ shrugs, rising to his feet as he announces he had something important to share with you. 

“I checked the monitor on my bike.” He begins, as you cross your arms over your chest. “And it was… interesting.” 

“How so?”

“Well, it tracked your race with Rafe.” JJ explains, which you knew already. “But it recorded you going under the bike’s speed limit. Like, you weren’t maximizing your accelerations.” 

You press your lips together, saying nothing. 

“Did you let him win?” 

Your eyes connect with JJ’s blue ones, and he discovers the answer without you offering your words. “Why?” 

Then, it finally hits him. 

“You fucked him, didn’t you?” 

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#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader #obx smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #obx #rafe cameron x female reader #outer banks

[calisources]

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All these quotes are taken from different works of fiction and depict sensual, sexual tension between two people in different scenarios. There are some that are suggestive while others are more detail so this meme is nsft and usft, please tag accordingly. Mentions of jealousy, possessiveness, sex, fantasies are all here. Change pronouns, names, locations as you see fit.

I knew the first moment I saw him that it was going to be raw, it was going to be ugly, and I was going to enjoy every damn minute of it.

You're still looking.

You make it hard to look away.

I'm over here keeping my hands and memories to myself because you asked me to, that’s not fair.

If you'd just man up and admit there's something between us, I would strip down to my skin so you could see every single inch of me.

How long are you going to make me wait?

How awfully presumptuous of you to think I'd let you.

You missed my arrogance almost as much as I missed your impudence, little one.

You said not to fall for you. Did you change your mind?

We both needed to blow off some steam, and we did, right?

They say the colour of a lady’s lips is an exact match to another region on the body?

You're too soft.

Can we go back to making out now?

You sound jealous.

Then tell me this is what you truly want. Swear you want this more than anything else and I'll never mention it again.

If you want me to play the bawd, at least give me the benefit of your advice.

Tell me how it's done. Do you think she'd like it if I came to her like this, if I looked deeply in to her eyes?

And then like this? Is this how I ought to seduce her?

You're wet, aren't you?

You drove me mad.

She asked me not to be gentle with her, either,I would have been gentle with you, though.

I would have had you moaning my name throughout it all. And I would have taken a very, very long time, Feyre.

I'm all yours to look at, you know.

You need to let me go, darling, before we start something I intend to finish.

Feel free to touch, darling. It's all yours.

. . .I hate you.

Say it again.

Grind it. Nice and fine.

I gave him a few smiles and he handed over a family heirloom. I bet he'd give me the keys to his territory if I showed up wearing those undergarments.

Why shouldn't I? You seem to have difficulty not staring at me day and night.

Am I supposed to deny, that I find you attractive?

Is that a challenge, Feyre?

Do you think it's fair that you have seen every inch of me, and I have seen none of you?

Move with me now.

Touch me anywhere you please.

I want you to make love to me.

Do you know what that truly means?

You do know? You know that I will be inside you and that I will move inside you, until we are both mad from pleasure?

I want you inside me.

You have three minutes to get ready now.

I did dream about you. I didn’t want to, but I did.

What was I doing in your dreams?

Someone is watching us through the window.

All the more reason to put on a good show.

You're not in a position to make demands.

The best things are found in the most secret places.

And you are a beautiful, sexy temptress who is about to be fucked by a man who wants her so desperately he's willing to do anything to have her.

When I'm with a woman, it's not me doing the begging.

You're rubbing yourself all over me. What did you think was going to happen?

I thought you were all about self-control.

I remember how powerful those thighs are.

You are more beautiful than I imagined.

And your skin... Christ, it shimmers like gold.

I'm naked underneath.

Tell me----did it get you off knowing I was watching?

I want to take you under the moonlight.

Please, don’t stop.

Oh, so I shouldn’t? That would be cruel of me, wouldn’t it?

I am the cruelest man you will ever meet, but, I will make you feel so good, you will not care.

I’ve never been with a man before.

You do bad things to me, Carrie. Very bad things.

And you, Miss, are no lady.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. ) #rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #usft tw #usft meme #smut meme #suggestive tw

[fangsandfeels]

The vagueness of Astarion sleeping mechanics drives me mad sometimes

So, the game says that elves don't sleep - to the point where it's ironically stated that the only way for them to experience sleeping is to either drink a potion of Angelic Slumber or "get hit really hard with a chair".

Instead, they enter a semi-aware meditative state (Revery) where they experience memories from their past lives (usually most positive and emotional parts). Or they just sorting through their current memories.

Now, we've seen Astarion meditating if his way of lying on a bedroll is anything to go by. He is also immune to sleeping spells. We could also see him sleeping (in a Durge run). I know that devs technically recycle the same sleeping pose for all romanced companions, but still. Also, Astarion has nightmares, which is not typical for elves.

Of course, when I was going through the lore, I scratched the surface, but from what I understood, Revery is supposed to be a controlled state, and nightmares aren't exactly controlled.

But, I've found a very interesting bit that (so far) is still considered part of the official canon:

Elves can sleep and dream just like any human, but almost all surface elves avoid doing so. Dreams, as humans know them, are strange and confusing to elves. Unlike the actual memories of one’s primal soul, present life, or past lives, dreams are uncontrolled products of the subconscious, and perhaps the subconscious minds of those past lives or primal souls as well. An elf who dreams must always wonder whose mind these thoughts first arose from, and why. Priests of Sehanine Moonbow are an exception: they sleep and dream to receive signs from their god, and elves consult such priests to interpret their own dreams."

From: Mordenkainrn's Tome Of Foes, Chapter 2: Elves

And not only does this little bit explain a lot, but it also provides some food for your fic writing purposes.

Now, I'm entering the headcanon territory, so be warned.

Astarion's access to Revery got horribly fucked up after he had been Turned. Not only does he no longer have access to his previous lives since he is technically dead and plucked from the cycle, but he also can't even have his happy or good memories before he became a spawn. Even if they are still there, somewhere in the memory palace, getting to them requires going through the catalog of traumatic and painful memories he acquired after being enslaved by Cazador. It's like running through a burning house trying to rescue your family photo - and the hall gets longer each time. So, entering a trance means confronting the worst memories of his life over and over because there is nothing else there.

Due to this Astarion may resort to sleeping, which elves don't usually do. Elves don't like dreams because dreams are subconscious, and they can't be controlled, which scares them. For Astarion, however, it means there is a chance of him subconsciously dreaming of something nice or just being blissfully empty. However, it doesn't safeguard him from nightmares which (because they are the product of his unconsciousness) get even more twisted than simple memories.

Additionally, there can be a possibility that after becoming a spawn he got cut off from meditation and trances completely, relying on sleeping only: at least, the cut spawn epilogue by Withers mentions how while Astarion needs to sleep again, he doesn't sleep alone. While we don't know what that means exactly (and whether it will ever be implemented in the game), I assume that the tadpole gave him the ability to meditate back, but it was a small improvement because his memory headspace no longer holds happy memories capable of offering solace or refuge.

So, my personal headcanon is that he switches between meditating and sleeping depending on how aware he needs to be, and whatever option feels less torturous at the moment.

For instance, in his Origin run, when he remembers the moment of Cazador carving scars into him, he is in a trance. Which is why the memory is so horribly vivid, as if he is reliving it anew.

However, when he has a nightmare where Cazador finds him, he is sleeping and experiencing a memory affected by his subconsciousness. Which is why he jolts himself awake and desperate to know the limits of his freedom.

So, yes, the man literally can't catch a break.

On a happier note (and for your hurt/comfort fanfiction purposes), once Astarion starts traveling with Tav and the group, his memory bank gets updated with memories that are actually fun and nice, so he has something to linger upon when he is meditating. Sleeping gradually becomes a bit more pleasant experience because his subconsciousness got more material to work with, so the quality of his non-controlled dreams has to gradually improve.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion brainrot #dnd elves are strange #feel free to correct me if i goofed up #because it's quite likely i goofed up

[katsu28]

i want you here

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you finally gather the courage to ask your boyfriend if he'll move in with you (3k)

a/n: steve girlies i have returned!!! been straying away from my roots lately but i’ll always come back to my favorite guy <3

Steve was on the couch when you came home, only looking up from the cooking show he was watching when he heard the key jingling in the door. 

He’d been camped out at your place for hours now, having taken the morning shift at Family Video today which meant he got off work early. He’d beelined right here, using the key you’d given him to let himself in and wait until you got home. 

He found himself doing that more often than not these days, preferring to spend his time at your apartment over his own place so he could see you right when you got home. Sometimes it was just what he needed to make his day a little brighter than normal. 

Sure, it was just a ten minute drive from his to yours, but those ten minutes always seemed like forever. 

“Hey sweetheart!” He chirped, muting the program in favor of twisting around in his seat to face you, his arm hooked over the back of the sofa. When you only let out a vague noise in response, his smile turned sympathetic.

He patted the cushion next to him, prompting you to come over and collapse face-first onto the sofa, stretching out your sore muscles with a tired groan. 

Steve’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck immediately, fingers rubbing along your shoulder blades like it was second nature. “Bad day?” 

“Understatement of the century.” 

“Ouch.” 

“Hold me?” 

“Surprised you even had to ask.” He patted his lap a few times and you sat up, curling up with your head on his thigh comfortably. When you were satisfied with your position, you gave a content sigh. “All better now?” 

You nodded, shifting your focus back to his amused smile. “How was your shift? How’s Robin?” 

“Oh y’know, the usual. Scanning, restocking, same thing different day,” He shrugged, hand waving in the air vaguely before coming to settle just above your heart, fingers rounding out absentminded circles against the material of your shirt. His touch radiated warmth through your entire body, making you more at ease than you’d been the entire day since you’d kissed him goodbye this morning. 

Steve always had that kind of effect on you. 

“Robin’s doing good, her and Nance are planning a trip to New York sometime in the summer, asked if we wanna join them. I said I’d ask you tonight, but we can talk about it another day. They’ll understand.” 

“No, it’s okay. Sounds fun, we should go,” You insisted, smiling softly up at him just to see the pink bloom on his cheeks. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’d be completely okay with a vacation.” You must’ve sounded more tired than you meant to, because Steve frowned. 

“They’re really working you hard these days, huh?” 

You shrugged, letting your head loll to the side until your cheek was pressed to the soft blanket covering his lower half. Steve was concerned, you could hear it in his voice clear as day. “S’fine. Means they know I’m reliable, so if a higher position ever opens up maybe they’ll think of me.” 

“As long as you’re not overworking yourself.” 

“I’m okay, Stevie.” 

He didn’t look like he believed you one bit, but he nodded warily, sensing that you just wanted to change the subject. So he did. “Hey, you remember my neighbor, Mrs. Anderson?”

“The one who power walks around the neighborhood every morning?” 

“Yeah, her! She popped into Family Video today, and it turns out that she divorced her son of a bitch husband because he was fooling around with some floozy from his fencing class—had been for months!” He exclaimed, looking like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. You played along, raising a surprised brow at the news, more interested in the way he was telling his story rather than the story itself. 

Call it creepy, but sometimes you just liked to watch your boyfriend talk. 

“And he had the nerve to ask for more than his share of their money because ‘he had to start from scratch’. I mean honestly, if you’re gonna fuck up your marriage, at least have the decency to just walk the fuck away.” He continued, shaking his head with a disgusted grimace. You fought the urge to laugh at his reaction. “Anyways, she’s doing good, she’s got a date tonight with some guy she dated for a bit in high school who reconnected recently and wanted to get a good movie, so I gave her Doctor Zhivago. Seemed kinda fitting—y’know, reuniting lovers and all that.” 

You snorted. “Did you seriously just use the word floozy?” 

“Really? That’s all you got from my story?” 

“I just didn’t know that word still existed.” 

“Were you not listening to me? I might’ve just kickstarted a new relationship! I should see if Keith would let me start up a new service at the store.”

“Service? Like, you recommending movies to customers?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Isn’t that already technically part of your job description?” 

“I mean technically, but who knows, maybe I could get a raise. A few cents, a buck or two, I dunno.” Steve was mumbling now, more so to himself than to you, rubbing a large palm against his cheek in contemplation. 

You inhaled a deep breath through your nose, gearing up to ask Steve if it was okay if you took a quick nap, but one whiff of fresh laundry distracted you. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you squinted up at your boyfriend.

“What?” He asked, looking simultaneously confused and like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Did you—did you do laundry?”

Steve let out a huff of air, shoulders sagging in relief. All traces of annoyance from the former Mr. Anderson and his fencing floozy were long gone. “Yeah, I did. I figured I’d make myself useful for once, get some stuff done around here so you wouldn’t have to when you got home. I hope that’s okay.” 

It was more than okay. Beyond okay, if you were being honest with yourself. 

Steve had been doing that a lot recently, taking care of little things around your apartment while you were away at work. Putting clean dishes away, changing that pesky flickering light in the bathroom that you couldn’t reach, fixing a wobbly table leg. Things that, among others, you’d been too tired to take care of when you got home. 

“Do you wanna move in with me?” You heard yourself asking, shifting yourself into a sitting position, knees pressing against his. 

Steve’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “You want me to—you want me here?” He sounded taken by complete surprise, honey eyes wide as he blinked at you slowly. 

Sure, was your name on the lease, but there were already traces of Steve everywhere in your apartment. 

A collection of his hair products mixed in with your skincare on the bathroom counter, a few mugs with cheesy puns littering your collection in the cabinet. A handful of sweaters of his in the drawers of your dresser that you’d stolen and he’d never taken back. 

His work schedule tacked onto the fridge with a magnet one of the kids had made for him, almost lost within the various notes he’d written you over the years. Chicken scratch and awful doodles on Post-It notes, receipts, Family Video notepads, anything he could get his hands on, then tucked into your pocket, stuck onto the bathroom mirror. Anywhere and everywhere he could, just so you’d smile and think of him. 

You look really pretty today. 

Do you have a bandaid? I think I scraped my knee falling for you. 

Someone call the cops because I think you’ve stolen my heart. 

You wanted more of him. You wanted all of him. 

“Of course I want you here, Steve,” You murmured, rubbing your thumb along the ridges of his knuckles soothingly. “I wanna come home to you at the end of every day and have dinner with you every single night, breakfast every single morning. I want your toothbrush in the cup next to mine, your clothes in the closet, your weird stolen DVDs from Family Video under the TV.” 

Steve’s lips parted like he was about to say something, then closed again before any words could come out. 

Maybe you’d overstepped by asking him to move in. Maybe you’d been entirely misinterpreting where you were in your relationship, and he wasn’t on the same page as you, and that’s why he wasn’t saying anything. 

“D’you think—is that…something you would want?” You asked hopefully, feeling a bit shy now. 

“Yes.” He replied immediately, nodding so quickly his hair flopped over his forehead. “God, yes. Please.” 

Your smile grew unbelievably wide at his enthusiasm. “Really?” 

“Yeah. Yes, really,” He insisted, nodding again. “I’d love nothing more.” 

“Well, it’s settled then. We’re gonna live together.” 

He beamed, and you swore it was like pure sunshine injected straight into your veins. You’d get to see that smile whenever you wanted now. “Holy shit, sweetheart! We’re gonna live together!” 

Steve moved in very soon after that, only weeks between the day you had the conversation and the moment the last box was shoved into the backseat of his car. 

He dusted his hands off on his jeans, slamming the door shut with a sense of finality before making his way over to come stand next to you. 

“You gonna miss this place?” You asked, tilting your head at the looming house in front of you. You’d never tell Steve, but his house always gave you the shivers. It was nice, of course, but it was too nice. Too staged, like everything was just for show, and not the place that made your Steve into the person he was now. 

“Not a chance.” He replied. His arm snaked around your waist, fingers coming to twine through yours in your jacket pocket. “Not when I have you to look forward to everyday for the rest of my life.” 

“That’s so fucking cheesy.” 

Steve leaned more into you, bumping his hip against yours. “What can I say? You bring out the best in me.” 

“Are you excited?” 

“Do you want me to jump for joy and run around the yard to show you how excited I am? ‘Cause I will.” 

“Please don’t.” 

Steve stuck his tongue out at you childishly. “Party pooper.” 

-------

“Dude, I thought you lived here already. You’re over here all the time anyways.” Dustin scoffed, popping a grape into his mouth. The younger boy had agreed to lend a hand in your unpacking endeavors today, though you suspected he was more here for the promise of dinner after everything was said and done. The same could be said for Eddie, who hadn’t shown up yet. 

“You literally came to my house last week to use my pool?”  

“Yeah, but I thought Y/N had just, like, kicked you out for the day. Like you were in the doghouse or something!” Dustin explained, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Steve squinted at him, brow furrowed. “But yeah, congratulations on the new home, welcome, whatever!” 

“Babe, we should change the locks. Gotta keep the local riffraff out.” He whispered loudly, to which Dustin flipped him a playful bird. “Speaking of riffraff, where’s Eddie? I thought he’d be here by now.” 

“Probably still sleeping.” Dustin shrugged, taking a seat on the couch. 

“It’s the middle of the day!” 

“You know him, he’s like a fucking bat. Sleeps all day, stays up all night.” 

“Henderson! Language!” Steve chided, flinging a grape at the boy. It bounced off Dustin’s arm and rolled across the floor, disappearing under the coffee table. You turned your gaze on Steve, raising an expectant eyebrow at him in an expression that he recognized immediately. The grin on his face disappeared and he nodded once. “Sorry. Getting it now.” 

“You’ve got him on a tight leash, I like it.” 

“How do you think I lured him here in the first place?” You hummed, shooting Dustin a cheeky wink. 

Steve made some sort of noise of protest from under the table, quick to insert himself back into the conversation. “Hey, I have my own free will! Lemme tell you, I—ow, shit!” 

“Better watch your language there, Harrington,” Dustin snickered. 

“This is my home now too, I can kick you out anytime I want!” 

“No you can’t! Y/N would never let you, she loves me.” 

Steve reemerged with the offending grape clutched between his fingers, glaring at Dustin. “Fifty bucks says she loves me more.” 

“I’ll take that action!” Both boys turned their attention on you, waiting for you to settle the score.

You shook your head, lips pressing into an unassuming line as you raised your hands in surrender. “I’m not getting involved.”

-------

Dustin proved little help on the unpacking front of things, as did Eddie when he finally made it over, both of them too enamored with rifling through the boxes looking at everything rather than actually taking them out like they were supposed to. Steve wanted to scold them, but you’d convinced him not to with a simple kiss. He was always easy to persuade like that. 

Most of the boxes had been emptied and littered around the main rooms by the time the sun set, so despite your helpers’ very unhelpful demeanor, things had gotten done anyways.

You’d ordered a few pizzas as a thanks, but Eddie had shuffled Dustin right out the door with the excuse of an emergency Hellfire meeting (which he not-so-quietly whispered was a lie, and that he wanted to give “the two lovebirds some alone time”), much to the dismay of the curly headed boy. 

Missing out on free pizza was a top ten betrayal scenario for him. Maybe even a top five, but Eddie had let the door slam behind him before Dustin was able to finish that thought. 

“Meals til we go to the store, I guess?” Steve offered, picking a green pepper off his slice to discard onto your plate. You were sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter, Steve leaning on it across from you with his elbows propped up as he passed you every single one of his peppers and claiming your pepperoni in return. 

“I have food in the fridge, y’know.”

“Oh, right, right. No yeah, I’ve seen it. Leftover takeout and a bag of shredded cheese?” He raised an amused brow, cocking his head. You scowled. “Very self sufficient, babe.” 

“I’ve been meaning to go shopping!” 

“And tomorrow we can. Together. Because we live together now.” 

“Is that something you’re gonna be saying all the time from now on?” 

“Until the end of time, sweetheart.” Fondness dripped from his tone like syrup, nearly giving you a cavity from how sweet he was being towards you. 

He met you in the middle, kissing you happily in the middle of your kitchen like he’d done so many times before. Only this time it felt different, because it was now Steve’s kitchen too. His home. 

-------

You were the first one awake the next morning. That was usually how weekends went when Steve was there—you’d wake up before he did, but you wouldn’t rouse him from his deep slumber. You usually just watched him sleep for a bit, in the least creepy way possible. 

It was just…Steve was so pretty in the mornings, and today was no exception. Sunlight poured through the curtains, washing over his sleeping form in a golden glow that made him look goddamn heaven-sent. 

Sometimes you couldn’t even believe how lucky you were to have the privilege of loving him. 

Steve’s arms were tucked under his pillow, face smushed into it and hair a fluffed up mess, and there might’ve even been a little bit of drool gathered at the corner of his mouth. You thought he was pretty nonetheless. 

You must’ve been staring a little harder than you meant, because Steve inhaled a deep breath, sniffling a few times before blinking awake slowly. He yawned big and loud, flipping over onto his back with a sigh. 

“Well good morning, roomie,” He hummed, voice heavy with sleep. He smiled lazily at you, reaching out to trace a line along your arm, past your elbow, your wrist, all the way down to your hand until his fingers were laced tight with yours. “Y’know, it’s not nice to stare.” 

“That’s your fault for being so easy on the eyes.” 

“Oh yeah? I could say the same for you.” Steve’s grin only grew bigger, even though he probably couldn’t really see you clearly without his glasses on. “Okay, wait. Hold on, hold on, I can’t see you properly. Where’s my—'' He felt around the bedside table blindly for the aforementioned glasses, nearly knocking them to the floor before grabbing them and shoving them onto his face. 

He shook his head, blinked a few more times to get used to the change, then focused back on you. “There you are. Hi, my beautiful roommate.” 

You swiped the pillow out from under Steve’s head, swinging it at him so it thumped against his chest. “Call me your roommate again and I’ll kick you out of my bed.” 

“Jesus, ow—did you not hear the part where I called you beautiful?!” Steve yelped, snatching it out of your hands and jamming it back under himself. “Plus, I think you mean our bed now.” 

“You’ve already slept in it enough times to call it yours too, even if you hadn’t moved in.” You pointed out. Steve sighed loudly. “What?” 

“You’re supposed to say yes, I love you, my favorite person in the world.” 

“I love you, my favorite person in the world.” 

“Well, now it feels like you’re just mocking me.” 

“Maybe I am.”

“That’s rude. Anyways, breakfast? I’ll make one of those fancy egg scramble thingies you like.” Steve was already swinging his legs out of bed before you responded, because he knew you’d say yes. He lifted his arms high over his head, stretching out his stiff muscles with the loudest of groans before letting his hands slap back down into his lap. 

When you didn’t reply, he turned around. “There you go again with the staring! Honestly, if I’d known you’d shamelessly ogle me this much, I would’ve thought twice about moving in, you creeper.” 

“You know you love it,” You sing-songed, aiming a teasing smile over at him. “Now go make me breakfast, roomie!” 

“God, you were right. That does not have a nice ring to it.” 

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot

[darthannie]

thesis statement

Pairing: professor!Jim x f!reader Summary: You accidentally bump into your Professor, Jim, at a sex shop. Word count: 3.3k Warnings: 18+ please for the love of god, age gap (reader is ~25, Jim is ~45), alcohol consumption (a few sips of wine), kissing, praise, soft dom! Jim kinda, fingering, p in v, Jim takes his time, a smidge of cockwarming, idk what else to put here! a/n: There will probably be a part two where they explore their little arrangement a bit more. Maybe it'll turn into something longer. I love Jim sm. I also want him to FUCK you know. We’ll get there, but I was feeling a lil soft. Also hmmm i wonder why Jim was at the sex shop in the first place.

It was around 5 pm on a Sunday and you were really in need of something new. Very in need. Your old toy just wasn’t cutting it anymore. To remedy this it was time for a trip to Deluxxx, your neighborhood sex shop. Your friend, Nadia, knew someone who worked there and you’d go there for all your wants and needs. You strolled in and gave a wave to the person behind the counter. 

“Hey, David! How’s the shop been treating ya?”

They looked around at the empty shop, “Hey! It’s slow but I can’t complain. What are you in for?” 

You sighed, “You remember that last toy I bought?“ 

”No way, does it suck?! It was so expensive.” 

“No, no it’s great! Gets the job done, waterproof, 10 settings-“ 

“So what’s the problem”, they asked.

You gestured in front of yourself with both hands, “It’s just… a little too small?"

They laughed and threw their head back. “Of course. Well lucky for you we got something new in recently that you might like. It’s in the back aisle, bottom shelf.” 

You thanked them and made your way to the back. You crouched down to find the one David was telling you about. It was definitely bigger than the one you had. And thicker. It didn’t have any extra frills but that wasn’t what you were looking for. You snapped a picture and sent it to Nadia with “new bf” as the caption. You let out a little laugh that was more like an exhale as you got up. Nadia has been nagging you about needing a boyfriend and you said you were just going to buy a new one. You were still looking at your phone as you turned to exit the aisle and bumped into someone. The apology on your lips died as you recognized the person in front of you as Jim, your professor and thesis advisor. 

His jaw went slack for a moment and his eyes widened as he recognized you. You were the last person he’d expect to see there but it wasn’t an unwelcome sight. He enjoyed teaching you, not knowing whether it was your interest in the subject or the fact he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He broke eye contact for a moment, scanned your body, took note of the item in your hand, and then met your eyes again. You were suddenly very aware of your surroundings and before anyone could say anything he cleared his throat, said “Excuse me” and walked past you.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive and it was becoming clear why you did not have a boyfriend. You wanted him. This wasn’t a new revelation by any means. Nadia was in the same class as you, and she bugged you about it almost daily. You hadn’t expected him to find you in such a vulnerable position. You collected yourself and walked swiftly to the counter and paid. Jim was long gone. You said your goodbyes to David and you texted Nadia to let her know what happened.

She called you almost immediately and opened by saying, “So you know you gotta fuck him now. Like you have to. You don’t have an option. You MUST”. You laughed. There was absolutely no way Jim wanted you. You let her know as much and she disagreed. 

“There’s no way he doesn’t want you. Come on. All the silent stares in class. Asking you to stay after. Constant emailing about things that have nothing to do with class. I mean who just emails their student a TED talk because they thought of them? All signs point to him wanting you. AND what about that one day where you teased him about not having a ring on his finger, and he just said I’m working on it? You know there was this smile he gave you afterward that I don’t think you caught. You were too busy hiding the blush on your face”

“I know I know.” You relented, “I don’t know, it just seems so far-fetched!” 

You knew that was the logical response but something was telling you Nadia was right. He had to have known that his voice sent a shiver down your spine. That you wanted him to take you right there on the table after class. You had caught him staring during class. Maybe she had a point. You couldn’t help but wonder if he really did want you too. 

Later on in the day, you got into the shower. Scalding hot water hit your back. You couldn’t help but recount the events from earlier. He had lingered, looked at the item in your hand, and raised an eyebrow. You would’ve been embarrassed if he didn’t already feel so familiar. 

Soft music played as you lathered a silky body wash along your body. Your mind started to wander, thinking about what it would be like if it were his hands instead of yours. You rinsed off the soap, running your hands over your arms and breasts all while imagining they were his. You turned off the water, dried off, and headed towards the bag you placed on your small table.

You unpackaged your new toy and went back to the bathroom to clean it. Getting back to bed, you lied down and opened up an incognito tab on your phone. You looked for some porn to watch. Once you found an adequate video, you relaxed and continued to watch. The man in the video touched the woman’s body in all the right places. He laid her down and kissed up her thighs before starting to eat her out. This was enough for you to start teasing yourself with the toy, feeling the weight of it on your clit. Suddenly the video was unnecessary. All you could think about was Jim.

You positioned it just right and started to insert it. You gasped as you felt how it stretched you out. This was what you needed. You paused the video, throwing your phone on the side to focus on the task at hand. You put the rest of it inside you and let yourself adjust to the size. You began to move the toy as you thought of him. You wondered if he felt this good. He had to feel better than this. You got off that night thinking about him and only him. When you finally came down from your high you grabbed some water, cleaned your toy, and got straight to bed. 

You didn’t want what happened yesterday to impact your experience in class so you decided to just go on like nothing happened. 

You headed to the bathroom and began going through the movements of the morning. Before you knew it you were by the building where class was held. A bit further down the sidewalk was Jim walking from the opposite direction. The both of you got to the door at the same time. He didn’t say a thing. He just gave you a polite, awkward smile as he opened the door for you. You returned the smile and walked in. Side by side you walked to the classroom. This time you opened the door for him. You watched as he entered and mentally prepared yourself to take a class. It was just the two of you in the room. You sat at the round table with your laptop in front of you trying your best to seem busy.

He broke the silence, “Did you have a nice weekend?”

You summoned a response, “Yes, actually, I was able to spend some time with myself.”

He quipped back, “Oh, I’m sure you were.” 

Your eyes widened trying to process what he said. He let out a light chuckle as another student arrived. The class was full within the next five minutes. Nadia walked in and looked between you and him. She smirked at you. The air was buzzing for the next two hours. You could cut the tension between you two if you tried hard enough. You asked and answered questions like usual. Each time you spoke he paid extra attention to you. When class ended you began gathering your things slowly, hoping you were the last in the class. Nadia leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Just don’t do it by my seat.” You gave her a light slap on the arm and she laughed. Then, it was just you and him. He approached you and spoke softly. 

“Listen, I apologize if I overstepped a boundary with the joke I made earlier. I thought it would help ease the tension if, I don’t know-“ 

“It’s alright, Professor. We’re both mature adults who can bump into each other at a sex shop and move on with our lives.” You got up ready to leave but he spoke.

“Since when am I Professor?”, he asked. 

You looked at him confused. He clarified, “Since when do you call me Professor? You never call me Professor.”

You cleared your throat, “Well I just thought we should reestablish a professional boundary since the- you know. Keep the personal and the professional separate.”

He looked at you, pensive for a moment. He moved a bit closer to you. “Well, what if we don’t keep it separate?” 

Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening. “Are you serious?”

“Very.” He lowered his voice a bit and moved closer. He ran his hand down your arm.  His mouth was now near your ear. There was no chance someone else was going to hear him, but he whispered anyway. “I think you should come over tonight. If you want to.” 

“Yeah, I want to.” You mentally cursed yourself for caving in so quickly.  

“How’s seven?, he asked.

“Seven’s good.” Your head was spinning. This was happening.

“I’ll also need your number so I can send you the address.” He handed you his phone with a new contact page open. You entered it in, gave him a shy smile, and turned to leave.

He grabbed your wrist before you were able to move away from him. “By the way, leave your new purchase at home. You’re not going to need it.” 

Summoning some courage, you leaned in to kiss him. He didn’t close the gap all the way. “Let’s save it for tonight.”, he said as he pulled away. He gathered his things without looking at you and left. 

When you returned home you threw your stuff down and immediately called Nadia. “I KNEW IT!" she yelled. “I KNEW that’s why you hung back. God, it was so tense between you two.”

“You could tell?” You didn’t think it was that obvious until she chuckled and said that everyone could tell. The rest of the conversation consisted of Nadia giving you a pep talk and making her promise you’d tell her everything.  

As time passed you got more nervous. Around six you received a text from him telling you to wear something comfortable, along with his address. You sent a very quick response and, per his request, put on something comfortable. It would end up on the floor anyway. He didn’t live very far from you, which was lucky. You wondered if this would be a one-time thing. What would class be like now? I graduate soon anyway, you thought. If this all went south you could just forget it happened. You got to his apartment a couple of minutes before 7 and he let you up. When you got to the door you knocked twice and waited.

You’d never seen him so casual and… nervous. “Please, come in! You can put your things wherever you’d like,” he said. 

You looked around at his apartment. You could tell a professor lived there. Bookshelves lined the walls. On the dining table, there was a bottle of wine with two glasses. You put down your bag near the door. You didn’t know what to do with your hands. He noticed your apprehension. 

“Do you like wine? I got a nice Malbec after class today. Thought we could crack open a bottle.” 

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“Nerves?”

“Yeah.”, you confirmed.

“Me too. But, uh, there’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just me.”

He smiled and the tension in your body slipped away. It was replaced by a sense of calm. Jim was letting you into his home, and into his life. You sat down at the table and he removed the cord from the bottle. You watched his hands work, feeling eager to get them on you. But that had to wait, he was about to take his time. He poured you and himself a glass. You sat across from him and took a sip, hoping its effects would be immediate. 

“I’m glad you came. You know, I thought you’d think I was too old for you.” And he might’ve been. Twenty years was a healthy gap but it wasn’t anything you wouldn’t indulge in. Hell, if you could, you’d date him. 

“Not at all.” You replied. “I can’t lie, I’ve been thinking about it all year.”

“About what?”, he pushed.

“About… seeing you.”

“You can say it.” He noticed your blush. 

“I want to hear you say it.”, he egged you on.

You sighed, trying to muster up the words. “I’ve been thinking about… being with you all year.”

“And doing what?”, he took another sip of his wine and raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to say it?”

“Yes.”, There was no way you would be able to admit it to him fully.

“You want your professor to fuck you. You want me to take you to my room, undress you, and take care of you better than anyone ever has.”

Your face was red. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” You drank from your glass. 

“Come here.”, he spoke softly and you got up. “Straddle me, love.” 

You sat on his lap and he looked up at you, grinning ear to ear. He brought his hand up to your neck and pulled you down to kiss him. It was brief. He pulled away and looked into your eyes. Then he kissed you again. And, again. Then, he started kissing your neck. You couldn’t help but let out a small moan as you felt him getting hard underneath you. He kissed and nipped at your skin. His hands reached the hem of your shirt and he pulled it off before you could register it happening. Once it did, you helped him out of his. 

He tapped your ass a couple times, silently saying get up. He walked you backward and pushed you up against a nearby wall. He started removing a bra strap, but you stopped him.

“Well don’t get shy on me now.”, he chuckled. “Come.” He reached out his hand and you grabbed it. He led you down the hall to his bedroom and you sat down on the bed. You took your cues from him. As he started to lean over, you began to lay down. His hand was unhooking your bra with one hand. He was finicking with it and after a few moments, it was off. The cool air hitting your nipples caused them to rise. Jim kissed you again, then kissed down your neck, and finally put his hands on you. He licked, sucked, and grabbed your breasts. 

“You’re so beautiful. Even more gorgeous than I could have imagined. Baby, I need to taste you.” 

You wanted to protest but your pants were already coming off. Your panties followed. He groaned, “Fuck, baby, all this for me?

Before you could respond he kissed the inside of your thigh, then down, down, down until he reached your pussy. You were so wet for him already. He used his fingers first, wanting to feel you first. 

“You always get this wet for your Professor?”

“Yes.”, you responded breathlessly. His fingers were moving in and out of you. Slowly at first and then faster. He hit that perfect spot each time. Then he added his mouth. This time he didn’t go slow. He was licking and sucking on your clit. You moaned out his name and he smiled. He ate you out like his life depended on it. No one had ever done this to you. No one had ever paid this much attention to your body. You were a whimpering mess. His hand found its way back to your nipple, rolling it between his fingers. He then squeezed, hard, which made you load loudly. 

“Please Jim, I’m gonna cum.”, you plead. 

 He got you close to the edge and then pulled away. You whimpered at the loss of him. “Please, keep going.”

“No, if you’re gonna cum, I’m gonna be inside of you.” He took off the rest of his clothing. You moaned at the sight of him. He was right. You would never need the toy again. You couldn’t wait for him to be inside of you. He knew this and instead decided to tease you with his cock. He dragged it along you and tapped your clit the same way you did with your toy at home. Only this was a hundred times better.  

He nipped at your ear and whispered. “You really want it, huh?”

“Yes,” you begged “It’s all I want.” 

He grinned and entered you slowly and without warning. Your jaw dropped slightly. You couldn’t even make a sound, you were too busy with the feeling of him filling you up entirely. He let out a sigh and grabbed your chin.

“Look at me. Open your eyes. Look at me while I fuck you.” You did as he said. He started to pick up the pace. He was making this intimate. He caressed your face and made almost as much noise as you did. “Good girl. You’re such a good girl, following directions. Ready for another one?” You nodded. 

“Get on top. Sit down on my cock.” You started moving before he even finished his sentence. There was no room for shyness anymore. He sat up against the headboard as you sunk down on him; the new angle was doing wonders for the both of you. He thrusted up, wanting to feel more of you. He held you close to him as you began to ride him. 

“You sure know how to treat a girl, Professor.”, you said breathlessly.

He chuckled and kissed you. “You sure know how to treat your Professor. You’re being so good for me. Such a good girl.”

His hand found its way back to your clit, his thumb rubbing circles. He wanted to make sure you came first.

And you did.

It came in waves. You felt it build up and told him you were close. Then, you fell apart. You pulled him close and kissed him passionately. He wrapped his arms around you and whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you came. 

“That’s it, baby. So, so good for me. God, such a pretty little thing.“ He took control, holding you up and thrusting into you. The sensation was almost too much to bear. 

“Where do you want it.”, he asked.

“Inside. Please. I’m on the-“

“Are you sure, love?” You could tell he couldn’t wait any longer. 

You begged, “Yes. Yes, I am, just please cum inside me.”

And he did.

He filled you to the brim. You felt him twitch inside of you as his hips stuttered. He held onto you so tightly you were sure it would leave marks. You were both breathing hard. He stayed inside of you and held you against him. He put his forehead against yours as you regained your breath. 

He kissed you again, this time not wanting to pull away. But, you did. You pulled yourself off of him and laid down as the realization of what you did started sinking in. He lied down next to you and stared at the ceiling.

Silence. And after a few moments, you turned your head and spoke.

“So, is this it?” It came out more timid than you would have liked it to. 

He gave you a look you couldn’t quite place and after a moment he said, “Oh, love, you’re mine now.”

#jim the delinquent season x reader #jim delinquent season #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #jim delinquent season x reader #jim delinquent season x f!reader #professor!jim x reader #i proofread this but no one is perfect #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #annie writes

[copper-16]

Tulips and Two Embarrassing Mothers

Elena brings Kaia home to meet Ingrid and Mapi. Which of course leaves them to reminisce on the last time she brought home a partner to meet her parents.

(a/n: Once every blue moon Copper-16 attempts to be funny, despite the fact that she is inherently not a funny person! This is said attempt! Read at your own risk :)

Elena stared at her mother, sitting across the table from her. 

Mapi stared right back at her daughter, the two of them seemingly lost in a battle of wills that neither seemed inclined to give up. 

Ingrid stared at them from her position leaning back against the kitchen counter, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Here is the deal,” Elena said finally, her gaze pointed. “You are going to be nice, you are going to be kind, and most of all? You are going to be normal,” the dark haired girl stressed, her words harsh. 

“I will be normal!” Mapi cried out indignantly, and Ingrid finally allowed herself to shake her head slightly, giving in to the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Your track record is not exactly the best for this thing, and we both know that,” Elena sassed quickly, and Mapi slapped her hand over her heart, feigning that she was quite hurt by the statement. 

“Oh for Christ’s sake Mami, really? Do you need a reminder of what exactly happened last time?!” Elena fought easily, and Mapi stuck her nose up in the air, shaking her head. 

“I have no clue what you are talking about,” she shook her head stubbornly, and her daughter allowed her head to drop into her hands with frustration. 

—

Elena was seventeen, and it was the first time she was bringing a partner home to meet her parents. 

Which would have been fine, if not for the conversation that had happened the week prior at the dinner table. 

“Mami, Mama? I need to tell you something,” she explained as she set down her fork, both of her mothers looking up at her with concern. 

“What is it baby?” Ingrid asked softly, leaning forward with worry. The teenager seemed stressed about something, but neither of them knew what it was about. 

“Well, I…uh…I’m seeing someone. We are dating, in fact,” she explained, and her mother’s faces relaxed from concern to excitement. 

“Oh honey that is wonderful!” Mapi exclaimed, feeling a little better now that she knew it was not something bad. Elena seemed to perk up at her mother’s reaction, some of her nerves dissipating at their clear ease. She had been worried that they would be upset with her, but that didn’t seem to be the case. 

“And well…I was wondering if he could come for dinner so that you could meet him,” she continued, and Ingrid nodded her head with an easy smile on her face, very open to the idea. 

Mapi was also nodding her head, before she paused. It was a slight misstep, just a brief pause, before the smile was back on her face, just in a slightly more forced fashion. 

Elena had scampered off to her room after dinner, leaving the two wives alone to clean up the kitchen for the night. 

“Boyfriend?! She has a boyfriend?!” Mapi whisper screamed as she rushed after Ingrid into the kitchen. The Norwegian jumped at the sudden intrusion of her wife in her personal space, and she looked back at the Spaniard as though she had grown another head. 

“What? What is wrong? We always said we were okay with her dating, we just wanted her to be honest with us,” Ingrid remembered simply, not entirely understanding her wife’s outburst. 

“But a boyfriend?!” Mapi hissed, and Ingrid’s expression dropped as she began to understand. 

“María, just because we are gay doesn’t mean that our daughter is,” the green eyed woman explained slowly, keeping her voice level. 

“But you gave birth to her! You are the gayest person I know, look at your outfit! Look at your hands!” Mapi cried, as though this was a logical argument. Ingrid looked down first at the clothes that she was wearing, and then at her hands for a moment with complete confusion before she shook her head, refocusing on the conversation. 

“The fact that she came out of me, who is gay, has nothing to do with whether or not she will be gay,” Ingrid reasoned, and the Spaniard threw her head back dramatically, sighing heavily. 

“But now we have to follow the boyfriend protocol! I need to scare him! Show him that he will never be good enough for my little girl!” Mapi claimed, as the dark haired woman’s expression shifted to one of thinly veiled horror. 

“María min, you will do no such thing. I promise you, that is not what Elena needs from us,” Ingrid pleaded, knowing that her wife’s mind was already running with possibilities, none of which could be any good. 

“No, no, I need to prepare,” Mapi declared, pressing a kiss to her wife’s cheek before she left Ingrid in the kitchen, marching off to her office to get up to nothing good, that the Norwegian was sure of. The dark haired woman looked down at her hands once more, turning them over and back again before she shook her head, calling after her wife. 

“What do you mean, my hands are gay? What does that mean?!” 

—

Elena and Ingrid were preparing dinner when Mapi sauntered down the stairs, and both her daughter and wife turned at the sound of her entrance. 

For Ingrid, she had to attempt to hold back her laughter. For Elena, her jaw dropped open in shock, and not in a good way. 

“Mami, no!” Elena called out in despair, taking in the Spaniard’s outfit. 

Mapi was dressed in head to toe black formal wear. She had on a black button up, with black slacks and a black belt. Sunglasses sat over her eyes, never mind the fact that they were indoors. 

“You look like you are in the Secret Service!” Elena cried despondently, and Mapi smiled victoriously. 

“You said he is from America, no? He will be scared of me then, if I am dressed like the Secret Service,” she reasoned, as Elena dropped her head into her hands, her face flushing with embarrassment. It was true that the boyfriend, Grayson, was American. His mother worked in diplomacy and was settled here in Spain with her family, where Grayson attended the same private school that Elena did. 

“We met in my statistics class, it’s not like he stalked me!” Elena cried, her eyes roving over the outfit. “Mami, you cannot wear this. Tell her Mama!” The teenager tried, looking back at her other mother hopefully. 

“I already tried to talk her out of it! She was…insistent,” Ingrid replied diplomatically, trying to seem like she wasn’t about to burst out laughing. She was dressed in a simple sundress, far more normal than whatever getup Mapi was wearing. The Spaniard had by now taken off her sunglasses, making the whole getup slightly more palatable, but the teenager still had many complaints to be heard. 

But before Elena could even start to beg her mother to change, there was a knock at the door. 

Mapi turned toward the door, as did Elena at the same time, but her daughter was entirely unprepared for the mad rush that the Spaniard would make for the door, making it there before Elena and wrenching it open. 

On the opposite side stood a teenage boy, exactly as one would expect to find him. He looked a little squirrely already, holding a bouquet of tulips in his hand. He shifted from side to side, looking a little more perplexed than truly scared at Mapi standing in the doorframe. 

The former center back looked the boy up and down, clearly surveying him with a frown plastered onto her face. 

“Uh…hola?” The boy asked hesitantly, his face filling just slightly with relief when Elena’s face popped over her mother’s right shoulder. 

“Elena!” He smiled, but it dropped slightly when Mapi shifted to the side, suddenly blocking Elena from view. She still hadn’t moved from the doorframe, not allowing the boy any further into their home. 

“Mami, let him in!” Elena hissed, tugging at her mother’s arm. Mapi gave it another thirty seconds before she finally moved, grumbling under her breath. The teenager shot her boyfriend an apologetic look as she ushered him inside, allowing him to hand the flowers to Ingrid, who took them with a gentle nod of her head. 

As much as Mapi was putting a show on about it, Ingrid was still a little skeptical about the boyfriend as well. She was being perfectly friendly, which was more than her wife could say, but she was still on alert. 

“Come on, we are going to have dinner,” Elena stepped forward to grab the boy's hand, leading him insistently toward the set table that was out on their patio. 

“Hey, hey, everyone hands to themselves!” Mapi called out, and her daughter obeyed but not without shooting a death glare back at her. Ingrid looked equally unimpressed, wiping her hands on a towel as she shot her wife a look. 

“We might be instigating a bit of a double standard here,” 

“Hey, you and I are married! She is a baby!” Mapi argued heavily, but Ingrid wasn’t impressed. 

“We both know that we would have been horribly insufferable if we had met when we were younger. You were a horny mess when I met you at twenty five, I could not imagine you at seventeen,” Ingrid remarked with a hint of sarcasm, as Mapi shoved her respective pointer fingers into her ears, screwing her eyes shut as well. 

“Oh gross! La la la la la—I can’t hear you!” She called out as she moved toward the sliding glass door, joining the two students at the table as Ingrid brought out the last of the food. 

Things didn’t get much better once they had sat down, all of them beginning to make some small talk. Ingrid asked Grayson about his family and his time in Spain, curious as to what the life of a diplomat's son would be like. He answered kindly, speaking animatedly but with a good intelligence. 

He overall seemed like a good young man, but despite that, Mapi still glared at him as she ate, her chest puffed out more than necessary. 

“You two met in school, yes?” Ingrid inquired politely, and Elena nodded as she took a bite of chicken, unprepared for her mother’s next question.

“So, Grayson, do you make it a habit to always approach girls in these classes to ask them out?” Mapi accused, her words taut with a clear insinuation. Elena choked on the bite of food she was eating, swallowing roughly as she clawed for her glass of water, her face flushing red. 

“Mami!” She snapped under her breath. 

“Um…no? Elena was the one who asked me out, actually,” he admitted, and like a balloon, Mapi seemed to deflate. 

“Oh. That is very…female forward of you,” she conceded, murmuring it more to herself than anything else. Ingrid rolled her eyes, turning the conversation away from the awkward question. 

“You both used to play football, right?” Grayson asked, and Ingrid nodded, as did Mapi. 

“Did you play at Barcelona?” He asked, seeming to grow more excited. The Norwegian nodded once more, a smile slipping onto her face as she looked over at her wife. 

“We played together, as center backs,” Ingrid explained, and the teenager lit up with excitement. 

“Wow, that is so cool! My family are big Barcelona fans, I grew up watching them. That is so cool that you both played there so long,” he replied, trying to be friendly. 

“See Mami, he is a Barcelona fan! Isn’t that nice?” Elena probed, looking at Mapi hopefully. The brunette grumbled in agreement, spearing another piece of asparagus on her fork and shoving it in her mouth to avoid speaking more. 

In the end, it was Ingrid who scared the poor boy more than Mapi ever did. The Spaniard was too big making an accidental fool of herself entirely to really be all that effective in ‘scaring’ anyone, and the Norwegian’s quiet demeanor and piercing gaze turned out to be much better tactics for inciting fear, had that been the goal. 

It was only when the door shut on Grayson that Mapi turned to her wife and daughter, a big smile on her face. 

“I thought that went very well!” She declared, watching as both her wife and daughter’s heads dropped into their respective hands in unison. 

“Well, at least nobody will claim you two aren’t related,” the brunette sighed as she moved away from them, feeling quite content with her (slightly ridiculous) actions. 

“I am never speaking to you again!” Elena yelled down at her as she walked up the stairs, rolling her eyes at how horrible the whole dinner had gone. 

—

“I don’t see why you aren’t getting mad at her, she was the one who actually scared him!” Mapi reminded her daughter helpfully, pointing to Ingrid and entirely throwing her under the bus. 

“On accident! She scared him on accident!” Elena interjected, and Mapi threw a look at the dark haired woman, narrowing her eyes. 

“By accident! Have you seen her - she doesn’t do things by accident!” 

“I sure don’t,” she replied to her wife with an almost sultry undertone, and Elena gagged. 

“Gross, both of you! Keep it in your pants and together, please. You are going to be normal,” she pointed to Mapi first. 

“And you are going to be nice!” She turned to Ingrid, one eyebrow raised. Both of her mothers raised their hands in surrender, before promising their daughter that they would do their best to keep things kind. 

It was the first time her mothers were meeting Kaia. They had been dating for nearly a year at this point, but with the busy schedule of Kaia’s playing and Elena’s schooling, they hadn’t been able to coordinate for the striker to meet Mapi and Ingrid. 

They had technically met when the English girl was much younger, but it was the first time she was meeting them as Elena’s girlfriend. It was also the first time that she was introducing a partner to her parents since Grayson, and she was hinging on it going well. 

She really liked Kaia. The green eyed girl hadn’t dated a whole lot of people, but there was something about the footballer that felt…different. In the best way possible. 

Mapi is dressed in a nice white polo and some khaki slacks, a far cry from the Dracula inspired outfit she was wearing the last time. Ingrid has a t-shirt and a flowing skirt on, and it is she who offers to get the door when it rings, saving the student and Spaniard as Elena hurriedly reminds her mother of about ten more things to remember when meeting her girlfriend. 

“Kaia, hello!” Ingrid cries happily as she opens the door, immediately pulling the striker into a hug. She ushers the girl inside with a smile, and Elena does a double take when she realizes that her girlfriend is holding a bouquet of tulips, much like Grayson had. 

She hops up from the table, all but floating over to her girlfriend happily as she presses a kiss to her cheek, before she wraps her arms around the English girl, holding her tightly in her arms for a second. 

Perhaps, to protect her from the onslaught she is sure to receive from her mothers when she lets her go. 

But the daughter of the two former Barcelona center backs has absolutely nothing to worry about, it turns out. 

Because as though they have been magically cured of their skepticism, Mapi and Ingrid couldn’t be nicer. 

“You are so much bigger now, but I still remember when you were so little! Maren would visit and bring you to camp and we would always coo over how adorable you were,” Ingrid reminisces, as Kaia blushes slightly. 

“I hardly remember it, but I’m sure I loved going,” she gushed, placing the salad on the table as all of the women sat down together. 

“And you are playing at Chelsea now, is that correct?” Mapi asks, her voice friendly and open, as her daughter sitting next to her stares at her in shock. 

“Yes! They called me back from my loan from Hammarby last season and I’ve been playing with them for the year, it’s been a wonderful experience,” Kaia explained, and the Spaniard nodded slowly, considering her words. 

“Any interest in the Spanish league?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Kaia was quick to affirm her question. 

“Yes, absolutely! That is the goal, especially with Kaia being here for the next few years with school,” she explained, and approval shined in the Spaniard’s eyes as she nodded, before Ingrid moved the conversation along. 

It was only when Kaia got up to use the restroom that Elena whirled around to her mother, looking full of skepticism. 

“What is this!” She exclaimed, and Mapi’s eyebrows furrowed in instant confusion. 

“What do you mean!” She huffed, confused by the doubt present in her daughter's expression. 

“You are acting so…so normal!” Elena observed as Mapi’s expression shifted to one of indignancy. 

“I am normal! Tell her amor, I am so normal!” The brunette stressed, but Ingrid took one look at the pair and threw her hands up, standing up to clear the table to bring out dessert. 

“Oh no, there’s no way I’m getting involved in this discussion,” she clarified, leaving the two alone at the table. 

“When I brought Grayson home, you were the opposite of normal! You were absolutely deranged!” 

“Deranged might be a bit strong. I prefer overprotective,” Mapi denied helpfully, standing up from the table to go help Ingrid. “Besides, that boy was not good for you. Kaia is much better for you, much better to you.” 

Elena’s eyes narrowed as her mother spoke, her brain working overtime to discern the true meaning behind her words. 

“Is this because Kaia is a girl and Grayson was not?!” She realized, and while Mapi didn’t reply, her expression told the Spanish student everything she needed to know. 

“This is reverse discrimination!” Elena hissed, as Mapi looked back at her with an overly innocent face whilst she moved toward the kitchen. 

“What was that hon?” She called out, a rather devious grin on her face as her daughter sent her what must be her fifth death glare of the night. 

Mapi had just disappeared into the kitchen when Kaia walked around the corner, finding her girlfriend looking rather annoyed, a classic Elena expression. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She asked instantly, one of her eyebrows raising as she looked around, expecting to find something amiss. Instead, all she saw was Mapi and Ingrid headed back to the table with dessert, smiling at one another. 

Elena caught one glimpse of them and groaned, running her hand over her face in slight frustration. She looked up at the English girl with an exasperated face as she shook her head. 

“Don’t even ask!"

#woso #ingrid engen #mapi leon #ingrid x mapi x daughter #barcelona femeni #this is my attempt at being funny

[sordidmusings]

Age Gap (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: for @soft-mafia since she wanted more age gap Buggy! Mostly bulleted like a headcanon but has two little drabbles sprinkled in cuz I couldn't help myself. I will be posting a continuation of this actually writing out the scene mentioned at the end, but I wanted to get this out now.

Word count: ~2.6 k

Warnings: obviously an age gap but the younger one is mentioned to be in their 20s, fem!reader, NSFW mentioned at the end, alcohol consumption, probably (hopefully) silly humor, the touch starved shows hardcore for a second there, tried my best to get Buggy right but you know how it be especially because he exists as an amalgam of LA and anime Buggy in my brain

Now come get y'all dopamine

I imagine you joined Buggy’s crew largely looking for that found family goodness then found out how much you’d never been taken care of and how much you craved it

One day while going through the different acts you were learning from the crew trying to find what stuck, you took a decent fall. Not the kind that breaks bones, but the kind where you just gotta lay there a sec and recalibrate how you got to this point

After some laughter (I mean come on it is a crew curated by Buggy and they could tell it wasn’t serious), the nearby crew surrounded you to check on you. While you were breathlessly saying you’re fine from your position on the floor, they parted to reveal the Captain coming to your side:

Buggy bent down to loom over you. The shadow he cast over your face was a welcome break from the bright overhead lights. You just wished that the way they haloed him didn’t make it so hard to see the laughter on his face.

“Good form! I think we could just throw you around to see you flail like that as your act - you’d be our finest comedy routine.” His voice was thick with sarcasm and giggles. However, his detached arms were gentle when they lifted you from the floor. They changed to posing outstretched with his hands on your shoulders and he walked into them to reattach. He looked you up and down before circling around you, all the while his hands were nudging you this way and that for his inspection. Once he was back at your front, he changed to brushing some dirt from your arms and shoulders. You didn’t speak for fear of interrupting this attention you were receiving from him.  He seemed to suddenly snap to clarity anyway.

“RIGHT.” Vocal control? Who is she? Buggy doesn’t know her. “So either get better at what you’re doing or actually fall on purpose. Wouldn’t want you fucking up that money maker.” He was already walking away when one detached hand gave your cheek two brisk pats and he made himself scarce.

It was obvious to you and everyone else how much you ate up his attention. The soft look you were still giving the direction he went in was damn near sickening. It was then you understood your purpose here - becoming Buggy’s spoiled lapdog.

Luckily for you, that was also the moment Buggy realized how his body buzzed when he touched you and how he lit up when you looked up at him with pretty, wide eyes. 

Unluckily, he also decided that being near you would lead down a dangerous route of him needing more and more of you and he was positive that he was just being some old creep over a pretty little thing like you.

This led to a game where Buggy would try to keep you at arm’s length while he battled both his own desire to be around you and your seemingly supernatural ability to just appear next to him at all times.

He wasn’t great at the arms distance thing even when he thought he was nailing it because nailing it to him was being in his natural space as the center of attention and only checking (immediately and desperately) that you were watching and approving of whatever he was doing. The way his head would always snap to you for your reaction was neither subtle nor discouraging to your rapidly growing infatuation.

You decided that orbiting his personal space wasn’t working well enough. Sure, he’d give you a hit of what you wanted with some fleeting touches and mostly disguised compliments but you needed more. Hurting yourself intentionally so that he would take care of you didn’t seem like a sustainable option, so you settled on playing his own game. Time to practice owning a room.

This could be a dangerous game to play. You were certain that blatantly taking the spotlight would just make him upset with you not that you’d mind him taking that out on you. You settled on more subtle things like spreading your attention more through the crew instead of mostly on him, being more focused and daring in your training, participating more in the many games that broke out when the alcohol did, and dressing a bit more intentionally (whether that’s flashier colors, eye-catching accessories, bold makeup, new or intricate hairstyles, etc.) 

The boldest card you played was feeding more into any of the flirting you received.

He has a freak show, yes, but have you ever seen how fine circus performers are?? Full fun costumes are It and also the tasks they have to perform either help them get conventionally attractive bodies and/or the rizz that comes with performing feats (just look at the traction Fryboy has gained with women like damn why he kinda-). Due to that, you’re around attractive people all the time.

While the flirting is for the purpose of pushing Buggy’s buttons, you must admit that it wasn’t a hard habit to keep up and may help inflate your ego.

Your attempts have mixed results. Buggy’s desire to claim you grew but so did his insecurity

In his mind, you look more natural next to one of the younger lookers in his crew while he’s certain the pair of you must look ridiculous together. It’s this very insecurity that’s gonna make it necessary for you to bluntly and shamelessly throw yourself at him both repeatedly and with no room for questions:

You have no clue what else you can do to get through that thick skull of his. You’re on your knees, quite literally at that. You figured that kneeling in front of that circus throne while he’s laid himself all over it would be enough to break the man. Enough to break any man, really, but he’s still finding ways to deflect you.

Buggy nodded his head to a nearby open seat. “You know they made chairs to be comfortable and your dumb ass is on the floor. That drunk already?” he snorted. Maybe choosing to do this during one of the many celebrations (you think this one is for one week of no one pregaming for show runs. ironic.) was a bad idea. You had been banking on some drinks loosening up whatever was holding him back.  It always made you snicker when you entertained the idea of it being from a sense of propriety. Checking in on the situation, you could see how all the chaos going on around you two made it easier for him to keep his eyes off of you and his ears unfocused. Earlier, you had counted it as a plus that working up a buzz would help you bulldoze through his stubbornness. You had forgotten that any alcohol in your system would make for the perfect excuse for him to write you off.

“I’ve barely started my third drink,” you started with a pout, “and I’d be ashamed if that’s enough to get me drunk after all the time spent on your crew.”

“Then you are just being stupid.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Okay. Attention didn’t work. Compliments didn’t work. Kneeling didn’t work. Time for some big guns.

You shifted to the side so you’d be sitting towards your left hip with your bent legs beside you. Your drink found its way to your right hand but, most importantly, your chin found its way onto Buggy’s left knee. It brought you so close to where you’d really like to put yourself to work, and, man, was the temptation strong with the way his right leg was slung over the armrest of his seat. How did he expect you to stay away when he was serving himself up on a platter like this?

Buggy was definitely giving you his undivided attention now. His gaze was dark and slightly accusatory. The lighting matched with his makeup made him look more dangerous than usual. The nerves it sent through you might have had you back right off. Instead you held your ground because you saw his pulse hammer against his neck. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. You saw his pink tongue contrast with red as he licked his lips and gave a shaky exhale.

While you were starting to settle into your bold move, Buggy was becoming more and more antsy. His grip on his glass became white-knuckled under his gloves, and he tried to give himself time to think by taking a huge gulp of his drink. Why did you have to look at him like that? So pleading? The angle from his lap made your lashes darken your eyes and it was impossible for him to keep the image of your hooded gaze about a foot closer to him out of his head. What did you want from him? You’d denied his accusations about money or intel so what the fuck could it be? Was this a game? Get in the pants of the Captain for preferential treatment and go back to whoever else you had in your palm on the crew to laugh about him falling for it?

You noticed his mood turning sour so you decided to interrupt whatever was tumbling around his head. “I think I could get much more comfy right here.” To prove a point, you dragged your chin to his inner thigh, right above his knee, and snuggled your cheek into his leg. His pants weren’t the softest against your skin but he was so addictingly warm through them. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut to enjoy the sensation before you looked back up at him and flirtatiously said, “I’m comfiest next to you.”

His hands itched with the need to grab you by the hair and force your face right where he needed you. Instead he scoffed at you. “Suuuuure. And why’s that, princess?”

“You make me smile,” you admitted immediately. His startled gaze met your lovesick one and you realized what you said and how quickly you said it. Too close to emotionally vulnerable; time to backtrack a touch. You want to get the role as his trophy before you even attempt to approach the title of Love of His Life. “You also said that you take care of your crew and I’m on your crew, right? So you’ll take care of me.”

The cheeky smile you spoke through melted him. An achingly deep sigh left him while his right hand detached from the arm to deposit his drink on the floor next to you. Quickly, it flew back to its limb. Both of your hearts pumped fire through your chests as he reached that hand out towards you. Buggy took his time stroking his fingers from your forehead into your hair. When his palm came down to join the gesture, you were very happy to realize that his hand was just as warm as the thigh still under your cheek. You shuffled closer so your legs squeezed in between his foot and the left leg of his throne. Buggy shuddered when he felt your fingertips graze the back of his calf and spread out like a star so you could grab it. Using your new grip, you snuggled more firmly into his leg and let yourself buzz off of getting this new touch from your Captain.

Ulterior motives be damned, Buggy couldn’t give them any credence when you looked so happy to sit at his feet and receive such a simple touch. He should probably laugh and call you a needy puppy to regain some control over the situation. Instead, he slipped his hand down the side of your head.  He massaged his fingertips into the base of your skull and said, “I’ll take care of you, little star.”

Once he has accepted that you’re serious there will be jokes about the dynamic but do not be fooled - he can only dish it out and WILL spiral if he receives any type of comment about how much older he is (the word geriatric is punishable by death)

Sometimes the joke is him patronizingly treating you like a child (you almost socked him right there at the dinner table when some food came at your face with accompanying airplane noises)

Sometimes it’s calling you a gold digger (“then where’s my allowance, huh?” “OH so my gIFTS AREN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW? YOU were the one ACTUALLY CRYING over me buying you that wonky ass stuffed seal with the lopsided face!!” “HIS NAME IS JERRY AND YOU WILL SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT”)

Sometimes it’s just dumb shit like pointing at the type of girl’s clothing store that has made a contract with God to own all the pinks and pastels the world has to offer before turning to you straight faced and asking if you want to stop in to look. Any way this man can think to goof, he will.

And it’s tooooootally a coping mechanism to process the fact that he’s nearly forty and dating a twenty-something and not at all because joking around with you has become one of his basic survival needs

The dynamic ends up helping both of y’all feel special - you have a hot, boisterous, spotlight-stealing pirate captain pampering (and then making a mess of) you while he gets a beautiful, capable, eye-catching young thing looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky

Nothing goes to Buggy’s head more than when you walk into a room full of people, attractive ones especially, and only see him.

He loves anything that makes it obvious to others that you are his, whether that's him draped over you, you draped over him, red stains on the back of your hands, your shoulders, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, having his jolly roger on your outfit, having you in his hat or coat

This very much extends to him wanting anyone and everyone to overhear you in the bedroom. Everyone should know you're his and he's the only one who can make you feel so good

Don't worry, they'll also get the message that he's yours from all the moaning and praises

He gives you endless pet names but always comes back to “sweet stuff”, “sweets”, “princess”, “star”, “prima donna” (affectionate), “prima donna” (derogatory), and anything preceded by “little” (“little showstopper”, “little tease”, very rarely “little girl” if he feels especially like exerting power over you)

He prides himself on making you feel cared for and safe. Instead of feeling like a chore he has to do because he’s in the ‘older man’ role, he loves the way you preen under his attention and how you happily return the favor.

When in the Cross Guild Era, Buggy started going to all meetings with you by his side then on his thigh. It was a good defensive strategy because the other two seemed more hesitant to throttle him if you were in the way, but lets be real this man is also clingy and loves showing you off too.

At first he found it offensive that Mihawk and Croc were so disbelieving at the sight of you happily perched on your captain’s lap but then it made him the smuggest motherfucker when he would see their eyes trail over you knowing that they can only look and he can touch however he wants. This leads to him pushing until he hit your boundary at leaving very visible marks on you

One time he fucked you stupid right before a meeting so that you wouldn’t think about the bite mark surrounded by red makeup that kept playing peekaboo with your shirt collar (or the red smears between your thighs that showed whenever you shifted your legs)

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown #one piece #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #opla buggy #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #my writing #fem reader #afab reader #x reader

[lokis-army-77]

Premium Air

mondern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.1k

It's a few days after April Foos, Eddie isn't expecting you to pull a koke but you have something up your sleve.

Warning: noting! unless you count cursing

Thank you to my beta readers @munson-blurbs and @lofaewrites

Masterlist

You loved seeing the harmless little pranks that people would play on their significant others on social media and with April first already behind you, you knew Eddie wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

It was a bright Wednesday afternoon, you were at Robin's for a much needed girls day when you decided to put your little prank into action. 

"Hey, Rob, you wanna watch as I give Eddie a mini heart attack?" You ask as you wiggle into a more comfortable position on her couch.

"Oh my god, yes!" She excitedly shuffles over to you, leaning her whole body over your right side. 

You're both a giggling mess when you send the first text message. 

Hey, so my tire pressure light just came on, do I need to go have it checked?

It takes a few minutes but he eventually responds.

Is it still driving alright? 

Bring it to the shop when you get home from Robs, I'll fill it up before I leave work.

Yeah, it's driving just fine. The screen says it's my front passenger side tire.

You'll be fine to drive back home, I'll fill it up then, baby.

You leave it be for around thirty minutes as you and Robin think of what you should say next.

So Robin said I should go get it checked out and we were worried I wouldn't be able to drive all the way to your shop so I came to the one by her house.

I didn't know air was so expensive 😫. 

It was no more than a second later that your phone started to ring in your hands. Eddie's contact photo lighting up the screen. You swiped it away and you could feel Robin beginning to silently laugh 

Sweetheart, answer the phone.

Another call that you decline.

What do you mean expensive? Answer your phone!!!

Don't worry, Eds, the guy gave me a good deal! I think it's bc he thought I was pretty.

What do you mean by a good deal? Sweetheart, how much did you pay?

You and Robin can hardly contain your laughter. Tears are running down your faces. 

"I feel so bad, but it's so funny!" You cry. 

Robin nods along, "Don't, it's totally hilarious." She wipes her tears away and points at your phone, "Don't acknowledge those questions yet, say something about how he didn't notice the pretty comment."

You get to typing, fingers gliding over the keyboard.

Wow, I would have thought you'd be upset at another man...

Baby ,that is the last thing I'm worried about. HOW. MUCH. DID. YOU. PAY.

Well he said it was like premium air so it was on the more expensive end but apparently it won't seep out as fast as regular air.

You can see the read receipt and the three little dots as he begins to type. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest as the typing stops and he calls you again only for you to ignore it once more. 

Robin is beside you, howling as she holds her stomach. "This is the best thing I have EVER witnessed in my life!"

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, ANSWER YOUR PHONE. HOW MUCH DID YOU SPEND? BECAUSE PREMIUM AIR ISN'T REAL

So the guy said it's usually 250 for all 4 but he said he'd give me a deal and give me all 4 for the price of 3... is that not how much it usually is?

You need to tell me what shop you're at. Are you still there? Put me on the phone with this fucking guy

Eddie, I'm not putting you on the phone with him.

Sweetheart, why in the world would you take your car to someone else??? I'm literally a mechanic. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN FREE!! 

Are you mad at me?

No, I'm not mad at you baby. I just need you to put me on the phone with the shop owner or someone, anyone. Air in all 4 tires is never gonna be over like 5 bucks...

I told you I'd take care of it, why didn't you just listen 

You almost double over, laughing harder than before. You could tell you were stressing him out, that he was trying to keep from freaking out. 

"Oh my god!" You cackle, "I think it's time to break it to him or else he might actually have a heart attack or maybe an aneurysm. 

Eddie calls you one last time and this time, you answer, sushing Robin as you press the speaker button. 

"Thank fuck, Sweetheart, put me on the phone with the asshole that scared you." His face was gruff, the growl of irritation bringing a shiver lust down your spine. 

"Eddie, baby, calm down." 

"I'll calm down when I get you your money back," he huffs. You can hear the sounds of his shop muffled through the speaker. 

You can't help the giggle that slips past your lips when you make eye contact with Robin. 

"This is not funny," he stresses. 

The giggles continue to bubble up, "I know I know, but I can't help it. I love you so much."

"I love you too, now please let me talk to the guy, I really don't wanna ask again." 

Robin takes your phone at that point, clearing her throat and proceeding to do her best impression of a blue collar man.

"Hey, this is Rodger, at you just got pranked garage, how can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can help me, I-" Eddie stops mid sentence. 

You've got your hand covering your mouth as you try, and fail, to cover your chortles.

"Wait a second... Robin?" All the building anger in his voice disappears as he slowly realizes what's happening.

Robin begins wheezing as you grab your phone back, "We got you!" You gleefully exclam into the phone.

"We got you good!" Robing teeters back on her legs, almost falling from the couch.

You can hear the shaky sigh of relief fron the receiver on the other end. "Thank God. Baby you had me going crazy over here. I was about to drive to every garage in town to find you."

"I'm so so so sorry, baby. I really am but we didn't do anything for April fools like we usually do and I just knew you wouldn't be expecting this."

Eddie lets out the longest sigh of relief you've ever heard. "Shit, sweetheart, I'm getting too old for these pranks."

"You're 35." You deadpan.

"And it's all down hill from here."

You can't see it but you know he has a shit eating grin on and you roll your eyes. "I'll make it up to you when I get home."

"You better."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #female reader #eddie munson fluff

[reiderwriter]

Elevator Pitch

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 2k!!

Warnings: Smut, fingering, semi-public sex/ foreplay, praise kink-ish, some pet names completely ignored Spencer's germophobia to make this work 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: Getting trapped in an elevator is never fun, but at least the attractive you're sharing the metal box of death with has an interesting idea about how you can pass the time.

A/N: This is just a really quick drabble for @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute challenge for this month!! I have an idea for another one that I'll post closer to Halloween too, so look forward to that alongside all the kinktober fics 👀

Check out my masterlist here!

You weren't planning on running late on your very first day on your new team, but here you were. You were scheduled to meet Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner in his office at 9 a.m. sharp, and here you were at 8:57, trapped inside an elevator. At least you weren't alone, but alone with a stranger, and one who seemed to be talkative in the worst way wasn't exactly ideal either. 

"Hey, don't panic. There are about 6 elevator-related deaths per year and about 100,000 injuries. I'm pretty confident about those statistics." He said, taking a sip of his coffee as he stood calmly by the door, pressing buttons and waiting for something to happen. 

"Oh god, I'm gonna die in here." You whimpered a little bit, falling to your knees and screwing your eyes shut. 

"No, I said we're not gonna die. Or its at least very unlikely." 

"And I'm supposed to trust you?" 

"Yes, I'm very good with numbers. Elevator accidents account for 0.00024% of all elevators in service in the US. There you don't have to panic anymore." Almost punctuating his words, the elevator gave a low groan and fell an inch lower, pushing him off balance and toppling to the floor right next to you. 

"That was just unfortunate timing." He said, his breath hitting your face. Your eyes opened again finally, and you noticed that due to his topple, he was way closer than before, face merely inches from your own. Whoever this overconfident stranger was, he was attractive. Distractingly so, as you didn't respond to his sentence the entire time he was there in front of you, words suddenly escaping you as you stared into his dark, wide eyes. 

"Mechanical issues are the cause of about 15.3% of elevator incidents. Since we're in Quantico, we can probably rule out foul play, which means that they'll probably have us back up and running in around 27 minutes." Opening his mouth ruined the fantasy for a minute, waking you up to the reality of your situation. 

"Did you work an elevator case or something, why do you know so much about this?" You regretted the question as soon as you asked it, as he launched into another speech. 

"I read the statistical reports published by the CPSC and the OSHA. It’s really interesting stuff actually, there are-”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way but I need you to shut up. I don’t think I can take any more statistics about my inevitable death by elevator. Can we do something else instead?”

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know. Can you… Can you hold my hand?” You felt yourself flush red the second the words left your mouth, and suddenly it was your turn to talk too much. “My mom used to do it when I was scared as a kid, and obviously you’re not my mom, and you don’t even know me, but I thought it could help comfort both of us. Human contact and touch is supposedly comforting in times of distress so I just thought…” He cut you off by silently grabbing your hand and settling into a seated position beside you and you sent a little prayer up to god to spare both your soul and your heart. 

Because Jesus Christ it was beating hard now.

“Oxytocin,” he said and you looked up at him with a questioning look. “Oxytocin is released when you come into contact with other people, it’s the reason newborn babies benefit from skin-to-skin contact and why humans enjoy petting domestic animals so much. And the whole sex to destress thing.” He nodded and looked away, but you could have sworn the oxygen was completely sucked out of the room when he mentioned sex. 

“Sex?” He turned to you as you said the word, as if processing the conversation you were in the middle of it. 

“Yeah, never heard of it?” You rolled your eyes and squeezed his hand in your own for a second, but his body was leaning closer into yours now, his entire attention on you, as if he expected you to answer the question. 

“Of course I have.” 

“And what do you think? Can it help you de-stress?” 

Your mouth moves before you can stop it. “Can we stop talking about this please, I’m already scared, I don’t need to be scared and horny.” You close your eyes and groan as his widen again, and suddenly you’re praying again, but this time you wouldn’t really mind if you became one of those six elevator malfunction deaths. 

“I don’t know, maybe it would help you. There are some studies that show that stress can have aphrodisiacal impacts in women, you know?” His voice was light, but your entire body stiffened as you looked into his eyes, trying to gauge what this stranger was offering. 

“So what, you’re suggesting I just get more and more turned on until I’m not worried about death?” 

“No, I’m suggesting I close the gap between us and distract you for a while.” You spared a glance down to his lips then, his tongue darting out to lick them and pulling you in closer. You nodded quickly, a small movement and he pushed his lips down into yours. 

He was soft at first, and you almost felt like pulling away and scalding yourself for engaging in risky behavior during a near-death experience. But just as you moved to pull away, his hand came up to your hair and you melted right back into him, the kiss deepening as you slanted your neck up to give up more of yourself to him. 

You barely feel his hands pulling you into his lap, but you’re suddenly there and so happy you are. Your free hand wanders up to his chest as he squeezes your connected digits again, sending your heart into a fit of palpitations. In a panic you pull away, groaning a little as you can feel his not stiff member poking between your legs. 

“Sorry, I don’t think we exchanged names. I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N..” 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” His lips fall down to your neck as he whispers the words into your skin, and you let your head fall back as his hands untangle from you and fall to your hips, encouraging your movements as you begin grinding over him.

“And you said we had twenty-seven minutes before we’re free, right?” 

“Whose the one talking too much now?” He bit into your neck sharply then, and you moaned out, battling the urge to let him take you there on the elevator floor. From it’s perch on your hip, his hand slips down and pops the button in your pants, pushing inside and finally touching you through your panties.

“That’s it, good girl, just keep grinding down on me.” Unconsciously, you press your hips into his hands, the pressure leaving you letting out a whistful sigh of relief. 

“God,… Should we be doing this here?” Your words were unsure, but your movements weren’t as you pushed yourself into him again and again, desperate to feel more of him as he rubbed circles into your clit, driving you closer and closer to your peak. 

“Let’s assume for now that the elevator malfunction has wiped out the CCTV,” he says, lips pressing against your skin as you lose yourself in his touch again. “We absolutely should be doing this.” 

His words fell straight to your core, and you felt yourself grow more aroused as you pondered being caught in such an intimate position with a stranger.

“You think you can cum right here, baby? Think you can give me one soon?” His words almost sent you over the edge, his smile widening as your hips twitched over his. 

“Fuck, yes, yes, please, don’t stop.” 

“Not so scared about this elevator anymore are you? Or did you want to spend your last moments coming undone in my hands?” With his words, you lost the ability to speak, simply moaning out your agreement to his every word. 

“I think I can hear someone talking through the walls, baby, you’re going to have to cum now for me, can you do that?” You nodded to him as he increased his pace on your words, and within seconds, you were letting it all out, head falling against his shoulder as you twitched through your orgasm. He pulled his hands out of your pants quickly and pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling you up to a standing position and making you look presentable as the doors to the elevator were finally pried open from the other side. 

“Hey, how are you guys holding up in there?” The call came from the maintenance staff, and you were sudden;y thankful that he’d finished you off when he did because as horny as you’d been, actually getting caught like that was something entirely different than the fantasy of it. 

You’re almost sorry that you have to leave when you do, suddenly absolutely involved in helping him “destress” the same way he’d helped you out. But he removes his hands from you and strikes up a conversation with the maintenance staff working to get your elevator level with the floor doors. You gravitate to the back of the stall, gripping the railing while your brain catches up to the circumstances. 

In no time, the elevator is back in working order, and you and your stranger are stepping foot on steady ground again, and saying your goodbyes.  

“Aaron Hotchner’s office is through those doors. Up the stairs to the left.” He smiles and nods at you before turning down the corridor and leaving you there by yourself. A glance at your clock tells you you’re too late to question his words, and how he even knew where you were going. You take off down the hall, ready to profusely apologize to your new boss and pledge to take the stairs for the rest of your days. 

When Hotch finally greets you, he has already heard about the elevator malfunction, and all is thankfully forgiven. You have to bite your tongue before asking if everyone on this floor is psychic. But you’re still late, and you have a case, so your introductions have to take place in the briefing room and you half-run, half-walk behind the older man as he makes his way down the hall. 

“Everyone we have a new team member today, please help her out for this first one and show her the ropes.” He introduces you by name, and you’re suddenly doing your best to memorize the names of a Prentiss, a Rossi, a Morgan, a JJ, and one Penelope Garcia. They seem to be waiting for someone else, but with the clock ticking, Penelope begins debriefing you on the next case.  

“Sorry I’m late,” a voice calls from the door, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand up in shock as everyone slowly turns to greet the newcomer. 

“What time do you call this?” Morgan laughs as the familiar man approaches, and a quick glance around tells you that the only seat left at the table, which had been so obviously reserved by the pile of paper files in contrast to everyone else's digital alternatives, was right next to you. 

“Spencer, we have a new team member, this is Y/N. She’ll be joining us on cases from today onwards.” Hotch quickly says, and you lock eyes with the man just as he falls into his seat. 

“I think we’re acquainted. Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Spencer Reid.” The room falls silent as he holds out his hand for you to shake, and you do your best to not show your shock and embarrassment on your face. You let your hand fall into his, the same one that you’d held earlier, the same one that had worked you up to the edge and then helped you pour over it, the same one that had pulled you together afterward. You said nothing after you’d finally pulled apart, waiting for him to make the next move once again. 

“I look forward to working with you.” 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #meet cute #mentioningmargins