#I even try to * the word but get weird looks

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s���too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

[solarmorrigan]

Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope

cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse

-

The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.

Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.

“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”

“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.

Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”

As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”

Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.

Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”

“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”

His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”

“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.

“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.

“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”

Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.

“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”

Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.

“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”

“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”

Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”

“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.

Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.

Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.

“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”

Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”

The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”

He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–

Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.

It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.

Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.

(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)

(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”

Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).

“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”

Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.

“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.

Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.

When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.

It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.

“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.

“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”

“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.

“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”

Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”

In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.

He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.

[Prompt: Embracing your partner]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #cw child abuse #referenced but does not take place in the fic #cw panic attack #even if it doesn't look like one at first #soft ending though as always I promise

[shootingstar-scuderia]

shoot an arrow through my heart

max verstappen x reader

there's something you need to hear max say, but you're not sure if he's actually going to say it. you do know one thing though, it was always gonna be you and max.

a/n: started this longer ago than i'd like to admit but here we are! a big thank you to my fave beta reader K and to @scuderiahoney who helped me figure out all the banner image stuff. based on prompt #966 from this list.

masterlist

It starts with Lando. Because doesn’t it always? 

Lando says shit he doesn’t mean, Lando says things just for the sake of saying them. Lando says things as if they are fundamentally truths when they are in fact are lies.

And so, one moment you’re hanging out with Lando, letting him talk you down from buying the little trinket of the week you’ve fixated on, and the next he’s saying that Max is in love with you, saying it like it’s a truth, and then moving on as if he hasn’t just tilted your world on its axis.

And then, before you know it, you’re banging on Max’s front door trying to figure out if it’s true or not. 

Trying to figure out if your best friend is in love with you.

“Max! Open the door.”

He doesn’t.

You honestly don’t know if you want him to, or what you’re going to do when he does. Or if he even will, Max doesn’t know you’re here and you don’t even know if he’s home.

You’re just about ready to search for the spare key, the one you told him to hide in the firehose down the hallway because having a fake rock in front of his door makes no sense when he lives in an apartment building, when the door is flung open and a very grumpy looking Max, headset in hand, is giving you just about the most fed-up, unimpressed, stare you’ve seen in your life.

“Are you in love with me?” You can’t help it, the words foreign on your tongue but there’s an urgency to get them out and into the space in between you. You’re so desperate to hear him say it back.

Max blinks at you, bewildered at your words. You can see the gears turning in his head trying to work out what you just said and if you’re being honest you don’t know if you should be offended at the fact that the answer isn’t an immediate yes.

His brow furrows and his lips purse, “what?”

A beat passes, and then another, and then the idiot actually has the audacity to close the door.

You roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it you know that he knows that you’re doing it. As you push the exasperation out of your lungs you knock again.

“Max, nuh-uh, that is not going to work, open the door and answer my question.”

Nothing.

You bang your fist on the door one more time for good measure, “Max, you know I know where your spare key is and we both know that I’ll let myself in if necessary.”

It’s true and he knows it. 

There have been many nights where you’ve verged on the edge of too far gone and walked from the club to his apartment. Nights where you didn’t want the fun to end so instead of going home you go to Max’s where you can cuddle and coo at Jimmy and Sassy and sit around in comfy clothes and watch as Max putters around doing whatever it was he was doing before you came over.

It’s true. He knows it. But still, he doesn’t open the door.

You sigh and softly thump your forehead against Max’s front door, through the absence of your knocking you can hear his nervous shuffling on the other side. The inquisitive meows from the cats, the faint scrape of the peephole cover as Max checks to see if you’re still there, if you’re still waiting for him. 

You would wait for him for forever, but that’s just for you to know really.

Max opens the door again, just the barest amount. Just enough so his eyes, wide and disbelieving can lock onto yours. 

They’re so blue, you don’t know how you never noticed it before, so classically storybook blue that you’re really starting to wonder if this is all some kind of weird dream where you’re standing at his doorstep begging to be loved by him, like some kind of cheesy romcom star. Because after all, aren’t you just a girl standing in front of a guy?

“You’re in love with me.”

The words stretch the impossible distance between the two of you. Even when he’s halfway around the globe he’s never felt this far away.

And still, somehow, you feel too close to him. Like somehow all the other versions of you and him have been false proxies to what you’re reaching for right now. Like all of a sudden, somehow, he’s been molded into your every contour of your soul and you don’t want anything else

The door edges open a little wider.

“Are you asking me that or are you telling me?”

He’s stalling, you both know it. But, you can’t really bring yourself to do more than give him a fondly smile and roll your eyes at him. Because you know, if the roles were reversed, if he was the one throwing pebbles like some kind of suave Dutch romeo, demanding to know if you were in love with him, you would be doing the same thing.

“You and I both know how much you like being told what to do.” With a sigh Max opens the door to his apartment a little wider once more to let you in, “and yet, you’re still here telling me to open my door.”

You can’t really fault him for that one can you?

You make your way to the living room where you settle down on your spot on the couch while Max flits around the living room. Sassy is meowing at Max, desperate for a taste of the outside she only ever gets when the front door opens, and even though he knows she’s not going to make a run for it he still takes the time to half-heartedly shoo her away.

Max does this, dragging his feet, until both of the cats have curled up next to you on the couch and it is only then that he makes his way over to you. Coming to stand behind the armrest on his side of the couch, putting a little too much distance between the two of you for you to not feel spurned by him.

You can hear it in silence between you, you can feel it in the way your body seems to ache from having him in the ways you have him now and not in the ways you want to have him.

You’re not ready to have this conversation.

There’s a part of you that almost wants to say nevermind and forget that you even said anything in the first place. But deep down you know that the two of you have been putting on this elaborate dog and pony show for far too long. You’re only delaying the inevitable.

“So,” you say, nervously running your fingers over the fabric of the couch. “Is it true?”

You try to catch his eye as you say it, not only to try to make sure he doesn't chicken out but to see the reaction he gives. You want to see his soul and know that he means whatever he says.

But Max doges your gaze at every move in a way that makes him look like a kicked puppy. And you’re not really sure what it means but you can feel the way the dynamic has shifted. All of a sudden the two of you are on shaky ground, not sure where you stand with each other. Even though two hours earlier you would have called him your best friend with your entire heart.

“Well?”

“Please,” he says your name, strained and with a weight to it that you don’t quite want to acknowledge, “don’t make me say it.”

You’re not above begging, you really aren’t, but something about the way he sounds makes you falter. Just a little.

“Max,” you say his name softly, “I think you and I both know what your answer is going to be.”

“Then why do you need to hear it so bad?” His words bite, tinged with an anger that you know he doesn't really mean. “So, I can say it back!” Your words match the sharpness in his and you can see how much they throw Max off kilter.

He blinks at you and then rocks on his feet, first a step forward and then a step back like he’s blown away by the force of what you said. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

You cross your arms and shrug your shoulders, “it was a personal issue.”

“You being in love with me kind of also involves me.” 

You really don’t want to admit that he’s right on with that one.

You huff and shrug your shoulders again, “well it goes both ways, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I asked first,” Max shoots back.

You groan at his response and launch yourself up towards Max in a play attempt to strangle him. “Argh, you’re so!” You drape your arms over his shoulders as you slump against him, head resting in the spot where his shoulder meets his neck, “God I hate you.”

Max laughs underneath you, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist, “you evidently don’t.”

“You're so silly,” you sigh, tilting your head up to look at him. "You want to hear me say it so bad."

Your nose nearly brushes against his, he’s so close you think you could count every single one of his eyelashes if you tried.

Max makes a noise that’s somewhere between exasperated and surprised and you know that you’re toeing the line with your teasing

You always know when to give in when it comes to him.

“Okay, yes, I love you! I love you,” you say, “do you love me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Max says as he moves to cradles your jaw in his hands. “I love you.”

You grin, “good. Now kiss me please.”

And he does. He does and it feels like all the cliche things people say. It feels like coming home, it feels like fireworks are going off in the background, it feels like you were meant to be, that he was made for you just as much as you were made for him.

And you just know. You know that there can never be anyone else but him. That there was a version of you before Max and now there’s going to be a version of you that’s with Max, but there’s never going to be a you after Max.

“I love you.” Softer, quieter this time.

You don’t dare look him in the eye, instead choosing to press your cheek against his and stare out the window of his apartment. Your gaze settles somewhere in the distance as you try to memorize the feel of his body pressed up against yours.

You curl your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging absentmindedly as you say, “I’m glad that worked out, I didn’t even know you were home.”

He pulls away from you to fix you with a look that is so quintessentially Max, “you have my location on your phone, you’re always stalking me,” he says, punctuating his words with little jabs to your shoulder.

It’s true, and you honestly don’t know why you didn’t try to check his location in the first place, your logic getting lost somewhere in the panic of knowing that he loved you. 

“Mhmm.” You shrug noncommittally, trying very hard to ignore the rushing feeling of warmth in your chest that comes with the realization that Max was so ingrained in your life and you in his from the start. 

You try not to think about the fact your toothbrush sits next to his in his bathroom, about the fact that your hand automatically gravitates to his favorite spoon in your cutlery drawer, the one you can identify solely based on the weight of it in your hand. You try very hard to think about how you couldn’t separate the love from the friendship.

It was always gonna be you and Max. 

There’s a silence between you for a moment. You try to match your breath to his and let the sounds of outside filter through your ears. And for a moment you can hear how the rest of the world keeps turning, even when your world has stopped spinning on its axis.

“So, what now?” Max asks, turning his head to press kisses to your hairline, his hand squeezing your waist. You can feel his nose brush against your temple as he makes his way down, lips featherlight on your skin. The intimacy of it makes your blood sing with electricity. 

You pull “Mhmm, you could take me to bed?”

It’s half serious, half a joke. You’ve waited so long to have Max like this that now that you finally do you want him in all ways possible. But still, there’s some young and girlish part of you that wants it to be special.

Max pretends to think about it for a little bit and it’s so impossibly silly that you have to resist the urge to strangle him again for it, “it’s three in the afternoon, I think it’s a little early for sleep.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, stop being a smartass.”

Max smiles, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together. “Well,” he says, “how about I send you home so you can get all nice and pretty for me and then I’ll come pick you up and take you to a nice dinner, hmm?”

You flush, not just from the way he pours honey, slow and sweet, into your ear, but from the way it feels like this was always meant to be. Like you were always meant to have this, always meant to have him. 

“And then,” he says, dropping your hand to pull you in by your belt loops so your hips are press flush against his, “after dinner, that’s when I’ll take you to bed.”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #mv1 fic #mv33 fic #mv1 x you #mv33 x you #max verstappen #mv1 #mv33 #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic

[rainydayathogwarts]

Watch don't touch - Eddie (bf) x reader x Steve

Behold, the Eddie munson fic that will break the internet... Summary: Eddie loves to show people what they want but can't have. Steve just happens to want you, Eddie's precious girlfriend. Warnings: Semi-public sex, voyeurism, hand job, fingering. 1.7k wc

"Have you guys had sex yet?" The question comes from Steve, pointedly looking at you and Eddie cuddling on the floor, your backs leant on the outside couch in Steve's big backyard, the cool wind causing ripples in the perfectly blue pool. Robin snorts from where she sits on the couch above you, but you're all too drunk to notice that the question might be too personally invasive. "Well... mhm-" You start, not knowing how to give him a proper answer. "Technically," Eddie cuts in "No. But many orgasms have been involved in this relationship." Nancy straightens up from where she's sat facing you guys "What so you're just constantly giving each other head?"

You can almost feel Eddie grin widely, the hand resting on your hip giving it a soft squeeze. "I mean that, amongst other things. But you can't blame me, you'd be in the same position if you got a taste of this pussy." The way Eddie delivers the line almost takes away the sexual nature of his words, but you gasp in shock nonetheless, separating from him slightly to slap him on the arm. Eddie laughs at the attempt to silently scold him, instead leaning down to press his lips to yours in a kiss you immediately reciprocate. You're both too busy exchanging saliva to notice the way both Robin and Steve perk up at Eddie's words, now tempted by you.

They unashamedly stare while you kiss, ignoring the scoff Nancy gives them, with the quiet mutter of "pervs", though it seems she doesn't look away either. The first words to come out of Eddie's mouth when you break the kiss are "You should see how loud she gets when you hit the right spot. I'd let you have a taste, but no one gets to touch my girl." It's the way that Eddie holds eye contact with you even though his words are aimed at Steve that has your juices pooling in your panties and your thighs unconsciously clench, exposed by your short denim skirt just enough to attract the eyes of the onlookers. "Eddie." Your whisper comes out as more of a whine, and you feel your cheeks flush. You turn towards him, both hands coming up to clutch his arm as you dig your face into his shoulder.

One of his hands slithers down to rest in between your thighs, dangerously high to your pussy, already radiating heat from how horny you are. "She gets shy now but later... a whole different person, aren't you sweetheart?" He pecks your lips quickly and you whine louder than you should when he pulls away. "No one gets to touch your girl but it seems you're pretty intent on showing her off." Eddie hums in agreement at Steve's comment, leaning down to pepper kisses on your neck. "Love showing people what they want but can't have." His words come out muffled against your skin and tickle your neck slightly so you squirm away from him, but both of his strong arms wrap around your waist before you can get far and pull you back against his front.

"What do you want Steve?" The loud sigh that comes from him has you both peering up at him curiously, only to find him staring directly at you. "What I can't have." He brings up his can of beer to take a big gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. You feel the blood rush to your face at his shameless reply, glancing up at Eddie when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "You like that answer sweetheart? King Steve wants you so bad." Impossibly, you feel your face flush even more, shifting to try and hide your face away in your boyfriend's chest.

There's a long pause that follows, in which Eddie and Steve exchange a very specific look. The loud doorbell of Steve's rich parents' house rings, breaking everyone out of their weird trance and Nancy scrambles up to get it, yelling out "Robin that's our ride!" Robin hesitates, taking her time to follow the other girl, and Eddie wastes no time in digging his face in the crook of your neck, immediately nibbling at the soft skin, pressing kisses in between. The sound of the door slamming shut is Eddie's go sign for his hands to start wandering. "Eds" You breathe out, legs unconsciously spreading slightly.

Steve's eyes widen as Eddie reaches for the zipper of your skirt, carefully beginning to tug the denim fabric down your legs. Lifting your hips up, you use your boyfriend's strong torso as support as you kick at your skirt to finally free your legs. Surprisingly, you don't feel at all exposed in front of Steve, rather comfortable in his presence. "Steve?" You enquire, cocking your head to the side at the look of shock on his face, his jaw completely slack. "You okay?" The second his head snaps back up to meet your gaze, he's frantically nodding for you to go on, so Eddie waste no time snaking his fingers down your bright red lace panties.

"So naughty wearing a red thong under such a short skirt. Did you want Steve to see them?" Eddie whispers in your ear, his breath hot on your neck. You moan at his quiet question, your hips involuntarily bucking when he finds your clit, beginning to tease you. "Spread your legs for me baby." He says, this time loud enough for Steve, who's intently watching, to hear the comment. Fixing your gaze on the blushing man, you can't help but stare at the obvious bulge in his pants, licking your lips slightly while obeying your boyfriend's command.

Easily, Eddie manhandles you so that you directly face Steve, allowing him a perfect view of Eddie's hand teasing you under your lace panties. "How about I get rid of this?" He mutters, and your eyes snap wide open at the sound of fabric ripping. "Eddie!" You whine, but you can't stay mad because that's the moment he decides to stop teasing you, instead using your juices as a lubricant to slip two fingers into your hole. You gasp out a moan, throwing your head back onto your boyfriend's shoulder, but it seems for a moment that you don't have his full attention anymore.

Steve looks like a deer caught in headlights when you look up, catching him palming his dick through his thick jeans. "Why don't you give yourself a little more space to breathe, yeah Stevie?" Eddie enjoys teasing him, despite knowing that having you all spread out in front of him without being able to touch you is punishment enough. "Fuck." You mutter, rolling your hips against Eddie's hand to match his slowing rhythm. "Please Stevie." Your plea is enough for Steve to hurriedly unzip his jeans, freeing his hard dick, which slaps the bottom of his abdomen angrily. You try squeezing your legs for more friction but Eddie tuts, using his free hand to pull your left leg as far to the side as he can, finally speeding up when he sees Steve finally grabbing his dick to play with himself properly.

"Can't come until Stevie does, okay sweetheart?" A whine comes out instead of an answer, your eyes shut in satisfaction. It's only when you feel a hand on your face, barely squeezing your cheeks together that you nod, murmuring an "Okay, okay Eds." Your eyes trail to where Steve's hand is quickly moving up and down his cock, then down to where Eddie's hand is vigorously going in and out of you, the palm of his hand making a loud slapping sound every time it hits your clit. You silently pray for Steve to come as fast as he can because with Eddie's pace, there's no way you're gonna hold off.

With a sudden realisation that your boyfriend is the only one not receiving some source of pleasure, you snake a hand between your back and Eddie's stomach, blindly looking for his dick, which you know for certain is painfully hard. "What you looking for sweetheart?" You hear your boyfriend ask you amidst all the pleasure. "Y'r cock." You slur, moaning as he begins rubbing circles on your clit. Steve must be close, you realise, looking back up at the other boy, who jerks himself off, eyes stuck on you and your boyfriend. "God, you're so big Stevie." You praise, grinning when he whines loudly, hips bucking up into his hand.

"Are you gonna cum for me?" You press on, noticing the effect your words have on him. "Cum for me- oh God-" Your words are cut off from your own pleasure, bucking your hips up into Eddie's hand after he sends a harsh slap to your clit with his free hand. He's warning you not to go too far. "Cum for me Stevie." The boy in front of you moans your name repeatedly, and Eddie's hand becomes more aggressive on your pussy, pushing you towards your orgasm, the tight knot in your stomach finally snapping. "Eddie! Oh Eddie, I-fuck!" Eddie's hand pushes your face in his direction, and he presses his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss full of tongue and saliva as he begins to slow his movements on your cunt, riding out your orgasm.

You pant and moan into the kiss, turning to face him completely once he removes his hand from your pussy, wrapping both your arms over his shoulders to try and deepen the kiss. His hands play with your ass, and he's trying to subtly grind you over his dick, the tent in his pants obvious. Finally, you pull away from him, turning to face Steve, who has cum covering the bottom of his shirt as well as his black boxers. He sits there watching you both, trying to catch his breath. When you pull on your skirt, having abandoned the ripped panties, you walk over to Steve, putting a hand on his shoulder for comfort, and you lean in to press a kiss on his cheek. "I think that was the most intense orgasm I've ever had." He admits, smiling when Eddie barks out a laugh.

"Look man, this was really nice, but I'm so hard I can barely move, so I think me and Y/N should go." It's you and Steve's turn to laugh, and you clamber up to your feet, slipping your feet into your sandals before speeding up to catch up with your boyfriend.

#stranger things #stranger things fics #rainydayathogwarts #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #stranger things smut #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie x steve #eddie x you #steve x eddie #steve x you #steddie

[latenightdaydreams]

Had a dream

Recruits make a bet on who can scare Colonel König

first. Money for the winner. Stupid idea I know lol

Got me thinking about

Hiding under his desk when hes out of his office. Him coming back later and locking his door. Sitting down in his chair. Just as your about to grab his leg to scare him he undoes his belt and pants.

Recruit wants his cock in their mouth

This isn't stupid at all! Sounds like a porn set up haha

Let's Make a Bet (g/n)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: bets, voyeurism, oral, mention of sex, masturbation

1.2k word count

.

.

Colonel König is a stoic man, never showing any emotions. Never laughs at jokes, crying at sad moments, or even showing fear when face to face with death. The man is made of stone. That’s when you and another recruit got the stupid idea to try and scare him; whoever wins gets $200. Shaking hands, you both accepted the challenge.

Your fellow recruit first tried something small and simple, a tarantula in the break room. König simply looked at it, picked it up, and walked it outside, totally confused. Small pranks like these didn’t shake the man so you decided to turn it up a notch.

When you knew König would be out of his office running drills, you decided to sneak into his office. Your heart pounds as you enter. You’re small enough to fit comfortably so you crawl under the large wooden desk and wait.

A half hour passes before you hear the door open, König muttering about things in German as he locks the door behind him. He walks over to his desk chair and sits down, facing sideways. You wait until he turns to try and scare him. 

You hear the clicking sound of his mouse and occasionally the keyboard when finally, he turns to face you. You wait a little while trying to suppress your giggles from the excitement. König types quickly and then relaxes back in his chair.

Just as you’re about to grab his legs, his hand moves to his belt buckle and you watch as he unbuckles his belt. His hand unbuttoning his cargos before pulling his zipper down. You watch as he pulls out his flaccid dick, which looks like your boyfriends fully erect. The smell of his natural musk after a long day of sweating fills the space. Instantly you feel yourself getting turned as you watch in anticipation. 

From his computer, you hear soft sounds of moaning and you realize he is watching porn. His cock slowly getting erect, he grabs it and pulls the foreskin back, exposing his bright pink head. His hand begins to lazily stroke himself unaware that you’re under the desk watching. His cock is massive, porn star huge, and you’d love nothing more than to know what it feels like.

With one of your hands, you slowly begin to rub yourself through your pants, your own arousal growing by the second as you watch his hand begin to move faster. Small moans leaving König’s lips as you see precum begin to drip from his tip. His other hand came down to tug on his balls. 

You feel an overwhelming want to just suck his cock. Taste how his bitter cum would taste on the tip of your tongue. Trying to decide where to go from here, you just continue to watch as you please yourself. 

König’s hand slows as he moves the one from his balls back to his mouse and seems to be looking for a different video to watch. You take a deep breath, one you think König heard, so you gently rest your hands on his lap.

You won the bet; König jumps in his seat and screams like a small child as he kicks his desk back. He looks down and sees you.

“I’m sorry I know this looks so weird,” you begin to explain in almost a panicked ramble.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” König shouts, his mask hiding his red face full of embarrassment.

 “I- I,” you stumble over your words before deciding to just be bold, “I want to suck your cock.”

“What?” König’s defensive demeanor changes slightly as he hears your words. He couldn’t believe his ears. He always found you attractive, so to be put in this situation, he feels as if this is a dream. 

“Let me help you cum.” You look at his hand trying to cover himself.

He looks down at his cock losing its erection because of the fear, and then up at you with desire in your eyes.

“Are- are you serious?” He sounds slightly unsure.

“I am…”

König sits for a while before he nods his head and motions for you to move out from under the desk. You crawl forward and kneel before him. 

His piercing blue eyes gaze down at you as you inch closer to his cock, his hand slowly moving to the side so you can grasp it with your own. He lets out a soft shuddering breath as you do. You slowly stroke his cock as you look up at him, his eyes have softened.

You lower your head and pull his foreskin back before flicking your tongue on the tip of his cock. König’s breathing begins to pick up, his eyes shifting to the frozen porn and then back to you.

“Can you take your shirt off?” He asks feeling a little nervous asking for something extra.

You gladly lean back and pull your shirt off, König looks over your body and smirks under his mask. Your skin looks so soft and beautiful. As you lean back down and begin to lick his cock again. He reaches out and begins to caress your bare shoulders and down your arms, you feel as soft as you look.

Holding his cock up, you lick his balls. Gently taking one into your mouth at a time and sucking on them while on of your hands strokes his cock. Your tongue licking them all over, making them slobbery before moving your attention back to his cock.

You wrap your lips around his cock finally and he lets out a soft moan. You lower your head on his length, taking in a few inches, sucking as you bob your head. König looks down at you, eyebrows pinched beneath his mask.

“Just like that Schatz,” He leans his head back and closes his eye; letting the waves of pleasure take over.

One of his hands moves to the back of your head and gently pets your hair, resisting the urge to shove your head down farther on his cock. The room filled with the sound of your mouth desperately wanting to please him and his small moans.

Your hands grasp his thighs as you push your head down further, making yourself gag. His hand applies slight pressure to help you get his girthy cock into your tight throat. His hips bucking upwards slightly as spit begins to pool at the corners of your stretched lips. He looks down at you and stares in awe at you before his eyes travel down what he can see of your body.

He looks back at the frozen porn of a woman bent over and he looks back at you. Your eyes looking up at him noticing his want. Slowly releasing his cock from your mouth, a line of spit connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

König doesn’t speak, just nods. His eyes look as if they’re glossed over with a lustful daze. You stand up in front of him, his eyes traveling down your body. You begin to undress in front of him. His hand reaches out and caresses your hips before standing himself, his pants dropping to his ankles. He grabs your waist and turns you around, pushing you gently down onto his desk. Your face touching the cold wood as you feel excitement rush through your body. He steps behind you and squeezes your ass before lining himself up with you.

You won the $200 bet and get to experience your first BWC, it’s been a pretty good night.

#konig #konig x reader #könig #konig x y/n #konig cod #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x reader smut #konig x you #konig x gn!reader #könig call of duty #könig x gn!reader #könig x gn reader #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig x reader smut

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs

[thefangirlfever]

MIGUEL O'HARA x reader (18+, smut) MDNI

firefighter AU🧑‍🚒🔥🚒

Art credit: @kit-and-wolfe on Tumblr

Summary: You and Miguel are dating and he had hidden from you that he took part to a fireman’s calendar.

Notes: Just a silly idea I got from seeing multiple great firefighter Aus and a conversation with I had with @lazyjellyfish300 about Miguel! firefighter getting flustered. This story is a direct continuation of this post.

Tags: smut, F/M, AU, Firefighter AU, cunnilingus, PIV penetration, established relationship, fingering, no plot just smut, horny FMC, dirty talk (may be cringe), mention of masturbation (F/M), aftercare, breast and nipple play, hint at size kink, discussion around contraception

Word count: 3858 words

April was now your favorite month of the year. Most people would think that it was because you were excited about the upcoming Spring, the Sun in the sky and all those things, or maybe it was your birthday’s month. But you were unfortunately more pragmatic.

No, it was simply that the picture on your calendar for this month was to die for. Lying on glazed paper, in A4 format, a hand on his hip and his helmet on the other a tall, stupidly handsome man was looking at the camera with a bedroom look in his eyes. Firefighters have never been your thing, and you even considered it weird that a whole profession could be fetishized in a way or another but...that was different. You had to admit that you kind of see the appeal of it now. Honestly, this man could be anything else than a firefighter and you would probably still get the hots while looking at his picture.

Abs for days, rock hard chest with the right amount of thick, curly black hair that lazily trailed down toward a mouth-watering happy trail (that could only let you presume of a thick, happy bush), the infamous V-line that made his hips dip sensually under oily skin… Well, they really went all out with this picture. It was probably a bit edited but still...They even left his five o’clock shadow and the scar on his left arm. Good. Very good. That’s some professional job, you could tell.

You could have spend hours looking at this picture and still find new details about it. In fact the idea was very tempting, hence why your calendar was still stuck on the month of April despite being already mid-August. The calendar was pinned on your fridge and you could look at it every time you would cook or eat, which was exactly what you were doing right now. Well, at least you were trying because as soon as you would try to bring your fork to your mouth, your eyes would land again on the perfect picture.

The fact that you knew the model didn’t help at all your trouble.

You had met Miguel a few months ago through joined acquaintances and you didn’t even know he was a firefighter at the time. He would rarely speak about his job, not even to complain about it. And certainly not to brag. You quickly realized that he was quite secretive and shy when it came to his private life. It was very rare, almost impossible to hear him brag and he didn’t really take compliments very well. No idea where this insecurity could come from. He was quite a catch honestly, not even speaking physically. Miguel was overall someone nice and caring, as if his job didn’t already convey this trait of his personality enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you got along very well. When he was devoted to the well-being of most people and selfless, you were selfish, pragmatic and even a bit bitter. He was the type of person who would wake up at 4 in the morning to help the others and you were the type of person who after waking up at 10 am would shamelessly ogle the picture of a half-naked man, wondering about the size of his…

Your phone softly buzzed, taking you out your daydream. As soon as Miguel’s name appeared on the screen, you came back to your senses and picked up the phone.

“Hi…”

“Were you still sleeping?”, he asked with an amused voice. While most people would find you lazy, Miguel had simply accepted that your lifestyle was not his and that you were more of a night owl. This doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t tease you from time to time about it.

You rubbed your hand over your tired eyes and groaned into the phone:

“No...I was...eating...is there a problem?”

“You left your sweater in my car yesterday. I thought I could come give it back to you after training.”

Your brain took a few seconds to understand his words but when it did, your eyes opened wide and you jumped to your feet, scurrying toward the front door.

“You’re already here?”

“Well, I was in the neighborhood and I thought I could stop by. I also brought breakfast since I thought you would have just waken up…”

He sounded almost apologetic as if he had dragged you of bed. Your heart stammered into your chest and a stupid grin curled up your lips. Sweet, selfless Miguel. How did he manage to always make your cold demeanor crumble? That was a mystery to you.

You opened the door and there, stood Miguel, a large bag of edibles in his arm, your sweater perfectly folded in a small bag while he was still holding his phone. And as if the sight of him wasn’t sweet enough already, he was still wearing his athleisure clothes, ie a tank top and loose grey shorts. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat and his brown locks were stuck to his temples and the back of his neck. A treat for the eyes.

The moment he saw you in your sleepwear, he turned off his phone and a small blush crept up his face. You were only wearing a short and a tank top but he didn’t mind. That was...quite a nice view.

“Well, you are definitely awake.”, he joked quietly as you made sign for him to enter the apartment. “I was afraid that I would wake you up.”

You could definitely wake me up anytime you want.

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine.” You grabbed the bag he was handing you with your sweater inside. It was neatly folded, even better than what you would usually do to your clothes. You might as well invite him over to share breakfast with you. Miguel gladly accepted and followed you to the kitchen and as much as he tried to be a gentleman his eyes would always end up following the sway of your hips and the very appealing bounce of your butt. He started to feel a bit tight in his shorts and this feeling only increased when he noticed that you weren’t wearing a bra under your top. He cleared his throat, trying to chase those thoughts away; it was too early in the morning for this.

“I found this small french bakery down the block and I thought you would like to try these…”, he said while putting down the bag on the central island of the kitchen. The buzzing sound of the coffee machine filled the air just when you replied to him:

“Oh yeah, I actually wanted to try this one. Thanks.”

And now your nipples were pointing under the shirt.

Great.

This definitely didn’t help the situation down his pants and he wisely chose to advert his gaze...only to fall on the dreaded picture he hoped you would never hear about. A rush of color filled up his cheeks and he was practically sure he wasn’t half-hard or hard at all anymore. What was this thing doing here?

You turned around to put his mug of coffee down the counter and that’s when you noticed where his eyes were. Not on you, unfortunately, but on the calendar.

Shit!

You didn’t even bother to put it on the right month. Hopefully Miguel would take it as it is, a compliment. But the moment you saw his brows furrow and his jaw tighten, you had a serious doubt.

“Hum...Miguel?”

He didn’t respond at first and when he looked back in your direction, he still seemed very ashamed, almost mortified. A pink hue was covering his cheeks and the back of his ears. Seems like you were going to have a lot of fun...

“Yes?”

You let the silence last a bit more before replying: “Is there a problem?”

“No. No...why would there be any problem?”

“Because you’re all red in the face suddenly. I was wondering if something was making you feel uncomfortable…”, you asked innocently. At this point of your relationship, he should know better. He should know what this coy tone meant but he still fell in the trap: “It’s just… Where did you even get this calendar?”

“Does it bother you?”

“No...it’s just...a bit tacky. I didn’t think you would like something like this…”, he replied in a sheepish voice. If you knew any better than this, that man was flustered.

“It’s practical.”, you simply reply with a shrug of your shoulders, dismissing the embarrassment in his voice. Miguel awkwardly chuckled: “Then why is it stuck on April?”

“Touché.”, you replied with a sly grin. You then took a sip of your coffee and his eyes wouldn’t leave the shape of your lips molding against the edge of the cup or the way your eyes still looked at him under your lashes, as if you were a cat playing with a mouse. All this little game was making him feel hot under the collar and he nervously ran his hand through his hair.

“Maybe...I just like the picture.”, his eyes were trying to avoid your gaze but they would eventually flutter back to the alluring shape of your silhouette. “Maybe...this is just making me feel curious.”

He didn’t need to ask about what it made you feel curious. Your tone was already giving him enough hints and he could only sheepishly chuckle, almost giggling while the red in his cheeks intensified. “You can’t be serious…”

“What if I am?”

Your blunt answer took him by surprise and you took this short moment to move a bit closer to him but still keeping your hands to yourself, even if the urge to rest them against his body was becoming stronger by the minute.

You had just been thinking about this these last weeks. Ever since you brought that calendar back home, all you could think about was the moment you would get to lay on top of him, run your hands down his abdomen, unto some more exciting territory, crossing every single line. The image of his body would haunt you during your alone time, making you wish it was his hands bending you, making you scream and turning you into some drained but satisfied mush.

His breath faltered when your fingers hovered above the soft cotton of his sweater. The fabric clung to his body, drawing out the shape and relief of his build silhouette, all in sharp angles and dips like some statue.

“Maybe I want to see a bit more..."

Your fingers trailed down his torso, from his chest to his abdomen and you could feel the way his heartbeat quickened as well as the way his body tensed and arched into your touch, yielding against your fingers. The hard contour of his silhouette was being traced, made more noticeable for your eyes and your eyes only. Your hungry gaze made him feel wanted in a way he didn’t know was possible; a special talent of yours. Standing there, still covered in sweat and fresh out of his training, he couldn’t believe you still wanted him. And yet…

“You want to see more?”, he asked under his breath and with a quick nod from you, he took your hands guided them over his body.

Your fingers soon slipped under the fabric of his tank top and you rose on your tip toes in an attempt to kiss him. Given the height difference between you, he quickly opted for the easiest solution. His arms scooped you up and placed your body on top of the counter, shortening the distance between you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you didn’t waste a single second to pull him closer to you but you still managed to surprise him. He was not expecting for your lips to aim for his shoulder rather than his mouth and with a low groan, he welcomed the caress of your lips onto his skin as you traced your way up his neck.

The pressure of his fingers grew tighter on your sides as this make-out session turned steamier. Your nipping on his neck made him react almost immediately. His fingers slid down lower on your body and soon gave your ass a firm squeeze. He needed to get you out of these shorts and quickly. Your soft whimper onto his neck told him he was doing everything right and his hands kept kneading your soft rear while your own diligent hands removed his top, leaving your eyes free to feast on the sight of his after-work body. Every word you uttered seemed to get straight to his cock as he felt it practically twitch every time you would breathe a bit harder on his skin or tell him how nice he felt, how gorgeous he was.

“Lay down...just...get on your back…”, his breath was a bit more labored as he helped you lying down the counter. You were pinned under him when his hands finally lifted up your top, exposing your perky breasts. He had spent so much time fantasizing about them, this morning only they had been on his mind almost all-workout. Last night during your date, he couldn’t get his eyes out of them as soon as you would look away and they had been tempting too much since he entered your apartment. The perky mounds stuck out, resting on your chest like a crown, the tanned lines from your bikini making them stand out even more proudly. After a few seconds spent admiring them, he dipped his head onto the soft cleavage presented to him, not doing anything else than resting his face there at first.

Your hands stroked his hair, pulling him closer into your embrace and you began grinding your hips onto his aching cock. The shape of his erection was visible under the grey fabric as it strained against it, begging for release. He would wait. He always waited. There was no need to rush with someone like you. Even when he was alone, he would always take his time fantasizing about the endless possibilities of your body rather than bringing himself to climax quickly. There was no such thing as a quickie with him and today was no exception. He will focus on every single part of your body, take his time to taste it, to enjoy it to the fullest...no matter if it made his dick throb and swell with more and more arousal. No matter if he would end up practically whimpering while getting his face stuck in your pussy later.

Miguel nuzzled his face further onto your breasts. His face was smothered between your breasts, his lips occasionally licking and sucking on their plump flesh. Low growls would escape his lips every time his lips circled around one of your perky nipples, sucking in deeply, swirling his tongue around the rigid nub and the puffy areola. His hands were holding your waist where the hem of your pants slopped down, exposing your waist.

“Eres tan deliciosa...can’t wait to get more of you...”

His nose trails down the line of your abdomen, running over smooth skin while his thumbs rub in circle the skin over your sides. He tugged at the hem of your shorts with his teeth, silently pleading to get more of you.

“May I?” You groaned a small “yes” and he finally pulled down your shorts. When he nuzzled his nose onto your panties, pressing it right where your slit would be, your hips bucked. He giggled at your eager response.

“Sorry about that.”, you quickly apologized but he dismissed the said apology with a caress of his hand on your thigh, soothing your worry.

“There’s no need to worry.” He then pressed a soft kiss under your belly button and hummed, his breath warm on your skin: “You’re such a needy little thing sometimes.”

“I’m not needy.”, you replied with a growing blush.

“Mhh...who’s been keeping a calendar of half-naked men in her kitchen again?” His brow cocked in a teasing manner as he trailed a line of warm kisses all the day down to your entrance. Your breath hitched and you arched your back in response to his teasing:

“Are you going to remind me of this for a long time?”

“Yes.”

His hooked finger pushed your panties aside and he basked in the musky scent of your arousal, watching how your pubes glistened with arousal.

“Someone feeling jealous over there?”, you teased him which only earned you a chuckle.

“I have no reason to be jealous…”, his hands slipped under your butt and he lifted up a bit your body until your legs were wrapped around his neck, “...and I’m going to show you why.”

His lips dived into your parted legs, his mouth molding to the shape of your vulva as he suckled in deeply. Your essence spurted into his mouth, making you writhe slightly. His nose rubbed onto your clit while he swirled his tongue deeper between your slick folds. His cock was aching down his sweatpants, burning to be free and soon replacing his tongue.

As he kept lapping and sucking on your cunt, he slowly edged you until you couldn’t hold it anymore. The sound of you moaning and cooing his name was the sweetest reward he could get for his hard work; until you came undone. He could feel how close he was too to just climax, here and there on the spot. The sight of you, spread on the counter with your clothes ruffled and your puffy clit, throbbing and begging for more.

“Feeling good, mama?”, he softly asked while placing a soft peck on your thigh.

“Bedroom now.” Your enthusiasm made him giggle again and he kept placing soft pecks all over your face and shoulders while carrying you to the bedroom. Your eager hands slipped under the hem of his sweatpants and tried to grab a hold of his butt. As much as you liked this calendar, it was a shame it didn’t pay proper homage to the glorious work of art this man’s buttocks were.

Miguel finally let you go down the bed and slipped out of his sweatpants. He was rummaging through the nightstand, looking for the pack of condoms you always kept there.

You watched in awe as he tore open a condom and swiftly lowered his boxers. His cock sprung free, the tip almost slapping his lower belly as some precum already dripped from the swollen tip. His fingers quickly put on the condom and when he caught your gaze on him, he stopped, a sheepish smile on his lips: “Everything alright?”

“That was just the sexiest thing I’ve ever see you doing.” A sympathetic look took over his features as he crawled on top of you, peppering your face with soft kisses. It was probably the first time you’ve had a boyfriend who didn’t reluctantly put on a condom and who accepted that you just couldn’t put an IUD or take the pill. This was as refreshing as it was sexy and the delicate attention always made you feel grateful, no matter how much Miguel would tell you that it was nothing.

“How do you want to do this?”, he asked with his lips still pressed on your temple.

“I want to see you.” Your response seemed to please him a lot because he quickly obliged and soon you found yourself attached to one another, with his arms pinning you onto the bed while he kept moving back and forth between your warm walls. Every move he made was followed by a deep, throaty grunt on his side.

“Feeling good, sweetheart?”

You could only moan back at his question, wrapping yourself tightly around him as he was thrusting deeper into you. The heat between your two bodies was becoming unbearable as time went on and it only became stronger when he slipped his hand down your stomach and began toying with your clit.

“Gonna cum for me, okay sweetie? I want to make you feel so good…” The slight desperation in his tone didn’t go unnoticed on your side. He wanted nothing more but for you to remember this moment every time you would look at his picture. He wanted you to be as whipped for him as he was for you, completely and utterly transfixed.

“Miguel…” He knew what it meant when you cried out his name like that. It meant you were close and he made his mission to guide you through it with his fingers rubbing circles faster on your already sensitive and swollen clit.

“That’s it baby...just like that…”

Your body tensed and your grip on him tightened as he felt you reaching your climax. His praise didn’t stop soon and he kept placing soft pecks all over your face, especially around your furrowed brows, one thing he found adorable in these moments.

It took the two of your some time to calm down after this moment. Miguel had brought you back a towel from the bathroom to clean yourself and two glasses of water. It was a bit hot since it was the middle of the summer and he knew too well the risks of dehydration. However this didn’t stop him from cuddling with you, his arms tightly wrapped around your body, one hand tracing the curve of your hips, following the slope of it like a traveler climbing up a mountain. His eyes marveled at your body in silence, looking at the way the sweat had coated your skin. When he kissed the sensitive spot of skin behind your ear and playfully nuzzled his face into it, you squirmed a bit. But it was not enough to escape his grip and you just managed to rub yourself even more against him:

“Miguel...it’s already too hot. And I’m gross like that.”

Your words could have as well be heard by a deaf because he didn’t stop his kissing. In fact he even nuzzles his face lower on your body, his nose following the curve of your clavicle while he mumbled:

“You’re not gross. You’re perfect like that…”

You were glad he didn’t catch the blush that was blooming on your cheeks: “It’s still too hot for that…” But your protest wasn’t very convincing and none of you moved a single inch. It would soon be too hot to go out or even do anything at this point and your body succumbed to the promise of a lazy, indolent afternoon, resting in the arms of your lover.

================================================

Notes: Thanks for reading this story! I hope you liked it. it's been a while since I've written smutty one-shot so I needed some time to get back on track. Hope it doesn't feel too awkward.

🌻🌻🌻

My masterlist

#atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #fanfic #miguel x reader #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miguel 2099 #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara au

[puck-luck]

calling quinn “captain” in bed and he goes feral

warnings: emosh quinn, sex as comfort HIII, masturbation (fingering), wee bit of dirty talk, riding, unprotected p in v, use of "captain" pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader summary: the one where quinn comes home after the 'nucks are knocked out of the playoffs (i am not manifesting!!) and he and his girl make up for the time missing each other. wc: 1601

The playoffs had come to an end with a simmer for the Canucks. Quinn, who had led his team to so many victories throughout the season, was headed home after game seven of the second round– just narrowly missing the finals for the Stanley Cup.

You had called him briefly after the game, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He had been quiet, listening to you speak about your day– a topic that he himself had requested, so unhappy with his game that he didn’t even want to acknowledge the fact that he played hockey for a living.

Listening to you talk about the book that you read that day, the walk that you had gone on with your best friend, and the annoying conversation you had to have with your boss that you hate made him feel like he was just a normal guy for a day.

Now, with him on the way home, you were ready to comfort him in any way that you could.

And it started by making him forget about his problems in the way that only you were allowed to do.

That’s why you were waiting on your couch, naked, legs spread and a finger on your clit. Quinn was due to walk through the door at any minute and the first thing you wanted him to see when he walked into his apartment was his girlfriend waiting for him.

Quinn mused about your beauty all the time, whether it was in public or just to you or just to himself. He had told you many times over the course of his relationship that though you were beautiful all the time, there was nothing like the way you looked underneath him as his cock thrust inside you. 

Tonight, he would certainly be inside you. You were just hoping that you’d be the one on top of him, taking care of him, making him feel good.

The lock flipped as Quinn unlocked the door, making you perk up and tilt your head with innocent eyes at the front door. 

“Hi, Q,” You greeted.

Quinn had crossed the threshold with his head down, dragging his suitcase behind him. His face was soft when he looked up at you, placated like he was happy to see you but still so, so sad. Then, his eyes fixed on your fingers, the ones that were running up and down your glistening slit.

“Hi,” Quinn replied, seeming frozen in place. His eyes darted between yours and your fingers.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” You said. You reached up to pinch a nipple between the fingers of your other hand, watching Quinn’s eyes follow your movements.

He shrugged off his jacket, toed off his shoes. “Anything in particular?” He asked.

“Been missing your cock, Q. I’ve been feeling so empty without you around to fill me up.”

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Quinn shifted his weight from one foot to the other, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. 

As the expanse of his chest appeared to you, the light dusting of hair that you loved so much, you moaned softly and pushed a finger inside yourself. It was smaller than Quinn’s, and the angle was always weird when you fingered yourself, and it was hard to get any real pleasure without getting your other hand on your clit, but it was worth seeing the look on Quinn’s face and the way his pants tightened.

“I tried my fingers, Q. I tried my toys. They just– oh– they weren’t as good as you.”

“Fuck, I missed you,” Quinn said, crossing the room and kneeling over you. “That mouth, so dirty, baby.”

You leaned up, capturing Quinn’s soft lips with your own. The kiss was wet, both of you trying to convey just how much you had wanted each other while Quinn was gone without saying a single word. Your finger never ceased moving inside of you, although Quinn had started to rub over your clit. You worked in tandem, comfortably, making your body roll into the pressure. Your movements, and his, were slow, savoring the fact that you were together again and would be for nearly the whole off season.

“I want to ride you,” You breathed into Quinn’s mouth, so quiet that he would practically have to taste the words on his tongue to understand you.

He did, though. Of course he understood what you said. He knew immediately, with the way he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you with him as he sat back onto the couch. He fumbled with his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down his thighs just enough that they were out of the way. 

You sank down on his cock as soon as he pressed it against your opening, your mouth falling open with the sensation.You panted into Quinn’s mouth as you began to lift yourself up and down. 

Quinn’s hands were resting on your hips, doing nothing except acting as a presence, something to anchor you as you rose and fell on his length. 

“Feel so good,” Quinn praised, transfixed by the way your hair was framing your face and the way you bit your bottom lip when you found your g-spot without his help. “Was this what you imagined while I was gone, doll?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You agreed. “Fuck, Quinn, I needed you to take care of me.”

His heart quivered in his chest at that, those words meaning more to him than so many of the things you could have said when he came home. 

“I’m here,” Quinn assured you, his fingers pressing into your skin, grabbing and enveloping the shape of your hipbones. “Gonna take care of you forever.”

“So good.” You began to bounce up and down harder, more quickly, relishing in the way Quinn’s skin slapped against yours. “Q,” You whined, clutching at the muscles of his shoulder, one hand pressing against his chest. “Quinn, I’m gonna come, oh, Captain…”

All the breath flew out of Quinn like it was stolen from his lungs, squeezed like a tube of toothpaste that had just one more use left in it. It was like his vision went dark, the word echoing in his head. Captain, captain, captain.

Quinn’s hips moved of their own accord. His hands, having once rested delicately on your hips, were now clutching your ass desperately. 

“My girl, fuck, need me to take charge like I do on the ice? Need your captain to fill you up ‘cuz you can’t make yourself feel good? Have I spoiled you that much?” Quinn rambled, fucking into you with earnest. 

He brought one hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. His hips were like a machine, fucking into you so well, so consistently. It was militant, Quinn able to play you like a violin after memorizing your body long, long ago.

You could only moan in response, the kiss of his cock against your walls, as strong as a heartbeat turning your mind to jelly. What was originally a night meant to tease Quinn, to prioritize him, had quickly devolved into a night of mind-numbing, leg-shaking pleasure for you.

“Looked so good, touching yourself when I walked in,” Quinn continued. “Such a pretty sight to walk into. You’re all mine, huh? Just needed me to come home and make you feel good? Show me what I was missing?”

“Quinn,” You whimpered.

“Captain,” He corrected.

“Captain,” You repeated, drawn out. As if hypnotized, you were willing to repeat back anything he said. “Can I come?”

Quinn groaned, gravelly in the back of his throat. He lifted you up and down to meet his thrusts, watching the way his cock disappeared inside of you. His eyes focused on the ring of your wetness around the base of his cock, the clear pool of juice that glinted on his abdomen in the light.

“Please,” You begged, your head finding the curve of his neck. “It’s so good, Cap. I need to come, please let me come.”

“Come, baby,” Quinn encouraged, his thrusts growing uncoordinated as you squeezed him. “Come with me.” With just a few more thrusts, Quinn felt himself burst, spurting inside of you. The aftershocks overtook him when you let out a sigh at the feeling of him, his warmth, filling you up in a way it hadn’t in so long that you’d missed so much. 

For a few minutes, you and Quinn just basked in the feeling of being reunited with the person you loved. 

“Captain,” He eventually said aloud, stating it like he was feeling out the way the word felt in his mouth. Quinn eyed you, raising a brow.

“I like the way you take care of your team,” You admitted. You reached out and toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling it around your finger. “Reminds me of how you take care of me.”

Quinn’s heart flipped in a funny way, something akin to heartbreak but so much warmer. “I love you so much,” He said, forcing the words out in a way that he hoped conveyed just how genuinely he felt them. 

You smiled, soft and sweet, and continued to play with his hair. You two sat there, on the couch in the presence of the other, until you lost track of time. Eventually, when you were blinking slowly and Quinn could feel your eyelashes beginning to flutter against his neck in a way that signaled your exhaustion, he picked you up and carried you to bed.

Always taking care of you.

note: ANOTHER MONDAY MORNING ONESHOT! I AM NOTHING IF NOT CONSISTENT ABOUT MONDAY MORNINGS! feeling like a fuckin pirate writing this captain shit (i love y'all and i looove reading captain kink fics (that one threesome between quinn and nico...) but i felt like a damn pirate! aye aye matey!) i'll stick to my daddy kink a-thank-yewwww also: game 4? in nash? holy shit! quinn's hair is so much darker in person and it looks so fluffy. he's pretty (and looks lost all the time) and also i never saw him make eye contact with anyone standing at the glass during warmups. also-also his tapejob on his socks was so weird? also also also: he was adjusting his gear literally every thirty seconds between whistles and no one else was– does your gear not fit, brother?

#puck-luck's fics #quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #andy writes anything🍄 #qh43

[wosoamazing]

Icky

Summary: You get bus sick. Warnings: Motion sickness, vomit

Today you were travelling to Manchester with the team on the bus. It was going to take 4 hours, if there wasn’t any traffic, so Lotte took you to the shops this morning to buy some things to keep you entertained on the bus.

You got to play on your iPad for a while before Lotte told you that you’d had enough screen time and she handed you some play doh to do, however after making several different shapes you got bored of the playdoh and asked for your colouring in, as you coloured in you started to feel icky, and your stomach started to feel kind of funny. 

-

“Lotte, I feel a little sick,” you admitted to her as you stopped your colouring in and wrapped your arms around your stomach.

“That’s not good, does your tummy hurt?” You nodded, causing Lotte to look at Alessia who stood up and walked towards the front of the bus, “well why don’t we put your colouring away and you can sit on my lap, and we could have a cuddle as you look outside, and maybe take some deep breaths.” you just nodded again and Lotte moved to pack up your crayons in your pencil case, she closed up your book and placed them in the middle of the table, before lifting you up and placing you in her lap, sideways, so that your side was leaning into her and you faced out the window. As you followed Lotte’s words you started feeling more and more sick, you hadn’t even noticed that Alessia had returned to her seat, handing Lotte the several sick bags and wet wipes the medics gave her. You were almost shaking as you tried to stop the sick feeling, and prevent the tears that were threatening to fall from doing so. You didn’t really know what being sick was like, somehow you only picked up the common cold once a year and that was it, so the feeling of ickiness rising up your throat made you feel weird, and so you told Lotte.

“I don’t like this,” you said as you looked up at her, tears starting to spill out of your eyes, she pulled you back in her lap so you were sat fully on her lap rather than the edge of her thigh. Your face had lost almost all of its colour and Lotte was pretty sure you were about to throw up. So she grabbed a sick bag, as you turned your head to look back out the window.

“Peanut, if you feel like you might throw up, like your tummy might be sick, I need you to try and aim in here okay,” she told you as she held the sick bag in front of you, you just nodded weakly as you fought back the feeling. Lotte saw your body jerk slightly, before your eyes widened in panic, “It’s okay Pea, I’ve got you, just let it out,”. She watched as you gaged, the tears started to grow, and before long you gaged again as your stomach spilled its contents out into the bag, “that’s the way Pea, it’s okay, you’ve got this, don’t worry, you’re doing so great” Lotte comforted you as she rubbed your back. After you finished you moved your hands up to rub your wet eyes and you sat upright again, “Do you think you’re done for now pea?” you nodded at her as one of the medics walked up behind you holding a bucket, Lotte twisted the bag to tie it up and placed it in the bucket before grabbing a wet wipe and wiping your face, placing it in the bucket too. You immediately turned around to face her and curled up in her lap burying your head in her chest and she wrapped her arms tightly around your now sobbing body.

“We’re going to stop off slightly earlier than originally planned, someone can go inside and grab whatever you both need and you can sit outside with her so she can get some fresh air if you want,” the medic told Lotte, “Thank you,” she smiled at the medic who smiled back before walking towards the front of the bus again. 

“Are you feeling a little better now Pea?” Lotte asked as she kissed the top of your head, you nodded softly into her chest.

______

You were now sitting on Lotte’s knees as she sat on a bench outside, you felt a lot more like your normal self and only felt a little icky still, you were in a very competitive game of eye spy when Leah came to sit next to you.

“Hey Le, you okay?” Lotte asked, curious as to why the blonde wasn’t inside with the team.

“Yeah, just thought I would join you both to get some fresh air,” Leah’s voice pulled you out of your trance and you climbed of Lotte’s lap before walking over to Leah on the bench, “Hi Le,” you said as you wrapped your arms around her neck to give her a hug, before she pulled you into her, causing you to fall into her lap.

“Hi mini England, are you feeling better now?” “yes,” you said as you aggressively nodded your head.

“Let’s remember to be calm, Pea, we don’t want you getting sick again.” “Sorry Lotte, can I sit with you on the bus now Leah?” you asked as you tilted your head.

“I think that is up to your sister, but if she says yes I am happy with it.” Leah looked towards Lotte for confirmation.

“Are you sure Leah, she might get sick again,” Lotte asked cautiously, “It’s totally fine Lotte, I’ll just make sure we have some sick bags with us for just encase,” Leah reassured your sister.

“Okay then Pea, you can sit with Leah, but remember to behave and if you feel sick make sure to tell her straight away okay,” you nodded eagerly, as the rest of the team joined you outside. You pulled Leah along behind you as you walked back to the bus.

-

“How about you have a sleep , Pea, it might make you feel better. I might join you, my body is making me feel extra tired today” you nodded as a yawn escaped from your mouth, Leah manoeuvred you on her lap so that you were sitting with your back against her front and your legs stretched out in front of you on top of hers, she sat across two seats, leaning back against the glass of the window. Lia handed her a blanket, which she placed over you, and it wasn’t long before you had fallen asleep. Leah fell asleep shortly after you and you both slept for the rest of the trip.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader #lotte wubben moy #lotte wubben moy x reader #lionesses

[laneywrld]

things lost and things found | Lewis Hamilton

part two

word count: 10k

warnings: smut, smut, more smut, fluff.

A man not made for commitment also doesn’t know how to communicate

It's safe to say that since that night in Cannes nearly two months ago, the lines have blurred.

Every night Clem spends with Lewis ends with her falling asleep nestled in his arms.

Some nights, they don't even have sex; he just calls her up to see him. 

Their outings are no longer limited to his bedroom or whatever hotel he's shacked up in. They're often found all over tabloids and fan pages, seen out at clubs or dinners or even on simple excursions such as shopping or taking walks.

Clementine tries her hardest to remember that Lewis was noncommittal. He would never ever even think about dating her or taking her seriously. That realization and his vocally telling her to not make things weird every time he can see that he catches her off guard keeps her on track. 

Clem knew what she signed up for; quite literally, the NDA she signed entailed every component of their relationship.

Besides the weird butterflies she got around Lewis, life was only getting better and better.  

Being around someone who understands her fully and allows her to completely unravel herself to them has really been good for Clem socially and career-wise.

She was less awakward around people, less reserved and she felt like hey, this man has accepted me for my every little flaw, why wouldn't other people. 

She was moving up in the world, and people loved her for who she was, and for the first time ever, she did too.

She's won an emmy for her netflix show, her movie was breaking records, and she was finally stepping out of her box and showcasing other skills she had.

Along with this new burst of confidence came new relationships. 

She's been trying to go out on dates to see if now was finally the time for her to try to settle down and find something serious.

That what she was doing currently, at dinner sitting across from some NBA players as he rambles on and on about different shots he couldve taken during the game, that he most definitely lost.

Clem hums, eyes feigning interest as he describes how he actually wasn't open when he tried to go for a three-pointer. Shocker, he missed.

When he excuses himself to run to the bathroom, she whips out her phone, seeing that Lewis texted her. 

Lewis 🏁

How's your date?

She shakes her head, typing out her response.

dense. how's silverstone? 

Lewis 🏁

Nerve-wracking, my car is still shit.

i'm sorry 😞  

Lewis 🏁

I'm going to need you tonight.

Lewis, i'm on a date.

Clem scoffs, but the smile on her face as she presses send is misleading.

Lewis 🏁

Is he getting lucky tonight?

NO!

Lewis 🏁

So why can't I?

Clem feels the familiar tingle in her core and places her phone face down on the table just as her date takes his seat in front of her again. 

She can't help the incredulous eyebrow raise she gives him as she sees a powdery substance painting his nostril.

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, love." She smiles politely as she stands and motions for him to wipe his nose. He lifts his camera just as Clem drops enough money to cover her bill and tip the waitress generously. 

She hops into the black SUV, thanking her driver for helping her into the back. She unlocks her phone and sees another message from Lewis.

Lewis 🏁

My jet will be waiting for you.

That is precisely how Clementine ended up in Lewis' hotel room, waiting for him on the bed as he took a quick shower. 

When he emerges from the bathroom she can only offer him an uplifting smile, he looks so tired and so stressed. 

It helps, it always does which is why Lewis wanted her here in the first place. She was like sunrise after the darkest of nights.

"Hi," she coos, opening her arms for the muscly man.

He falls into her arms, his torso bare and his bottom half swaddled in a towel. He lays his head in her lap as she sits against the headboard. He looks up at her face as she stares down at his, and she physically pouts as she brings her fingers up to massage the stress lines from his face.

"That bad?" she whispers as his eyes flutter closed. Lewis sighs, grumbling out a faint "Yeah."

"You don't have to go through it much longer, at least." She tries and she knows it does nothing to take the heavy weight of mercedes off of his shoulders.

"You feel like you're carrying the weight of the world." She hums, her hands traveling down to rub the tension out of his neck. Her fist rubs up and down from the sides of his neck to the crook of his shoulders.

Lewis lets out a relaxed sigh, letting her work on him. 

She doesn't know how long she sits there with him snuggled into her lap as she kneads the tension from his body. 

After a while, she connects to his speaker and plays music. She has Lewis turn over onto his stomach as she slips from underneath him.

She hums as she sits on his bottom and begins massaging his back. "Your back is bruised."

"I was bouncing around like crazy in that fucking car." He curses.

Clementine bends down, pressing kisses around his back on the purple and red marks adorning his skin. 

Lewis closes his eyes, relishing in the comfort she gives him.

Lewis has noticed it, too, the turn their dynamic has taken. He is aware that he has given slight leeway to the emotional part of their relationship. 

He finds himself thinking about Clem plenty throughout the days. Buys things he thinks she'll like. He's grown accustomed to placing delicate pecks on her lips and face randomly throughout their time together; he can't help it.

Something about her has him wanting her all of the time, not even in th physical way. He just wants her to be with him.

"Can you come out to the race tomorrow?" He rasps.

She sits up, her legs still encaging his body. "Hmm, I don't think your publicity team will like that, people are already speculating about us."

"I don't care." Lewis argues, "It's about time you come to a race, wanna see you immediately not wait to get to the hotel and then see you."

His words make her heart thump harsher, and suddenly, all of the warnings from her publicist dissipate.

"Okay." 

Lewis didn't initiate sex between them that night. He simply turns over with her still on top of him and places his hands on her thighs.

"Come here," he whispers, reaching up to tug her head down to his face.

Their lips lock and it's not rushed or leading to anything. It's like how he kissed her in France. It's just sweet?

She can feel his heart against her chest as she is pressed against him, beating rampantly. "Thank you for showing up for me." He mutters against her lips. She grins against him as she remembers the words she scribbled onto the note she'd given him with her gift.

"Always." she breathes, diving back in to kiss him. One hand travels to her waist, and the other has a soft grip on the back of her neck. 

She feels his member poke against her thigh, and she sits up as much as she can with his hand on her neck, ready to free him from the towel, but the hand he had on her waist stops her actions with a grip on her wrist.

"I just want to lay with you tonight, if that's okay?"

Just when she thought she was safe from her tom-foolish thoughts, she felt her suppressed feelings for Lewis take light again. Don't make it weird, she thinks to herself. "Okay." 

Lewis sits up, his hand returning to her hip; she is sat in his lap, legs folded, and his body pushes her slightly back as he tugs on the comforter. He falls back taking her with him and pulls the thick comforter over her body which lays against his chest.

"What's one thing that surprised you about me?"

Clem traces her fingers on his chest in deep thought, "that you don't do relationships."

"Why that?"

"You're a lover boy at heart." Clem chortled, "Literally just a sweetheart. Most men who can't see themselves being with someone don't act as affectionate with women."

Lewis lets out a hmm sound, his hand still gliding up and down her back beneath his t-shirt that she wore.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good, there's nothing wrong with being a sweetheart; bad if someone gets the wrong idea; I have a feeling you're an easy man to fall in love with."

Lewis presses a kiss to her hairline, butterflies doing summersaults in his belly. 

-

They wake up the next morning in the same position, with Clem's face nestled in the crook of his neck. Lewis smiles as he reaches over to turn off his alarm.

"Gotta get up, Clem." He soothes, rubbing up and down her back. 

"Mhmm." She moans in denial, cuddling deeper into him. "No."

"Come on, beautiful."

He sits up, forcing her up with him.

She flutters her eyes open and wraps her arms around his neck. 

He chuckles at her defiance, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing. He taps her thigh and she gets the message, wrapping them around his waist.

He walks her into the bathroom and sits her down on the bathroom counter. "Sit here, be careful." He orders, unraveling her from his body. He almost gives up and tucks her back into bed as she whines at him.

He leaves the bathroom and returns with a small bag of hers. She slumps against the mirror as she hears him rustling about. When she hears the faucet turn on and then feels his big hands massage circles into her cheeks, she opens her eyes.

There, she sees Lewis standing there with a cheeky smile, his hands lathered in her face soap as he massages the suds onto her face.

"Going to have to get my girl ready myself, huh?" He questions.

She only smirks at him and closes her eyes, letting him work through her skincare routine step by step, laughing as he inquires about every product.

When he finishes, he washes his own face and then passes her toothbrush to her. He stands between her legs as they both brush their teeth. Both of them stare at each other with googly eyes, laughing as foam bubbles from their mouths. When she leans over to spit into the sink, he follows shortly after and then pours a capful of mouthwash for her and them himself. And again, they stare into each other's eyes, giggly and gleaming, as they swish the liquid between their puffy cheeks.

This is where Clementine struggled with the status of their agreement. These weren't the actions of a man who didn't intend to be in a relationship. But she had heard of Lewis and his many flings and "friends" and she knew that he was a very affectionate person so once again she willed away the thought that there was any chnace of Lewis ever straying away from his bachelor lifestyle. 

She pats his shoulder beckoning him to step away, when he does she hops down and releases the last of the contents from her mouth into the sink and stepping aside so Lewis can do the same. 

"I'm going to grab my clothes." She informs.

As she lays her outfit options across the bed, she hears a vibration beneath her shirt, and she leans over the bed, patting until she finds the culprit. When she feels the device, she pulls it from underneath and sees that it's not her phone but Lewis'.

The screen lights up with notifications. 

One catches her eye from, Natalie.

Lewis did feel comfortable enough to disclose his other flings to her, and she nearly shit herself when he associated them all with cities. She remembers the way he laughed when she asked if she needed to get tested. Then she asked if he had referred to her as Clementine, NYC.

Natalie, Silverstone. She recalls.

It wasn't like she was intentionally snooping, but as the screen lit up in her hand again, she couldn't help but read the message as it appeared.

Still on for tomorrow?

At first, she feels a pang in her chest, but then she remembers her place, and she gently sits his phone on the nightstand, allowing the screen to turn off.

"Hey, you okay?" Lewis questioned, poking his head from the bathroom, realizing that she had stopped responding to him. 

She is stood facing the bed with her hands on her hips, scanning her oufits. "Yeah," she smiles though it doesn't quite meet her eyes. 

He eyes her quizically, but when she chuckles at his facial expression, pulls her outfit from the bed, and saunters into the bathroom with him, he relaxes.

Clem is in her head, and she hopes it's not obvious to Lewis.

But she can't help but wonder why he would fly her out just to make plans to sleep with another woman in the span of two days.

She's hurt, and she's jealous, and she knows she shouldn't be, but a part of her wants to slap the shit out of him. 

Instead, she refrains and plays into whatever sick bullshit he was playing with her heart unintentionally.

-

She arrives to the paddock with Lewis and she tries not to grimace as he tells a journalist that he brings friends with him to races all of the time, as they pass by.

He opens the door to the Mercedes motorhome like the proper gentleman he is and directs her into his room.

"I'm just going to change into my suit, and then we can head to the garage, okay?"

She nods and pulls out her phone. Already, she sees that they are trending. 

Lewis steps out of the room and leaves the door open. A few minutes pass before she hears an audible gasp.

When she looks up, she sees a bright-eyed George Russell.

"Hello, Hi! I'm George, I'm a big fan." He enters the compact room, his hand outstretched before him. She stands from Lewis' bed and accepts his hand.

"Hi, George, I'm Clem."

"I know who you are. What are you doing here?" He wonders.

"I'm a friend of Lewis'. I wanted to see you guys race today."

George stutters out a wow, beginning to ramble on before he is interrupted by a throat clearing at the door. There stands Lewis, with a burning look on his face that makes George immediately drop her hand.

"Lewis." He gasps, "How do you literally know everyone, man?"

She smiles, raising her eyebrows behind Lewis as George rambles about her.

Lewis claps his hands against George's shoulder before speaking, "I love you, kid. But we've got to get going."

And then he reached his arm around George and latched onto Clem and pulled her from behind him.

George stammers out a quick bye, and Clem waves sweetly at him as Lewis pulls her from the motorhome and towards the garage.

"He's so sweet," Clem coos, and Lewis only grunts out a "yeah."

"He looks like a literal prince charming." She extends.

Lewis doesn't want to hear her call his teammate any more kinds of cute, so he opts not to respond.

When they finally reach the garage, he is sitting her down beside Toto, who introduces himself with a warm and welcoming smile.

She accepts his hand, gently shaking it, and in return, Lewis gets whisked away.

She enjoys her time in the garage, whilst Lewis talk to his strategist she is sat beside Toto and a few engineers and she feels like she is on a field trip as they explain the many different parts of their setup. Finally Lewis appears at her side again, beckoning her to follow him. She accepts his hand, lifting from her seat and walking hand in hand with him to his car.

"Wow." she gasps as she studies the racing car.

"You want to get in?" Lewis questions. She turns to him with wide eyes, and Lewis can see the excitement in her dark orbs.

"You don't like people in your car." She reminds, peering back down at it.

"I said I don't let just anyone in my car, are you just anyone?" He is staring at her so intensely it has her body on fire.

She felt shy underneath his gaze as he stepped closer to her.

She stands tall, looking up at him through her lashes. He's nearly bumping chests with her as he looms over her.

"There's an entire team in here, Lewis, and cameras." She whispers only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

He doesn't care. He leans down, his mouth near her ear, "Are you just anyone to me, Clementine?"

She swallows nervously as he takes a step back, "No."

"Then get in the fucking car."

Toto watches on from his seat in amazement as Lewis lifts her frame into the car. He then turns and looks into the camera with his eyebrows raised as to show his impressment. 

He put two and two together that she was a personal guest for Lewis. It was obvious since Mercedes had already planned for Tom Cruise and Damson Idris' arrival for the race today.

Lewis leans into the car as he motions to different parts on the inside of the automobile. 

Clem honestly couldn't give two fucks about the car, but she was relishing in how passionate Lewis looked and sounded as he spoke about every aspect of it. She hadn't moved her eyes from his face not once, and Lewis froze as he turned to face her and saw the wanting look adorning her features.

It has him hard instantly.

"Behave." He warns, turning his head to survey their surroundings.

"You're fine as fuck when you're talking cars."

Lewis chuckles, and a blush comes up to cover his cheeks. He lifts his hand, his knuckles skimming along her jaw.

"I want to kiss you, but people will see."

She drops her face against his hand, puckering her bottom lip out at him.

"Aw, too bad." She whispers seductively, and Lewis whispers out a quiet "fuck." as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. His thumb reaches up and drags it back out.

"Gotta be nice to me right now, Clem. Hmm?" He hums, not bothering to remove his thumb from her lip. He smears his finger across, watching as it pops back into place. 

"Help me out of this car." She smirks, lifting her arms, "Before you do something you'll regret, there are cameras around."

"I don't give a fuck about the cameras." He rasps and breaks out into a grin when she bursts into a fit of laughter. He smacks his teeth, standing up straight, preparing to get her out.

"You like fucking with me." He declares.

Lewis helps her from the car, his hands probably lingering on her lower back for far too long once she's back on the ground.

"Lewis." He hears, and when he turns around, he sees Tom and Damson.

He pulls Clem with him, introducing her to the pair. He instantly regrets it when he sees the way Damson eyes her down like she's a refreshing tall glass of water.

 Tom starts up a conversation with Lew about the business they need to handle for his upcoming movie, but his eyes can't leave Clem's frame, and how Damson brings her hand up to his lips. 

He feels like a suicidal maniac when he watches her laugh and smile at whatever he is saying.

He'd met him before, and trust, whatever he was saying couldn't possibly be that funny.

Lewis wants to rip Toto's head off as he directs the two of them into a set of empty seats. He was less than present during the conversation with Tom, and he hoped he hadn't noticed. His arms are folded over his chest, and his foot is tapping the ground anxiously. He tries not to make it obvious when he directs Tom to his spot and takes his in order to keep an eye on Clem.

When the time for the start of the race gets closer he is thankful to see Tom take his place beside Toto. 

He saunters over to the still chatty pair and stands in front of Clem. He waits for her to notice him, and when she doesn't, he clears his throat rather dramatically. 

She stands when she notices him, shooting Damson an apologetic smile that has him ready to drag her off. Which he does.

He pulls her to a corner of the garage and up the stairs into a random office and locks the door. 

"You okay." Clem questions, stepping towards him and placing her hands on his waist. "Lewis." she tries again when he doesn't answer.

He looks stressed and zoned out.

"I- uh yeah." he coughs and suddenly he feels better having her away from Damson. "i'm fine, pre-race jitters." He lies.

Her hands slide up his chest until they settle on the sides of his head.

She tilts his head so that he's staring into her eyes. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"I'm regretting this." He admits and her eyes squint, "bringing you here, I mean."

That does nothing to alleviate her hurt expression, so he continues, "My car is still shit, I don't want you to watch me lose."

She scoffs, gently slapping her hand against his shoulder before returning it to its place caressing his beard. "Would’ve watched you lose at home too, what's the difference. I'm going to support you all the same."

Lewis leans down and presses a short, soft kiss to her plump lips.

Her eyes flutter closed as he stares down at her, and finally, his hands raised to her hips, pulling her into him. "I don't think that I tell you thank you enough for all of the ways you help me, Clem."

"You don't have to," she whispers, dropping her forehead against his chest. He rests his chin on top of her head, putting his arms over her shoulders as hers wraps around his torso.

Lewis likes this. He thinks he can start every race for the rest of his career like this. When he hears a knock on the door, he groans but shoots Clem a warning look as she chuckles at him.

"Big baby." she teases, moving around him to unlock the door. He maneuvers behind her, reaching to open it, and when he does, he sees Toto there with a knowing smirk.

"Time to race, Lewis."

She allows Lewis to pull her from the office hand in hand, and she knows her publicist is probably in New York and stressed running through cigarettes. She always joked that this Lewis rendezvous would result in her smoking her stress away.

Lewis knows something is wrong with him for sure when he realizes that he doesn't care about the camera or who's watching him show Clem his affection. He knows they're going to be the main topic of every tabloid tomorrow, and he just doesn't care.

She stands in front of him beside his car as the crew bustles around them.

When it's time for Lewis to finish his preparation, he motions his head towards Clem, and suddenly, her hands are stuffed with a balaclava and a pair of gloves. 

She turns to the man who handed them to her and he offers her a small smile. 

She turns to Lewis, and he can tell she's trying to fight off the grin that desperately wants to appear.

She reaches for his right hand, tugging the glove onto his hand gently, she checks each finger and pulls to make sure the fit is snug. She repeats her actions on his left hand and then Lewis firmly places his hands on her waist. He's looking at her with those sparkly eyes and a loving smile.

She turns the balaclava in her hands, trying to figure out which way to pull it over his head. When she sees the opening, she lets out an "Aahh" that has Lewis chuckling at her.

She stands on her tiptoes, freeing his braids from the ponytail and pushing them back. She hums to herself as she pulls the balaclava over his head. 

She settles back on her feet, and she can only see his eyes, but it does something to her. 

She reaches between them pulling the upper half of his suit up his body, giggling when he grunts realizing he's got to let go of her to push his arms through the sleeves.

His hands are back on her in an instant, like by not physically touching her he'd fly away.

Clem reaches between them again; this time, her fingers latch onto the zipper, and she tugs it up from his pelvis all the way up his chest until it's set in place. 

"I don't know, Lew. I think we've at least got a podium." She whispers, accepting the helmet.

She steps back, allowing his hands to fall, and then hands him the helmet.

"I can feel it in my bones." 

"Oh," Lewis laughs, "Can feel it in your bones?" He sticks out his free hand, tickling at her.

Clementine laughs, stepping back and gripping his arm, "Stop!" 

He listens, pulling on his helmet and looking back at his car.

"Well, that's me."

Clem feels like a lovesick puppy as she watches his eyelashes flutter with every blink of his eyes.

"Podium." She reminds him, lifting her pinky.

"Podium." He declares, wrapping his own against hers. He lifts their conjoined hands and places them against his helmet where his mouth would be, and she swoons.

"Get in the car, Hamilton."

She's a giddy mess as she steps away from him and finds herself accepting a seat from one of the crew members.

She sighed while watching the screen as Lewis started in P5. He is quickly into P4. She feels her adrenaline kick in as the crew cheers excitedly watching him overtake into third. When he overtakes two other drives all in the same lap the garage erupts in shouts of excitement, just for that to be taken away just as fast when they see a car barrel through off od the track and into the fence.

Clem gasps, her hand coming up to cup her mouth.

She knew Formula One was a dangerous sport, but watching a wreck like that happen in real-time has her mind reeling on just how much danger Lewis puts himself in.

"Is he okay?" She hears as the crew all talk amongst themselves.

"George is out of the race. The other driver is okay." Toto announces, "We're restarting."

Lewis is back in the garage, and he is irritated.

Clem stays back and out of his way as she watches him angrily rant. "That is not right, Toto." He snaps, "back in fifth?"

She watches as Toto nods at him, and Lewis turns to his assistant, rolling his eyes. He looks so frustrated as he throws his hand out, "fucking fifth."

Clem knew that when she was angry that she didn't like to be bothered, so she stayed in her seat. She feels a body plop down beside her, and she turns to see Damson.

"Intense, yeah?" He questions.

"Most definitely." She sighs, "My adrenaline is off the charts right now."

"First time coming to a race?"

She nods, returning the question, "Nah, this is like the NFL to Brits."

She laughs, "Right."

The two chat whilst the rest of the garage is in shambles, and Lewis watches the two with slits in his eyes. 

He knows he shouldn't be jealous. Clem was nothing to him but a friend who he enjoys fucking. It's what he tells himself as Damson passes his phone to her. She was just his friend. He'd even encouraged her to get out there and find her person.

But that was before he realized how differently she made his heartbeat.

Lewis doesn't bother going over to her before the race restarts, he can feel her lingering eyes as he manuevers around the garage, avoiding her.

Lewis feels a bit enraged. Initially, it was just the FIA and their stupid fucking rules, then it was the car, and now it was Clementine and the stupid British actor drooling over each other in his face.

It was all piling on top of him, and he hadn't felt so unsettled ever before a race. 

He hops back into his car, not sparing Clem a glance, and rolls out into P5.

This time the only thing on his mind is how fucking mad he is. 

That anger got him P3. 

He doesn't know why he doesn't approach Clem as she waits for him patiently in her seat. He goes around and thanks the crew and the engineers and has a brief talk with Toto and Tom. And then he leaves to go to the podium, all without even glancing at her.

Clem, always aware, remains silent and tries to keep the pout from taking place on her face.

She tries not to take Lewis' actions personal, it's obvious he's wound up. She doesn't know if it's something she did or if he's still frustrated by the race restart. Logically it's the second, she's learned that not everyone's behaviors have to do with her. It's taken years of her enternalizing other people's moods to realize that 9/10 people are just feeling things. She hasn't done anything, she's sure of it.

She is directed into the motorhome whilst Lewis handles other business and she sits in his room on his bed waiting patiently.

When Lewis had brought up the idea of bringing her to the race yesterday, he raved on and on about how she'd be able to walk the track, wait with his team whilst he's on the podium (if he got one), and get the classic guest experience. She hadn't gotten that, which was a letdown since she really wanted to experience Lewis' world, but she understood why that wasn't possible today after seeing Lewis' mood.

But still, it would have been nice not to sit in his motorhome and then the garage all day, just to end up back in his motorhome alone for hours. 

When Lewis emerges into the tiny room he is clean and dressed in comfortable clothes. He had been on the phone in the office preparing a few arrangements for the past hour. He sighs as he sees her frame sprawled across the tiny bed. 

There are soft puffs of air escaping her, and her phone is clutched loosely in her hand.

He can tell she fell asleep scrolling through her phone.

He sits on the foot of the bed at her feet and drops his head into his hands.

He doesn't know what he's doing. But he does know he can't keep going on like this. Lewis didn't like relationships, he didn't like being tied down, it wasn't fair of him to only want Clem to himself when she would never get all of him. 

"C'mon Clem, let's get you back."

Like the sleepy girl she is, she whines as Lewis pulls her body from the bed, placing her on her feet. 

"Can you walk?" 

She only nods, reaching over to grab her bag and her phone. She doesn't speak to Lewis quite yet, still unsure of his mood. She lets him direct her from the motorhome, his hand tight in hers as he leads her through the paddock. It is so late at night that there are rarely any people hanging around. When they exit and get to his car, the flashes from the cameras wake her up even more, and she uses the back of her hand to block the lights. 

Lewis walks her to the passenger side, waiting for her to slip in before he closes the door gently and goes around to his seat.

He pulls out cautiously and begins their trek to the hotel.

Clem forces herself to stay awake, knowing that it's only a short drive.

Still, she is waiting for Lewis to speak, but he doesn't. 

"I had fun," she announces.

"I'm glad."

"You got podium." She cheers lowly.

Lewis only offers her a small smile, and uncertainty settles in her gut. Something's not right.

She gives up trying to talk to him after that. 

The car is filled with tension and awkward silence. It's so unlike them.

When they pull into the hotel, Clem doesn't wait for the valet to open her door. She clambers out and thanks god as the night breeze fills her lungs. She's never felt so suffocated around Lewis.

As Lewis exchanges formalities with the man she rushes into the hotel and onto the elevator, when she reaches the room she unlocks it with the secondary key taking a moment to gulp down a glass of water.

Lewis follows in behind her shortly after, paying her no mind as he goes to the bathroom and emerges with his shirt and jewelry off.

"You got an attitude?" Lewis questions, standing in the doorframe.

"No, I don't." 

"I know you, Clementine." Lewis rasps, coming to stand over her as she sits on the bed.

"You're the one with the nasty ass attitude." She huffs, reaching up to nudge him away from her. He doesn't budge.

"Lose the attitude, Clem." He orders, and she rolls her eyes. 

"Or what, Lewis?" She pushes.

Lewis' hand is at her neck in a second. His grip is not tight at all, just holding her in place as he ravishes her mouth. Just as frustrated as he is, she returns the kiss.

"Got something for that attitude," Lewis grunts, pushing her onto her back.

She gasps as he roughly pulls at her pants.

He has them off before she knows it, and his hand lets go of her neck and travels down to pull at her panties. He rips them off of her with a hunger in his eyes like no other. 

"Gotta fuck it out of you, Clem?" He asks. 

He doesn't give her time to answer as he sinks down to his knees at the end of the bed and pulls her down with him. He lifts her legs over him and wraps his arms around her thighs. His hands settle on her thighs, keeping them apart, and he stares up at her one last time before connecting his mouth to her clit.

She jumps, but his hands hold her in place.

He removes his lips from her bundle of nerves, his tongue traveling down to swipe through her crease. She moans lightly as she fists at the sheets. His fingers travel up to replace his mouth, and he digs them deep into her core, his tongue flicking against her clit before he presses it flat and moves up and down.

Clem gasps as he curls his fingers inside her and suckles extra hard on her. Her hand shoots down to push him away, but he catches her wrist in his free hand, holding it against the mattress. 

He stares up at Clem, the whole scene naughty and erotic. He lets her other hand come down to rest in his hair. 

Lewis moans into her, his mouth sending a wave of vibrations through her body. Lewis never took his eyes off of her, watching as she writhed above him. He was showing her no mercy as the gushy sounds filled the room. 

She tasted so good.

Lewis worked his tongue around her clit, teasing her only for a minute before he smushed his mouth over it again and suckled just the right amount, his fingers still thrust in and out of her, driving her absolutely insane. He moans into her pussy and trails his mouth down to swallow where she is oozing. 

Lewis lets her captivating moans egg him on as he devours her like a starved man. He can feel it when she comes when her tight, spongy pussy constricts around his fingers. He happily licks up the juices she releases as she comes undone. 

He pulls his fingers from her core and stands, quickly turning her body over. She lands on her stomach with a slight "oomph" noise and turns to look back at Lewis.

He wastes no time hammering into her from behind. He grabs her arms pulling them behind her back and crossing her wrists; with one hand, he holds them against her back, and with the other, he swats at her ass. Groaning as he watches it ripple.

"Fuck."

Clem can do nothing but pant underneath him and let out pathetic mewls as his hand repeatedly strikes her ass. It hurts so good.

Lewis keeps pounding into her hard, his heart racing as he chases his own orgasm. He sees her phone light up beside him, and a message from Damson appears. 

When he sees this, he speeds up his thrusts, gliding his thick member in and out of her suffocating walls. 

She can only blubber out useless moans as he plummets in and out of her.

He lets go of her wrist, pulling her up onto all fours. 

"You get a thrill out of pissing me off?" He grunts, his hand going up to grip her hair.

"No!" she whines, gripping the covers.

"I think you do." 

His other hand is gripping her waist, pulling her back to him every time she falls forward.

"Nuh-unh." He orders from behind her, letting go of her hair and holding on to her waist tightly with both hands now.

"Don't run from it, baby. You wanted this, huh? This what you want?"

Clem rasps out a choked yes, her head falling at the intense pleasure running through her veins.

Lewis sounds like a beast behind her, all strangled up and growling out praises at her. 

He feels so possessive as his hand lifts and smacks at her ass again. "Fucking, mine." He growls, and Clem falls forward. He doesn't stop as her legs give in, and she drops to the bed again. He climbs behind her, still keeping his pace, and throws his head back as she quivers around him like a candle on fire. 

He can feel the heat building in his core, and it eggs him on as he places his hands on her ass, holding her in place.

Clementine spasms beneath him, never experiencing an orgasm like this before. Her heart feels like it's beating outside of her chest as her ears ring and her eyes roll to the back of her head. She can only curse over and over as she feels Lewis drag out of her and return again with much more force. 

This was the best sex she'd ever gotten in her life.

Her walls clenched around him, her breath hitching as he moved aimlessly in and out of her.

Lewis shuddered at the feeling, sucking in a sharp breath at the sensation. She is face down, panting into the mattress as he pants above her.

She can't count how many times she has come undone underneath him, but as she feels another orgasm approaching, she can't help the way her thighs tremble underneath Lewis. 

Lewis is an incoherent, mumbling and moaning mess above her as he allows himself to succumb to her squeezing cunt, clamping over him. Lewis falls into the abyss, pleasure washing over both of them as he spills into her.

He pulls out with a hiss, shuddering at his sensitivity, and falls over beside Clementine, who rolls onto her back.

"Woah." she pants.

Lewis feels her phone vibrate and he watches as she scambled down the bed to get it, he feels green as he watches her smile at the screen.

Just as she moves to lie beside him again, he speaks up with words that make her feel dismayed.

"I booked you a room."

He turns away from her, staring at the ceiling.

"I- What?" She stutters, turning to face him.  

"It's just a floor below, suite 909."

Clem is distraught, and it shows on her face as she jumps away from the bed as if Lewis has burned her. "Lewis, what-"

Her words are cut off as her phone vibrates in her hand. Lewis chuckles dryly, finally tilting his head to face her. Suddenly Clem feels like a little girl again, wondering why her parents never made an effort in her life, wondering why it was so easy for them to push her aside like they didn't care that she existed.

"What's the matter? Are we okay?" She rambles.

Stop talking, Lewis. He thinks to himself as he watches Clem's eyes flash with wetness. Even sad, she has doe eyes, still shining, but this time, there are tears in her eyes and an intense sadness. 

"Yeah," he should’ve stopped there, but he kept going. "I'll probably see you tomorrow. If not, it'll be the next time I need you." He motions to the bed.

Clem frowns, letting out an exhale as she bends down to tug on her pants. As she maneuvers around the room collecting her suitcase, Lewis calls out to her. "I put the room key beside your toiletry bag."

She slips into the bathroom, picking up her small bag, and sure enough, the keycard is there. She grasps it in her hand and walks out. She wants to scream at him, tell him how big of a dick he's being, but she's not that kind of person.

She is graceful. But it's taking everything in her to channel the lessons her grandpa has taught her when she is this mad, this hurt. 

Clem avoids looking at Lewis as she latches onto her suitcase. 

 "Maybe you should start considering finding someone who's serious, Clementine."

Is this what this is about? She knew the blurred lines would come back to bite her in the ass eventually.

She freezes, her back turned to him as her hand pauses on the door handle. And her body shakes slightly as a her frown deepens, she feels a stream of tears flow down her cheeks.

And just when Lewis thinks that Clem is going to turn around and argue with him, probably throw something at him and shout at him, she doesn't.

She lifts one hand, swiping at her face, and then softly opens the door and leaves without so much as looking back at him. The door clicks shut behind her, and she walks on down the hallway towards the elevator. 

The words don't react, echoing over and over in her head, but as she hears the wheel rolling on her suitcase, she can't help but feel the trembling in her body. She presses her lips together, stepping onto the elevator, and as the doors close, she lets out a gutwrenching sob. 

She sniffles as she steps into the suite. Rushing to the bathroom to shed her clothes, she showers wiping all traces of Lewis Hamilton from her body the way she wishes she can erase him from her mind. She scrubs harshly, eyes still full with tears, between the scorchingly hot water, steam and the tears she can barely see anything as she scrubs severely.

For the first time since agreeing to this arrangement, she feels used by Lewis. She's never felt so dirty in her life. As she sank down to her knees, feeling the wails rip through her body with force, she realized why exactly his words and actions hurt her so much. 

It didn't matter how much she showed up for him or how much she allows herself to be his shrink and him hers, it'd always be a bad religion, loving someone who'd never love you back.

Lewis is in the same position he has been in since she left, flat on his back with his hands covering his face. His body is quivering as sobs rack through his body.

It was a tough decision, but it was one that had to be made. He could never give Clem what she deserved; he wasn't a committed person. Seven years on and off with the same person is proof of that. He could never be okay with putting her through that.

-

Lewis wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache and lingering loneliness. 

He always felt like this when he woke up without Clem in his arms. As he sits up and swipes his hands over his face, his heart aches when he notices her ripped panties thrown on the floor.

He regrets his actions. 

He wishes he would've sat her down nicely and explained how things were getting too deep for him. It's Clem, she would've understood. 

He realizes just how bad he fucked up when her giddiness to lay beside him last night flickers through his mind like a clip from a movie.

"What if we lay in bed after every meetup and we just talk?"

He feels like he's been shot when her hurt face replays over and over. He treated her like shit last night, all because he was scared of what she made him feel. 

He was a mess during yesterday's race; all he could think about down every straight and around every curve was how much he liked Clem, how good she made him feel, and bad she could make him feel just as easily.

He realized that the woman had too much control over his heart yesterday, and he couldn't take that. This was supposed to be fun, casual fun. He never inteded to catch feeling for Clementine Russell, but she was the kind of girl who made you drop to her feet.

He never stood a chance against her charm.

He scrambled from the king-sized bed, rushing to his phone.

-

When he hears a knock on his door, he opens it in a rush; he sees the butler there and offers him a finger to signal to hold on. He rushes to his table, picking up the bouquet of flowers, an array of red, yellow, and orange orchids, dahlias, and marigolds. 

"Can you take these down to suite 909?" Lewis pants pushing the boquet towards the man, there is a note nestled between the pedals.

The man tilts his head, pushing the flowers back towards Lewis.

"I am sorry, Sir Hamilton, Ms Russell has checked out already in the early hours of Midnight."

Lewis feels his heart crumble as he steps away from the man, the giant bouquet firm in his hold.

Lewis says nothing as he closes the door and walks away. 

-

Clem had left that night, not long after leaving Lewis' room. After her shower, she was on the first flight home, and she hadn't spoken to Lewis since. 

Lewis misses Clementine. It's a realization that he came to rather quickly but refused to admit.

Lewis pulls himself out of the leggy woman he picked up at the end of his race. She drops down beside him in heavy pants. 

"That was fun." She exhales.

He doesn't know why when he turns his head, he expects to see Clem staring back at him with her dark eyes and cute smile. 

This woman is no Clementine, and that's for sure. 

He doesn't know why he tries it, but he does. "You can go anywhere in the world under one condition. You'd have to stay there forever; everything is unchanged, and nothing new will ever come. Where do you choose?"

He watches as her eyes scrunch momentarily in confusion.

"I don't know. It's probably Paris. I'm obsessed with their lifestyle, honestly."

Lewis turns his head back to the ceiling.

He wants her to leave. And he wants Clementine to be in her place.

It's quiet and awkward, and she doesn't even try to ask him. 

He already knows his answer. He'd be with Clem in his bed, hands connected as they lie naked underneath his covers, heads turned to each other as they talk. He'd watch on as the moonlight supersedes the darkness and the moonbeams are replaced with sun rays. And he'd listen to her feel things like she made him. And he'd be happy and content with spending eternity like that.

Everything unchanged, nothing new.

Lewis begins to think that maybe casual sex isn't for him anymore. Perhaps he's taking Clem's absence extra hard because he yearned for the other form of intimacy, the emotional aspect of being with a woman.

So he tries dating. 

And he comes to the same conclusion, date after date.

Their eyes don't gleam like hers.

They don't understand his humor.

They don't care about why losing his favorite toy as a kid was an integral part of the man he became.

They can't carry on discussions like Clem or even talk like Clem.

They don't have her precious smile and her deep dimples. They're not gracious and benevolent.

They aren't Clem, no one ever will be.

Lewis craves Clem; he misses her with every fiber of his being.

And he regrets letting her up from his bed. He regrets telling her to pursue another man. 

When Lewis returns to New York, his thumb lingers over the send button.

clemmy 🪂

I need to see you, where are you?

He doesn't send the message; he drops his phone with a sigh, knuckling at his eyes. Why was it so fucking hard? He'd never felt this troubled in his life, especially over a woman he'd never even dated.

He sighs in distress, picks up his phone, stares at the message begging to be sent, and clicks off of the app. Instead, he opens his Instagram. As he goes to search for Clem's name, he sees that she is still his top search, and he feels like a loser as he enters her profile.

He'd take any sight of her he could get.

-

Clementine wouldn't say she was necessarily religious. Her grandpa would probably drop dead of a heart attack if he heard that. But it was the truth. She thought it was fairytale-like sometimes. Yes, she had faith, but she wasn't as devout as many people. 

If she was being honest, she thought religion began as something beautiful, putting your complete trust and faith into another person, with the idea that they were quite literally the holy grail. Over time, it's been skewed and manipulated, some for great purposes and others for very wrong reasons. 

She thought most religious people were hypocrites. Lewis was a hypocrite for sure, giving her an inch and then taking a mile. Now that she has had time to ponder over it, Lewis Hamilton is actually a sick man. Pouring affection into her and poisoning her heart. 

How did he expect her not to fall for him when he treated her the way he did? She feels like a fool herself, too, thinking back to the conversation she had with him the night before it all went to shit. 

"You're a lover boy at heart." Clem chortled, "Literally just a sweetheart. Most men who can't see themselves being with someone don't act as affectionate with women."

Lewis lets out a hmm sound, his hand still gliding up and down her back beneath his t-shirt that she wore.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good, there's nothing wrong with being a sweetheart; bad if someone gets the wrong idea; I have a feeling you're an easy man to fall in love with."

Lewis was a hypocrite, and she was too. 

But the truth is religion gave people purpose. She'd never felt it firmly in a spiritual sense, but she had experienced that strong urge to follow someone's every command. She's believed every word that tumbles from his mouth. Given the opportunity, she would surely drop to her knees at his feet. She's only ever felt the need to praise and put her limited faith and her secured trust into one person. Sure, she had faith, just in a bad religion. She admired one man, Lewis Hamilton, but there was one problem, she could never make him love her the way she loved him.

Clem took his advice. She branched off, presented herself in new ways, made new friends, developed herself, and found someone who would take her seriously, though that didn't last long at all. 

clementine

liked by feliciathegoat, pharrell, and 12,898,465 others

clementine so, they've helped me make an album? Clementine, NYC out now on all streaming platforms !! 

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feliciathegoat Cool kids doing cool shit 🏌🏿

clementine the coolest 😎

lilyachty ALBUM OF THE FUCKING YEAR

clementine 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

user no bc who did my girl like that

clementine no really, it's okay though builds character 😃

user builds character my ass, go beat his ass

user A MOVIE AND MUSIC IN THE SAME YEAR ASVJHKHK WHEN DO WE GET SEASON 2???

clementine yk im filming girl 🙄

clementine

liked by danielricciardo, justinbieber, and 10,898,465 others

clementine two post in one day bc why not, what's everyone's favorite song from Clementine, NYC?!?

danielricciardo In your hands slaps

clementine you sir, have great taste 😘

user daniel what are you doing here 😭

user No really, weird ass crossover episode

user the blue hair to match the album cover the movie * chefs kiss*, your creativity is unmatched queen

clementine you noticing the small details >>>

justinbieber posting us arguing over the order is killing me

clementine no bc we both look so over it 😂

user I love her and Tyler's friendship sm

feliciathegoat i love my bestie

clementine and I love u T 🥹

-

Lewis instantly throws in his airpods and starts the album, one by one he listens to each song. Sure enough every song has small anecdotes about their time together that only he'd know.

He was aware that he was blurring the lines between just benefits and true feelings, but he didn't know that he wasn't the only one feeling strongly about it. He never took her feelings into account.

Just when he thought he couldn't feel any worse about the situation, that realization dawned on him. Clementine Russell loved him and he threw her to the curb like a bag of trash. 

He's throwing on whatever clothes he sees first as he rushes from his door. 

He doesn't bother calling his driver as he treks block after block; he has one destination in mind, Clem's townhome. 

He's there before he knows it, his fist urgently banging against her door. 

He sees a light flicker on through the window, and then her door swings open.

She's in her nightshirt with her hair wrapped in a scarf, and her eyes are puffy from sleep. When she sees Lewis, she begins to swing the door back closed, but his hand pushes against it.

"No, Lewis." She snarls, swinging the door open again. She is looking at him like he's the devil himself. "I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't even want to think of you."

"Clem, please." He begs, "Please, I can't take it."

She pauses at the door, taking her time to study the man in front of her. He looks bad, simply put.

His eyes are bloodshot and droopy with bags, his braids are disheveled and clearly in need of a touch-up, and he just looks all around miserable.

She almost gives in until she thinks back to the last eight months where she had been miserable herself. She smacks her teeth swinging the door closed until she hears Lewis shout out three words that take her back to when the roads got foggy, Cannes. When she realized the difference in how she actually felt for Lewis.

"I love you."

She peels the door back open and stares at him intensely. "What did you say?"

He looks like he's watched his whole world get taken away from him as he repeats himself, "I love you. Don't shut the door, please."

"It's not fair, Lewis." She fumes.

"I know." He whispers, and his voice cracks.

"You don't get to do this to me." Clem snapped. "You can't just make me feel things for you and then push me away. You can't make me love you and then hurt me and tell me you love me when it's too late."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry, isn't enough." She hissed angrily, approaching him and poking his chest. 

He reaches up and grabs her hand, holding it close to his chest. She feels him shudder underneath her touch, and his body begins to shake.

"Clem, I'm sorry." his voice is hoarse and thick as he peers down at her, and she cracks when she feels a teardrop against their connected hands. "I'm sorry."

Her forehead drops against his chest, and he wraps his arms around her. "You didn't deserve that; I should have just told you; I was scared; you broke all of my walls, Clem; I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to hurt you in the end."

"But you did, " she cries.

"I know, I did; I was scared of commitment, was scared I would ruin us further down the line." He presses a kiss to the top of her head, "I'm not scared of commitment, Clem, not anymore. I just don't want to be committed if it's not to you."

"You don't mean that." Clem breathes. 

"I promise I do, Clem."

She steps back from him, letting his arms fall to his side. "You made me feel dirty."

He opens his mouth, and she puts up her hand, "Let me talk. I let you disrespect me, Lewis. I should be done with you. I should be over you. I don't care how much I feel for you; if you ever, and I mean ever, speak to me that way or treat me like I'm nothing ever again, all gracefulness is out of the fucking window."

"I understand." He breathes, "I will never, Clem, and I mean never treat you like that again."

It's ironic, the two of them standing infront of each other as the sky illuminates in yellow and orange hues. 

"It's six in the morning." Clem sighs.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"I wasn't supposed to be here today; you almost missed me," Clem informs.

"I would've found you. Lost you once already. I didn't know how much I cherished what we had until I no longer had it. Until I lost it. I don't want to lose you forever, too."

"It's almost spring," Clem announces. 

"Gonna take you to that mountain, Clem." He promises, pulling her into his arms again.

"I've missed you so much. There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about. I missed talking to you." She admits and Lewis holds her tighter.

"I missed listening to you. Swear I did." 

"Are we still friends?"

"No, we're more than that. We should’ve never been friends. Always meant to be more." 

"I wrote an album about you." She sighs.

She feels Lewis hum against her. "It's beautiful."

"I talked so much shit about you, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for feeling Clem, I was a shit person to you." 

"My hair is blue." She announces, and he chuckles; there she was, his Clem talking his head off.

"Starting over, right?"

"Yeah, starting over."

Although they weren't laying in bed on their backs hands connected and staring through the ceiling like it was their sky. Things felt familiar to the two as the sun rose and light beamed around them.

Lewis was her sunset, the beauty that comes after a hard and blaring day. To him, she was the sunrise. After the darkness, it will always be light again. She was his light source, and he knew that now. He could never lose something that's always shining. 

"Thank you for showing up for me."

Not proofread

the album:

bad religion - frank ocean

in your hands - halle

i think- tyler, the creator

saturn- sza

broken is the man- jorja smith

everything is gonna be alright- infinity song

everything- kehlani

mine- beyonce ft drake

poison- beyonce

are we still friends- tyler, the creator

eternal sunshine- jhene aiko

<3

#black reader #lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x black reader #poc reader #black female oc #lewis hamilton x black female oc #black reader friendly #things lost and things found part two

[mazamba]

Baby Steps

Dani slurped her milkshake noisily as she shifted back to the visible spectrum, interrupting the argument between the so-called adults. It'd been a hectic week, she'd been part of Young Justice for less than a week, yet they already had a crisis in the form of a maybe-evil clone.

"Do you mind?" growled Batman.

"Try a different word."

Superman raised an eyebrow.

""Father" is too heavy, try "brother" instead," she continued, "I mean, Phantom's technically my dad, but I don't call him that. He's my 'cuz!"

"What we call each other isn't the problem."

"No, but it's less scary isn't it? Danny was fifteen when I met him. Imagine if I'd called him dad. He'd have freaked out!"

Batman nodded, seeing the logic.

"And even then, I kinda needed some time to put my head together, you know?" she rattled on, floating crisscross applesauce in midair like a balloon in the breeze, "It's the real reason I left the first time. Maybe some time apart would be good for them? Microdose in family!"

"What we call each other isn't even half of the problem," sighed Superman, "you're a clone too, right? You once told me it was weird to know things you didn't remember learning. Clones are made and programed, sometimes with sleeper programming."

"True, but that's what we're here for," she figured, "I mean, I can't take you on, but Superboy's a different story. If he does go nuts, he has the whole Junior League to take care of him."

"I can't ask you to put yourself in danger."

"You're not, I'm volunteering," figured Stray, finally floating down to the ground, "look, Phantom and I work because we took the time to figure out who we are to each other. You two need time to figure out what you are, not get shoved together and hope for the best."

Batman grunted.

"This is a shock, it was a shock for Danny too. Sa- A mutual friend told me he had a panic attack an hour after I left. Started looking into childcare and stuff. She had to stop him from running after me with a diaper bag and they both crashed into a tree. Tu- a different friend sent me a picture."

"Your point?" sighed the Bat.

"I just said it? Forcing things helps no one. Just... put them in general proximity of each other and let the cards lay where they may. I know what you want to help Superboy, but forcing them into a get along shirt is just gonna hurt them both. You have to think of Superman too."

"And if he does go rogue?"

"Then we stop him."

"That easy?"

"That easy."

Superman sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, the whole situation was a lot less scary by simply changing the word. And what Stray said made sense, in a roundabout sort of way.

For his part, Batman was mentally kicking himself for hyper-focusing on Superboy's needs without taking Clark's feelings into consideration.

"We'll go with your plan," he agreed, "Superman, I'll need you to have a word with Black Canary. She will mediate with you and Superboy whenever you wish to meet, but I need you both to agree to this before we move forward."

"And if we can't?"

"Then he'll have to get adopted into somewhere else," figured Dani, sitting in midair again, "nothing good will happen if we just dump him on you. Neither one of you deserve what happened."

---

I'm sick of people dumping on Clark. Considering how he and the others live, I can't blame him for being suspicious.

Some other guy got replaced by a clone that didn't even know he was a clone. It wouldn't be that weird for Connor to have sleeper programming.

If anything, this is on Batman and the others for trying to force a relationship.

#dp x dc #dani phantom #batman #superman #superboy #clark kent #bruce wayne #connor kent

[em-prentiss]

Tell your baby that I’m your baby

————

Seeing Aaron’s wife at work takes you by surprise.

Cw: fem!bau!reader, angst, past relationship, use of pet names (honey, baby), no use of yn, young Aaron/reader

Word count: 1.6k

if you have any Aaron requests, let me know! <3

————

1993

“Aaron,” you laugh as you plant your hand on his chest and try to shove him away.

“Yes, baby?” He returns innocently, taking your hand off his chest and linking his fingers through yours. He nuzzles his face into your neck, dropping soft, warm kisses on your jaw.

You sigh and close your eyes, sinking back into his chest. Studying is all but impossible with him touching you, but you still try. “I need to study,” you say weakly as his lips move over your pulse. He gently grazes the skin with his teeth, holding back a smirk as you hum contentedly. His warm hand slips up your shirt.

“Study then,” he murmurs, pushing you back so you fall against the pillows. You hear a thud and the rustle of papers as he knocks your textbook to the floor. “I’m not stopping you,” he leans over you and kisses you breathless, his lips insistent against yours. He only pulls back to redirect his attention to your neck, the sharp lines of your collarbone calling to him like a siren.

Your brain goes hazy. Aaron’s fingers skate across the sensitive skin of your hipbone, just under the hem of your sweatpants. He nips your skin and you go boneless beneath him. Your textbook is long forgotten, buried beneath the fog he put your brain in.

“Asshole.” You curse as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Aaron looks up at you and grins, obviously pleased with himself. The silver frames of his glasses glint in the low light of your dorm, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks. You fist his shirt and drag him down on top of you, shutting up the smart retort that was just on the tip of his tongue 

“If I’m sacrificing my test for this,” you breathe, burying your fingers in his hair and tugging at the strands, “it better be damn good, Aaron.”

He smiles, a thrill going through him at getting responsible, studious you to drop your revision for him. “Have I ever let you down?” He murmurs, dipping his hand down the hemline of your sweatpants. Your breath catches and you tighten your grip on his hair. “Don’t worry, honey,” his large hand cups your hip, warm and teasing as he lightly drags his fingers over your skin, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

****

2005

“Hi honey. What are you doing here?”

Hot knives bury themselves in your heart at Aaron’s voice, soft and low and not directed at you. You clench your hand into a fist as he walks over to his wife’s side, placing a hand on her waist and the other one on his infant son’s back. She smiles brightly and twists her face up to look at him, her body leaning into his like a sunflower searching for the sun.

You hadn’t thought much of the blonde with the baby in her arms making her way through the bullpen. She’d stopped at your desk—the closest one to Aaron’s office—and asked brightly if you knew where Aaron was, his office empty and the door slung open. 

You hadn’t made the connection, even as she shifted the struggling baby in her arms, calmed him down with a soothing rub on his back, shiny rings glinting on her finger. Briefly, you thought it was weird, but you vaguely pointed to the kitchenette, telling her, “I think he’s over there.” Only you didn’t think, you knew, because you’re still ever aware of his movements, his presence. 

You were still stuck trying to figure out who she was, why she called him Aaron. It all became clear when he approached, his eyes soft and his voice softer still as he placed his mug on an empty desk and went to her with his arms outstretched, his hand fitting itself on the curve of her waist. 

“Hi honey. What are you doing here?” He murmurs, his voice traveling to you and breaking you out of your shock.

Your chest tightens painfully and you look away, your vision blurring as you stare down at the dark wood of your desk, trying to force the tears away. You don’t hear her reply, still stuck on that one word.

Honey. 

That used to be you. 

Drive safe, honey, he’d say as he opened the door for you, jittery at the thought of you driving back home in the snow. Where’d you go, honey? He’d murmur when you would drift away in your thoughts, eyes unfocused until he’d bring you back with soft kisses on your cheeks and jaw. I love you, honey, he’d whisper when you were warm and sleepy in his arms, his fingers soothingly running through your hair as your eyes fluttered shut.

You tighten your grip on the pen in your hand, your eyes involuntarily darting back to them, two still figures in the bustle of the bullpen. Aaron smiles at her as she says something about taking their son to the park, his fingers drawing absent circles on her shirt. 

Just for a few moments, his usual stoic demeanor falls away at the presence of his wife and son, his dimples soft in his cheeks as he turns to kiss the baby’s forehead. 

It doesn’t surprise you that he forgets himself. Aaron was always hesitant with physical affection in public, but wherever you were, the whole world fell away. You stole his whole attention and he stole yours, anyone else a buzz in the background as he held your hand, sometimes in silence, but mostly as you enthusiastically talked to him while he listened with a smile.

He does the same now. Aaron takes his son into his arms and smiles when the baby starts fiddling with his tie, his dimples carving familiar half moons into his cheeks. It feels hard to breathe suddenly. In the 8 months you’ve been in the BAU you’ve never seen them once, the nature of the job and the tension between you two depriving you from seeing them again.

But Aaron’s smiles weren’t always hard to come by. 

You finally stand up on shaky legs, nauseous and slightly suffocated as you make your way past them and into the bathroom. 

You don’t see Aaron’s eyes on your retreating figure, a little startled, as if he just remembered you were there. For a fleeting second, you steal his attention again, like you so easily did before. 

But then Haley captures it again. And he turns back to her, smile only a little dimmer as Jack babbles in his ear, a small wrinkle between his brows as he stops himself from looking at the bathroom door again.

You don’t leave for another 15 minutes, stomach cramped and tears hastily pushed down your throat as you walk past them to your desk again. You hear their voices; a mixture of bright chatter and a low murmur and a high pitched, childish babble.

Don’t look, you tell yourself. Keep your eyes forward. And you do. And you almost make it. But morbid curiosity makes you glance at them again. 

This time Aaron’s eyes meet yours, the child he wanted but you never did cuddling closer to his neck.

Your breath catches and you turn away, walking back to your desk and feeling your whole body burst into flames. You sit down and turn your gaze firmly to your computer, fiddling around and opening emails you’d already read, trying to distract yourself from him.

“I have to go, Haley.” You hear him say gently. 

Her name is Haley. You never asked, but now it floats from his mouth to your ears, soft, suffused with love. Aaron and Haley. You wonder what his son’s name is.

Their footsteps fade as they walk out of the bullpen. Your shoulders relax the tiniest bit, air rushing into your lungs suddenly. You drop your head into your hands, welcoming the darkness and taking a deep, shuddering breath. You see him, in the dark. Him and you, intertwined on his bed, lounging in the park under the sun, hiding in a bathroom from all your friends. You can still feel the imprint of his dimples beneath your thumbs, the softness of his hair between your fingers.

Aaron walks hesitantly to your desk, blissfully alone. You feel him hovering over your shoulder and lift your head from your hands, not looking at him until he stands in front of your desk, one of his hands landing nervously on the divider. He opens his mouth, says nothing but your name before you cut him off.

“Was there anything you wanted?” You ask briskly, your voice a little rougher than it usually is.

It’s rude and definitely not something you should be saying to your boss. But he’s not just your boss. Aaron lets it go, for the same reason you snapped at him in the first place—you two have history, one he’s buried deep and never looked back on, one you’re still hung up over.

He clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head.

Does she know? You want to ask. Does she know you loved me first, does she know you called me all the same names you call her? 

From the look on her face when she first approached you, you know she doesn’t, but you still feel a strange urge to ask him, wondering if his reaction would give anything away. Your eyes meet his, all the warmth he reserved for his wife and once, you, gone.

You don’t ask.

Aaron leaves quietly, fiddling with his ring as he walks up the stairs and into his office. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x fem!reader

[torialefay]

Prompt 7 with either Chan or Lee Know please

-🦔

Whatever Makes You Feel Better. Period. ❣️

〰️ boyfriend!leeknow x menstruating!reader

〰️ synopsis: having a particularly painful period has left you feeling pretty crummy. that is, until your boyfriend gives you some much-needed relief

〰️ reader has period, but otherwise is gender neutral.

〰️ warnings: period sex (hands only for now... part 2 maybe?), minors DNI 🔞

〰️ word count: 1k

• you'd been holding your belly all day, pressing down in hopes that it would provide any ounce of relief. usually your periods were never this debilitating, but this time was different.

• once your boyfriend noticed, he invited you to sit in between his legs so you could lean back into him while he rubbed your stomach and warmed you up.

• minho wasn't usually the "sappy" kind, but when the time called for it, he always took such good care of you.

• as you laid back against him, you couldn't help but let out small moans and sighs of relief as your pain let up, minho gently rubbing all of the cramps and tension away.

• as he kept massaging with one hand, the other snaked around to find your own, holding it tightly while he tried to focus his eyes on the tv ahead.

• "thank you baby," you whispered into his neck as you smiled, relief flooding over your face. no, more than relief. pure bliss. you let out a tiny moan as your head rolled back happily, soaking in your new-found peaceful state.

• minho would have done anything to keep you frozen in time so that he could look at that face all day. he knew it too well. the face he'd always make you give to him, but this was the first time he'd seen it outside of having sex with you. he'd be lying if he said that it wasn't an instant turn on.

• "you don't have to thank me, jagi," he smiled, planting a kiss to your cheek. you felt as he shifted back in his seat a bit, giving room to a slight hard feeling pressed against your back.

• 'really? he'd be into this?' you thought. you weren't opposed to period sex, it's just that you'd never really... thought about it before.

• but you couldn't be for sure that's what this was about. you decided to test your little theory.

• "babe? can you massage a bit lower?" you asked sweetly, waiting in anticipating for him to move down.

• you were patient as he dragged his had from your lower stomach to the area just above your pussy. he pressed softly, kneading his way into the skin and then going deeper.

• you gasped at the way that it almost fully resolved the pain. your breath was taken away as you arched your back and leaned back even further into minho, whispering words of praise to him. "fuck that feels so good," you strained out, hoping he'd go on forever.

• and then you felt it. the bulge behind you growing even harder. you were partly hoping that he didn't know you could feel it, but the other part of you couldn't give less of a fuck.

• you heard his breath hitch before quickening, trying to still himself. he didn't want to get lost in this. not when he thought it would weird you out. but boy was he wrong.

• "you know baby," you started again with a teasing smile, "they say that orgasms help the most with cramps." you began to move your hips the slightest bit as you waited for him to catch your words.

• "i think you could probably use that right now, don't you?" he smirked back. he used one arm to hold tightly around you, locking you into him. the other hand went down just a bit lower, going down to start palming your core over top of your pad. normally, you were team tampon, but bedtime was always a time to take them out. you definitely weren't regretting that decision now.

• you felt all the muscles in your lower half relax as minho started rubbing his hand deeply into you, making sure to go over top of the pad so he didn't make a mess.

• he'd been with you enough to know exactly what you liked... and exactly where your clit was without having to go searching for it. he rubbed tiny circles around where he knew the most sensitive part would be resting underneath.

• it sent tingles up your spine as he hit the right spot repeatedly. you felt yourself grinding into his hand instinctively as he went, giving you more and more delicious friction.

• the harder you both went, the closer you got to your orgasm. you knew it would wash over you quickly.

• minho took the chance to take solid bites along the side of your neck. he was making sure that every single part of you would be distracted by the pain.

• as you felt him push even deeper, circling your clit and working it up until you couldn't take it anymore, he ran his tongue along the outline of a new bruise forming on your neck.

• at that, you lost it. you couldn't help but to let out the loudest moan of your life as your orgasm washed over you with such strong intensity that you weren't even aware you were capable of.

• as you convulsed around him, minho never stopped his hand, making sure he rode out every last chance to help you feel better.

• once you'd finally calmed, you breathed quickly trying to catch your breath, realizing now how dry your mouth had gotten in the process.

• "well," minho chuckled a bit to himself, holding you in a tight bear hug from behind, "did it help?"

• you rolled your eyes as an annoyed smile came over your face. "i think so. maybe a little," you joked, nuzzling back into him.

• he kissed the top of your head before resting his chin on your crown for a moment. it was almost as if you could feel him pondering overhead. after a final few seconds, he cocked his head to the side.

• "if that felt good jagi..." he trailed off for a moment before finding his words. "then maybe we could try a little bit more?" he questioned, almost nervously.

• you couldn't help but smile at how cute he was. you turned your face to look at his own.

• "is this your way of telling me you want to fuck me while i'm on my period, lee minho?" you cocked a brow, taunting him in the most sensual voice you could muster.

• "that depends." he slid his hand back down now to cup around your pussy. not to put you through anything further, but to claim it as his own. exactly where he should be resting himself. "would you let me?"

---------------------------------

✨ if you enjoyed, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging <3

#skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #lee know smut #lee know imagines #lee know skz #lee know x reader #lee know #lee know x you #lee know fanfic #lee minho x reader #lee minho #lee minho smut #skz minho #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #minho stray kids #stray kids minho #stray kids requests

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ good one | thomas hewitt x reader

♡ fandoms; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003 + 2006)

♡ characters; Thomas Brown Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; references to extreme violence, stockholm syndrome i suppose?, kidnapping

♡ notes; this was literally supposed to be porn but instead here’s some weird sappy stuff lol

anyways hopefully more fics soon, writers block and rehearsals have been a bitch and a half

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

It was a wonder you were still alive. That’s what you thought about, sitting and fidgeting in the strange bedroom with your ankle shackled. Was shackled the right word if it was tied with rope? Whatever. It didn’t matter. You were fairly certain you’d fall prey to the crazy folks running around the place soon enough. The group you’d hitched a ride with was already long gone- one you’d watched get shot point blank by the bullshit sheriff. The others….well, you heard the chainsaw and the screaming. It was an easy conclusion to come to, especially after you saw the bloody smears on the hardwood downstairs.

You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been hacked into bits yet. You’d been indistinguishable from the others- just another wandering twenty-something with tight clothes and next to no money. The only thing you could think of was that gas station. Your companions had been such dicks to the lady at the counter- of course you apologized to her. She’d been just as kind in return, she even snuck a candy into your bag of sodas and snacks. She was the one who’d sent you that way, towards the farm house.

You stilled, train of thought lost as you heard footsteps. Heavy and slow- they were somehow more intimidating than any angry stomping could have been. You curled your legs up defensively, eyes trained on the door. The person stood there more than a second, silent and just as still as you were holding. If you hadn’t been listening so intently, you would have thought they turned and walked away. But then there was some quiet mumbling- a woman’s voice, maybe?- and the door creaked open.

“Go on Tommy dear- I found a good one for you.”

You’d never seen a man so tall- with shoulders so broad or arms and torso so solid. He was massive. He was terrifying. And he was attractive. Once your eyes unglued themselves from his figure you finally took in the rest. Dark, thick shoulder-length waves. A mask that seemed useless as any sort of medical device thanks to the open mouth. Eyes that were dark but not brown. Maybe blue, maybe gray..maybe just pure black. Like a shark’s. In other circumstances you'd be reduced to a puddle on floor over him. But the bloodstains on his shirt didn’t go unnoticed.

You watched him closely, and he watched you just as alertly, stalking forward like some jungle cat…No. Wait. That wasn’t right. He didn’t look scared, but he was cautious, keeping some distance. Maybe a better allegory would be he looked like he was trying to corner a feral kitten- not wanting you to swipe or dart away. As if doing either was possible. You were frozen with fear, though found the courage to lean back a bit as he stepped forward. He grunted softly and persisted, nearly trembling as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

Love at first sight was a stupid fucking concept. That you’d always believe. Maybe something in you just broke that same moment, maybe you were just too exhausted to think even close to straight. Maybe both. But when you and this massive man locked eyes, there was an instant understanding. He was already yours- and more importantly, you’d be his. He just had to stake his claim.

“…you’re Tommy?” You practically whispered. He nodded quickly. You got a sense he didn’t speak much, but you told him your name in return and tried to think of anything to talk about to stall the inevitable. “…you killed those people?” You blurted for some godforsaken reason. He tensed, still hovering over you. “It’s okay.” You added quickly “I didn’t actually know them. They were kinda mean.”

He furrowed his brow just a bit and searched your face, for any signs that you were lying. Before he came to a conclusion, you gave a soft sigh, instinctively leaning into the hand that had raised your face to him. Something immediately softened about him, and he rubbed your cheek in awe. The sleepy giggle it caused seemed almost to startle him. It was like no one had ever been that soft with him. Maybe they hadn’t. “….this is your room right? Can we sleep?”

Tommy still seemed in shock but carefully nodded, undoing his apron and seeming at a loss of what to do next. He frowned a bit as he noticed your bindings and quickly undid the knot that kept you stuck there. His guard was down- you could try to run. But you didn’t want to. Doing so would only be tiring. You wanted to let go. So instead you smiled softly and simply opened your arms, letting him cuddle up with you. It took him a minute to get settled, and all the while treating you so delicately… like you were made of glass. He looked up at you, again searching your face in near confusion. He grunted in surprise as you pecked his forehead. His mama really did find him a good one.

#slashers #slashers x reader #slashers x you #thomas hewitt #tcm #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas brown hewitt #tcm 2006 #tcm 2003 #texas chainsaw the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #gender neutral reader #g/n reader

[juuuulez]

🎧 | agora hills, carmen berzatto.

somethin' different about you / love it when he hit and smack too / baby, lemme lick on your tattoos / that’s true that i like PDA / take it to a seedy place / suck a little dick in the bathroom.

NSFW, blowjobs, semi-public sex, cum stuff.

request a playlist roulette here!

It had been innocent enough. You’d suggested a bar you regular at, managing to drag about half the kitchen staff down. Beers were shared, maybe you had a few too many shots, but what the hell, who’s counting?

“Hey, hey,” Carmen whispers, shooting a panicked look over at the door. “They’re gonna realise. Someone’s gonna come in.”

He’s utterly freaked out as your nails scrape under his shirt, pushing the white fabric up and up and up. You get it high enough, before replacing fingers with teeth, leaning in to nip playfully at his exposed chest.

“Locked.” You mumble into his warm skin, pressing a few kisses into his chest before flattening your tongue, dragging it over the smooth surface of his pecs.

It earns a grunt in response, Carmen’s gaze still focused on the bathroom door. Outside, it was bustling, and it’ll be sooner rather than later that another patron needs to pee, and management discovers someone’s hijacked their bathroom.

But Carmen can’t help himself, a bitter taste on his tongue thinking back to the bar’s interior. Not the bar, the guys. You were a regular here, right? So, you had to know, how they all eyed you like a piece of meat.

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.” He mumbles, words tinged with something alike to jealousy, slightly condescending and definitely petty.

You bite sharply down at his chest, which earns a wince in response. Carmen’s hand moves up, clasping at the back of your head, trying to pry you from his sensitive skin. It works, for you move away, only to drop to your knees.

“Men are so goddamn weird,” You huff out, complaining mindlessly while your fingers work at his belt. It reduces Carmen to a nervous mess, his face fluctuating between the locked door, and you. “You don’t gotta be all anxious about other guys. I’m very happily taken.”

“Yeah but—” His voice tapers off into a sharp inhale, as you tug his cock from those old jeans. “They don’t know that.”

There’s more he wants to say, but it doesn’t come out, doesn’t even form in his mind. Carmen’s focus dissolves, forgetting all about the door, all about the bar, their friends. Your hand is soft as it wraps around his length, gentle caresses that have him quickly hardening, as if the sight of you down there didn’t do it already.

You move forward, licking a long stripe up the length of him, tracing a swollen vein. It ends at his tip, which you’re quick to wrap your lips around, mouth hollow as you mumble your reply through a mouthful of dick: “Then I gotta show them, huh?”

It’s filthy and Carmen is absolutely fucking done for. His hands grip the counter so hard his knuckles are white, panting and groaning above you while you suck him off, wet and messy, just the way he likes it. Spit is collecting in your mouth and dribbling past your lips, running down his shaft and collecting at the zipper of his jeans.

You’re quick about it, slick noises filling the space, hollowing your cheeks just right and paying extra attention to his reddened tip. “Please— fuck, please, can I?” Carmen doesn’t even get the question out, because you know exactly what he means, and you’re nodding as well as you can with him stuffed down your throat.

His hands move to your head, gripping handfuls of your hair and pulling you further onto him. Air forgoes you in favour of pulling each wrecked noise from your boyfriend, Carmen’s legs trembling with the pressure of an orgasm that builds and builds until he’s cumming hot strings down your throat. It’s salty and fills the cavity of your mouth, but you pull off a second before he’s finished spilling his load, fisting his cock and letting the few last drops land on your lips.

And Carmen is still panting, hair stuck to his forehead, unable to catch his breath as he watches you: using his dick to smear the cum over your lips, almost like putting on lipgloss, letting it seep into the cracks and crevices.

Words fail him as you hoist yourself to your feet, knees a little sore, feet a little numb, but ultimately uncaring. You bend over the sink next to him, pressing an exaggerated and firm kiss onto the bathroom mirror. The imprint it leaves behind is clear as day: a milky cum stain in the shape of your lips. You stare at it proudly, turning to grin back at Carmen, whose cock is hardening once more at the sight.

“Think that’s good enough?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

#carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you

[unreleasedwrites]

Caught You, Again

“You’re eyes seem to be wandering yet again, and your cheeks are redder than rubies.. You just never get tired of me, do you?

summary: You and Gun have been in the same class since the eight grade, and you developed a little crush on him that same year. Once the ninth grade started and you two had been paired as seat mates, you started to drop subtle hints here and there with the idea of your little crush on him for the past two years. Gun notices this and takes it as an opportunity to constantly tease you about it jokingly— until, he was no longer joking, and made a move by asking you out which then ended with you becoming his first and last girlfriend, because he made you into his first and forever wife. Yet, he never fails to see you in the not so hidden act of admiring him, which has him calling you a “simp,” and he continues to tease you for it.

character(s) included: Park Jonggun x fem!reader

cw: fluff, teasing, playful and flirtatious gun, gun is nice, swearing, use of Y/N, mentions of physical fights gun gets into, mentions of blood/bleeding/bruises, couple nicknames, kissing, established relationship, idk much about weddings, VERY SUGGESTIVE TOWARDS THE END!! this is really long tbh 😭😭

unwrapped on: Saturday Night, December 03 2023

wrapped up on: Sunday Evening, April 28 2024

published on: Sunday Evening, April 28 2024

“Need something?” Your seat mate suddenly questioned you as he shrugged a brow at you, who was blankly staring at him, obviously lost in your thoughts.

“O-uh— No!” You quickly replied and zoned back into reality, “Sorry, I was just thinking, I didn’t notice tha-” You added before he cut you off and said,

“If you like me, you could just say so’ You wouldn’t be the first girl to confess to me this school year.”

“Wha-! Talk about confident, also it’s literally the second week of the ninth grade..” You scoffed, a little nervous considering you have liked him since the eight grade so he technically wasn’t wrong.

“That isn’t a no~” He replied with a tint of his usual smirk.

“Wel-” You tried to speak right before he interrupted you once more “Enough with the excuses already, it’s boring.”

…

“Well?” He added and you responded with, “Well.. What I was trying to sa-” Ding, Ding, Ding— You were interrupted once again, but this time, by the bell. And it was now lunch time, so you two went your separate ways.

That was one of the occasional conversations you had with Gun, it just so happens that you two have been paired as seatmates since the eight grade and therefore, had to have spoken to one another atleast a number of times by now. They were just meaningless and short interactions that was just another way to kill time for him, yet those little conversations and interactions meant the world to you.

Fast forward into the school year and currently, it’s almost the fourth month of school— all of your classmates along with the new/transfer students have gotten to know each other, and it just so happens that you and Gun have started to talk more aswell. From little “Hey, about the homework-”, “Since were the next pair who’ll discuss, how about we-”, and “Could I borrow an extra pen, if you’ve got one?” To “What did you get for this number..?”, “Let’s hang out at my place, we could also plan our discussion for english tomorrow.”, which also turned to him simply grabbing things out of your bag when he pleases.

The formal little questions he’d usually ask you were starting to turn casual and friendly, not only his words but his tone is shifting as well.

You never thought you’d be invited to his place so casually and he’d lend you his jacket whenever you two are hanging out. Although, he insists you keep all of them since he loves the way it looks on you. It was weird. It was all so weird. So many girls like him, he’s constantly got girls dreaming to be around him as much as you get to be. Now, if you think about it— you never actually see ANY girls approaching him or hanging around him at all, aside from you, that is. People are constantly telling you about how you two must be dating, well you aren’t, but he’s never actually denied it either. He continues to tease you almost everyday and it just has you falling for him even more.

“Y/N?” Gun suddenly called out to you while you were walking out of the classroom to go home.

“Hm?”

“Dinner, just you and me. This Friday at 7 o’clock, how’s that sound?”

“Wait, what?” You rose a brow at his sudden invitation, “What do you mean, by dinner with just you and me?” You briefly added.

“A dinner date, with just the two of us.”

“That was a little, out of nowhere.. Don’t you think?”

“..Yeah.” He responded, “My bad. Maybe it was a little too soon, never mind about what I sai-” He added before you cut him off, “Wai- wait! it wasn’t too soon at all! Sorry, I was just taken a back— since I really wasn’t expecting this from you.” You said, visibly happy.

“Well then..?” He nervously asked and you responded with, “Are you kidding? That’s all I’ve ever wanted!! I’d love to, Gun.” It was evident just how excited you were. Suddenly all bubbly and red in the cheeks, Gun found that to so adorable. “I wasn’t expecting such enthusiasm from you,” Gun said as he laughed, “You’re probably in love with me, aren’t you?” to which you replied, “You asked, I answered! And would you have wanted a no for an answer?” “A no from the girl who’s head over heals in love with me? I highly doubted that response.”

Gun might’ve said those words so casually and care free but he really was surprised with how quick it took for you to say yes. Throughout the course of your friendship, it did become obvious that the two of you do like each other. But it was much more evident on your side, with how much people knew you like Gun and how you spoke about him and how you were whenever you were with him, versus how you were when you were with some other boys that were rumored to like you. Of course, Gun was slightly taken aback when he learned about all this— how could someone like you, a beautiful and simple sweet heart who doesn’t even like contact with people or going out that much, like him, a guy whose name is insanely problematic and all the rumors spreading about him are mostly true and have something to do with his violent side and the things he does outside of school, a guy who people quite literally fear.

But Gun didn’t really like thinking about any of that. All that mattered to him was how you felt and the adorable reactions that come out of you whenever he teases you about apparently liking him so much.

A few months passed since your first date and the two of you started dating after a while, even more time has passed since then because you two were now in your final year of high school. Despite going further into your friendship to turn it into a relationship, nothing much has really changed.

You guys were at your place this one time and you begged him to do skin care with you. He was reluctant at first but with your puppy dog eyes and some touchy convincing, he finally agreed.

“Stay Still!!” You scolded your boyfriend who kept moving when you were trying to apply a full mask onto his face.

“How am I supposed to? It’s so wet and slimy, kinda reminds me of something..” Gun replied.

“Oh shut it, I finally finished applying it, now we have matching masks on!! Come look at the mirror!” You exclaimed, “Tada~!”

He looked at the mirror blankly and slowly turned to you, who was overflowing with joy.

“Awh, don’t you like it?”

“It’s.. something, that’s for sure..”

You looked at Gun with your usual pout, to which he caved in and finally went along with the whole thing, saying it’s not that bad.

“Hehe, my baby looks so handsome, just as he always does~” You said as you admired Gun while squeezing his cheeks.

“You’re such a simp, you know that, right? Gun said, slightly muffled as he looked down at you with his usual smirk.

“Hmph! If you don’t want my love then you could just say so!” You said as you let go off his cheeks and crossed your arms with a grouchier pout on your face.

“Baby, there’s no need to be a brat.” He then grabbed your chin to kiss your lips (you were tiptoe-ing). Gun always knew how to deal with the unpredictable pace of your mood, given how you can go from absolutely simping over him to a pouting girl who doesn’t wanna talk about it at all with him.

“Your eyes sure as hell love to wander, dont they?” Gun teased. You went all pouty again so he coated you in some more kisses to make up for the teasing about you being a complete simp.

Those were the moments that ultimately led to the situation you’re currently in. Beneath the sunset in your favorite place, dressed in an astonishing wedding dress, paired with an elegant pair of heels, just the right amount of steepness for you to walk in, given your veil and dress that was trailing on your back. Holding an extravagant boquet with all of your favorite flowers wrapped in such delicate material.

It was all so ethereal. Gun, your soon to be husband hasn’t seen you. You were queued to walk down the aisle so very soon, which had you shaking in both excitement and fear. It’s finally the day you’ve been waiting for so very long. You knew you really liked Gun the moment you two became closer, yet you’re still stuck in the point where you were admiring him from technically— not afar because he was right beside you the entire time. But still, you were just an admirer in awe. And now you have the same last name as him and do tons of things together— cooking? hell yes, shopping? without a doubt. hopping in the shower and bathtub together? you don’t even notice him coming in until you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around you and start to wander across your body.

Another thing is that Gun may seem like a “cold” or reserved person on the outside, but he really does care about people that matters to him and knows how to observe. One of the things he observed about your “infatuation” with him was how you looked at him. He really saw right through the eyes you looked at him with— they only expressed one thing. That one thing was actual love, and it was not at all short-lived as people say what infatuation is.

It truly surprised him to see how your eyes never got gloomy or even got tired of looking at him that way even when time passed.

If anything, they became brighter and loving with every moment that passed with you looking at Gun’s dark eyes, wondering why he would ever want to have anything to do with a girl who’s had a huge crush on him for so very long.

He realized just how much importance those little details hold. As they say, the eyes don’t lie. And he sure as hell was able to experience that for himself.

He may not have wanted to admit it at first, but he slowly fell for you, in the way where you fell first but he fell harder. His entire mood and demeanor would change the exact moment that you’re around him. He could be beating up people and see that you’ve come to check up on him because he specifically told you that he was just going out to get something from Goo, but ended up taking way too long— hence, why you went to find him. He changed in an instant. Leaving behind the scene and making sure you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about it. And according to Goo, the way he talks about you is just “agitating”— which pretty much translates to “amazing” in your vocabulary, given that Goo doesn’t care about these types of things.

You’ve heard from various of his friends that he really does love you, because he doesn’t prolong any of his fights due to the very fact that he wants to make sure that he can get home to you asap. Especially when it’s late at night, he knows you like to sleep but he wants to be the one to tuck you in and cuddle and place gentle kisses on you to sleep. So even though he loves fighting worthy opponents that gets him turned on, no one can top you— he just loves that matching pj’s set that you tend to wear, with the small pink lace ribbons and the silk fabric, the short and small shorts with the sleeveless top.

Gun told you all about what he does for Charles Choi when he fully trusted you and you guys were already dating, and he didn’t expect you to stay. He was scared to tell you with there being a big chance that you’d freak out and leave him, call the cops, and do other things he wouldn’t have ever wanted you of all people to do to him.

Despite all of his fears and bad expectations of what you might do when you learn of the “bad” side of his, he still has you and always will. He really cant believe that you stayed after everything and still look at him the exact same way you did when you first met him. You somehow still retained the same feelings and love you have for him despite everything— and he is insanely in love with you for that. He loves teasing you about it though.

Going back to the present situation you’re in, you were now walking down the aisle as Gun absolutely stared at you in awe. Enthralled by how amazing you looked in white and how such a gorgeous woman was walking down the aisle to meet eye to eye with him and to hold him hand in hand.

The ceremony was breathtakingly beautiful, flowers of all sorts were surrounding the venue with just the right amount of lights that have been set upon with candles and dim lighting. The details in fabrics, decorations, covers, and even the architecture of the venue was simply incredible.

All of this “extraness” as Gun would call it, was for you. Gun wasn’t the type of person to have such a big wedding despite the small number in guests, but he knew you loved all of the things he had made to be included for the special day.

And even though Gun was relatively smart with his money, he was more than willing to go all out on this short event.

After all the agreements and words that the officiator had asked the two of you, you guys finally reached the most important part of the day, the one you have been dreaming of for who knows how long.

The officiator spoke once again, “Do you, Y/N, take Park Jonggun to be your lawfully wedded husband— To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

You looked deeply into Gun’s eyes, “I do.”

The officiator turned over to Gun, “Park Jonggun, do you take this woman to be your wife— to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?

Gun held eye contact with you with a subtle yet sincere smile, “I do.”

He then carefully placed the beautiful ring on your finger, which was followed with you doing the same with his. Just after that was the unity ceremony which was such a bliss.

Of course, once that had passed, came the pronouncement— After more words and hundreds more that you didn’t pay much mind to, the officiator finally looked at the two of you deeply and stated, “I now pronounce you as husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

And so you guys did kiss, for a pretty long time— With Gun’s hands placed on your waist and one of your hands on his shoulder, and the other nestled against his face. The crowd cheered for the two of you as it all happened.

It was all so, so, so, incredibly divine.

Once the ceremony has ended and the after party was finally about to begin, you kept chatting with the guests, more particularly your closest friends who were also your bridesmaids. It genuinely made them wonder how you could be so in love with someone. The way you talked about him was absolutely adorable considering they’ve met Gun before, and think of him as the luckiest guy on earth, and you as the blindest girl.

And despite not knowing many of Gun’s friends that he invited, they were still so kind to chat with you. They told Gun when he came by that he really was one hell of a lucky guy to have someone so head over heals for him. To which he only agreed with them before he went to attend to the other guests.

“I don’t understand how you could like him so much, he’s garbage..” Goo said as the other guys were talking amongst themselves at the same table you and Goo were at.

“Maybe to you he is— but he is just the sweetest to me, and he’s hot as hell too.” You replied, obviously lost in your thoughts, imagining Gun once again.

“Woman, what the hell do you see in him for him to be considered as sweet? Do you have any idea how much people he’s arranged the organs of?” Goo questioned.

“Oh please, how much have you?”

“Hey. I don’t like getting my hands dirty as much as Gun does.”

“Rightttt..”

Goo came closer to you and whispered in your ear, “Did you know that Gun has liked you before you even attended the same school together..?”

“..What?”

“Yup. You may have been led to believe that you were the first to like him all these years, but he’s just never told you that he’s actually a creepy stalker deep down.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Nope! And you could figure it out for yourself!” Goo exclaimed.

“Oh please! If he hasn’t told me all this time then he wont tell me now, why don’t you just tell me more about it?”

“Fine, buttt! You can’t tell Gum or even give him hints that I was the one to tell you all this, alright?”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that,” you replied.

“Alright-y then! I’m guessing you know Gun as someone you became classmates with in the eight grade, and became friends with in the ninth. Butttt, he actually first heard of you in the seventh grade, and although he wasn’t in your school that time, he transferred the next year so that you two could be classmates. He first saw you walking out of that school and he told me all about how pretty you were and how he’d like to be friends with you,” Goo explained.

“I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth or not..”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, just know that I am telling you the truth and it’s up to you to take it or not.” He said with a smile spread across his face.

Like all things, the wedding eventually came to an end, it may have been short-lived but it was truly memorable. Of course, what comes after the wedding is the honeymoon.

You guys went on a trip to somewhere tropical for your honeymoon, which resulted in Gun wearing almost nothing most of the time, and if he was wearing something, it’d be boxers or swim trunks, or a more formal outfit that just looked sooooo good on him.

There was this one instance where you guys were about to go to bed, and Gun would usually have on some loose pants or shorts, but this time.. He was wearing absolutely nothing, not even boxers or briefs of some sort. He casually walked over to your shared bed while you stared at him.

“Need something, babe?” Gun asked he tucked himself into the blanket you were also tucked in, but you were both still sitting up.

“Well.. No, but um…” You replied nervously, obviously pent up from the view you had right in front of you.

Gun looks at your eyes then down to his naked body (and mind you, you were wearing a cute yet small and slightly revealing matching- sleepwear set), “Hm? You’ve seen me naked countless times before, and it’s not like you’re a virgin.” He teased as he brushed some of your hair to the side.

“Yeah b-but..” You managed to utter as you were still straight up staring at his body, fresh from the shower.

“But what? Does my wife need help with her words?” Gun teased as he leaned in closer to you and slowly lifted up your top to place his hand on your chest. To which you got very tense and nervous.

I’m sure you already know what followed in the next moments..

But moving forward with a few more days that passed, Gun caught you staring— maybe even admiring one of the pictures that you took together recently, specifically zoomed in on him. You hadn’t realized or even noticed his presence so you were just looking at the picture like some teenage girl, obviously crushing on him.. As if you didn’t just get married to him to him last week.

You were cheekily smiling at the picture, even giggling to yourself at some point when you swiped through some of the other pictures of him and you. You just loved him so bad, that even though you had him right with you, you still resorted to pictures. Gun thought that was adorable. The woman he fell in love with, sat on a chair facing away from where he was sneakily stood at, was swiping away at pictures of him when you didn’t even know that you had him wrapped around your finger.

“What’s my dear wife up to this evening?” He spoke out of nowhere, suddenly startling you. This caused you to have the phone slip out of your hands, but he swiftly caught it and took a closer look at the photos you were staring at.

“What are you doing with pictures that you can’t already to with the real deal right beside you?” He asked as you got increasingly nervous by the seconds passed and you were starting to fidget.

“I was just looking at what photos I wanted to keep.. And what I didn’t want to keep, y’know what I mean..?” You replied.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, my dear oh dearest husband,” you said mockingly— “Why are you interrogating me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Little miss stalker,” Gun said as he sat on the chair across from you, obviously enjoying himself.

“Stalke—? Oh wait-! That reminds me,” your husband’s brow rose at your sudden statement, “Your close friend, Jonggoo, told me a little something when him and I were talking during the after party.” You added.

“And that is..?” Gun asked, skeptical of what you might’ve learned, knowing Goo very well.

“Well,” you shuffled around as you tilted your head and finally spoke, “Is it true that you only came to the school I go to in the first place because you saw me walking out there one time and.. yeah—?”

“That bastard— But, yeah. That is true.” He said without a change in expression and emotion.

You gave him a teasing smile and a soft “hehe” as you looked at him. For some reason, finding out that was true only seemed to make you fall in love even more.

“Oh hush, I don’t understand how much a person could like someone—” He said and he stood up to lift you into his arms for teasing him.

“Hey! Why are you carrying me?” You suddenly yelped. He dropped you gently on to the bed and he climbed on top of you.

“Woman, it’s not good to start something you can’t finish.”

“Tsk! My nickname is now woman?” You pouted.

“My apologies then, my wife.” He said somewhat mockingly to which you pouted even more, so he finally said it in a more sincere manner and gave you a kiss.

“Well?” He asked you as you were still in the same position, with him on top you.

“Well what?” You clarified while your eyes shamelessly wandered through his body, flustered with the position you were in and the teasing he was doing to you.

“You’re eyes seem to be wandering yet again, and your cheeks are redder than rubies.. You just never get tired of me, do you? Gun said in a teasing tone as he leaned in closer.

This honeymoon sure as hell will be going on for a long time.

notes: I think ill prolly put out a masterlist and about me post in like a month or two who knows, also this request has been with me for so long 😭 I am so so so sorry to this anon, please forgive me 😵‍💫 Also, I really hope that this wasn’t too bad and can live up to what you were expecting and requesting, I am so sorry if it doesn’t, I really tried 😭 ANDDD I accidentally deleted the actual request because I got a little lost with trying to navigate tumblr because I accidentally clicked the Queue button and yeah.. I don’t think I really proofread this tbh

- With or without proper credits, please don't try to steal or claim any of my works as your own

I genuinely appreciate opinions, feedback, likes, and reblogs

Once again, I hope this isn't too bad for a request, and I'll be doing more characters in lookism so feel free to request!!

#lookism #lookism fic #lookism manwha #manwha #webtoon #anime lookism #lookism anime #lookism fandom #lookism imagines #lookism webtoon #Park Jonggun #Jonggun Park #lookism jonggun park #lookism park jonggun #lookism gun park #lookism gun #Park Jonggun x reader #Jonggun Park x reader #lookism x reader #fluff #suggestive #lookism jonggun #joongoo kim #joongoo kim lookism #unreleasedwrites #kim joongoo #foryou #foryoupage #gun park