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elia-the-bibliophile · 3 days

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Hey I have this Charles x reader request in mind where they're in a backstreet relationship and someone is being rude to her while she's in Monaco? the rest of how the story goes is up to you:)

Protective Boyfriend Mode (Charles Leclerc x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count : 2,8k

Dating Charles Leclerc in secret has its perks.

For starters, Y/N doesn’t have to dodge the metaphorical tomatoes hurled by the public just yet. The judgment, the microscopic scrutiny, and the sky-high expectations that come with being a WAG? She’s more than happy to keep those at bay for now.

Y/N doesn’t mind that the world has no clue she's dating Charles. What really counts is how he treats her when they’re away from prying eyes. Who needs the world to know when she gets the best version of him, away from the cameras and the chaos?

His family, of course, is in on the secret and backs her decision to stay incognito. Honestly, Y/N doesn’t need the publicity circus that would erupt if they went public. She enjoys her peaceful, average life, free from paparazzi ambushes and social media execution.

Sometimes, Y/N can’t help but indulge in a little harmless online stalking of Charles’ exes—Giada Gianni, Charlotte Siné, Alexandra Saint-Mleux. These women look like they’ve stepped straight out of a magazine cover, and she has zero shame in admitting it. Envy is one of the seven deadly sins for a reason, and let’s face it, she’s only human.

What really gets her is trying to figure out why on earth Charles latched onto her after dating these goddesses. It’s like he stepped out of a sleek Ferrari and decided to cruise around on a humble bicycle.

She swings between feeling like the luckiest girl alive and wondering if he might need a stronger prescription for his glasses. The whole situation leaves her scratching her head and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

────────────────────────────────────

Today, everything grated on her nerves. Her hair looks like it could fry chips. Her skin is dull enough to blend into the wallpaper. The toaster has chosen today of all days to go on strike. To top it off, her co-workers keep bombarding her with Teams calls without even checking if she’s available. If she could rate this day, it would get a solid 0 out of 10.

“Can this day get any worse?” she mutters to herself, glancing at her reflection. “Y/N, you’re one bad hair day away from looking like Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Her laptop buzzes with another Teams call. She groans and answers, forcing a smile. “Hi, Harvey. Can I help you?”

“Hey, Y/N! Quick question—”

“Harvey, quick question for you: Did you check if I’m available?”

“Uh, no?”

“Exactly, so please, next time, do me a solid and check if I'm available before hitting that call button, okay?”

Just then, her phone buzzes with a text from Charles.

“Hope your day’s going better than mine! My helmet decided to play hide and seek.”

She snickers and types back.

“At least your helmet’s hiding. The toaster just gave up on life.”

“I'm really sorry about your day, ma chérie. But I promise to make it better. I'll swing by your favorite bakery and bring back a ridiculous amount of cakes just for you.”

That earned a smile out of her. Trust Charles to know exactly what she needs.

As Y/N tries to shake off the day's frustrations, she decides to distract herself by scrolling through Instagram. Among the posts, one catches her eye—a recent upload from Jasmine Tookes, her celebrity crush since forever. Jasmine looks stunning, as always, flaunting a gorgeous Yves Saint Laurent bag in cherry red that's absolutely to die for.

Y/N can practically feel the allure of the bag through the screen, and an idea sparks in her mind. The YSL boutique is just a short walk away.

“Maybe a little retail therapy is just what I need to salvage this day,” she muses aloud.

Without giving it a second thought, she grabs her purse and heads out the door.

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As Y/N steps into the YSL boutique, she's greeted by the scent of a distinct perfume mingled with a hint of leather. The store is relatively empty, save for a few tourists browsing the shelves. Undeterred, Y/N scans the display case, her eyes searching for that coveted cherry-red bag she spotted on Jasmine Tookes' Instagram.

From her peripheral vision, she notices a couple of sales assistants giving her a once-over, but no one approaches her. She shrugs it off, relishing the freedom to browse at her own pace. Finally, she spots the bag she's been dreaming of and makes her way over to it.

“Excuse me,” she calls out to one of the nearby sales assistants politely. “Could you tell me about the stock availability and the price of this bag?”

The sales assistant approaches, but when she begins speaking in French, Y/N's heart sinks. She's not fluent in French, and she quickly apologizes, asking if they could switch to English instead.

There's a momentary hesitation from the sales assistant, who seems to be holding back an eye-roll, before reluctantly switching to English. The demeanor, however, turns chilly, and Y/N can't shake the feeling of being judged.

“I'm sorry, but that particular item is not available,” the sales assistant replies curtly, her tone dripping with condescension. “Perhaps you should try checking other stores that may be more suited to your purchasing ability.”

Y/N's cheeks flush with frustration, her jaw clenching as she tries to maintain her composure. She can't believe she's being treated this way in a store she loves. Taking a deep breath, she forces a polite smile, trying not to cause a scene.

“Excuse me,” she says as politely as she can muster, her voice trembling slightly. “May I ask what made you say that to me?”

The sales assistant's gaze hardens, her tone dripping with disdain. “Maybe you should look into a mirror and see your own appearance today.”

Y/N's eyes widen in disbelief. So what if she's just dressed in a plain t-shirt and linen pants? Is minimalism suddenly not cool anymore?

Y/N retorts, her voice edged with disbelief. “Are you seriously judging me based on how I look? Last time I checked, being a customer wasn't contingent on wearing a designer outfit.”

As she speaks, Y/N notices some discreetly filming tourists nearby, their expressions mirroring her shock and disbelief. She feels a surge of vindication knowing she's not the only one appalled by the sales assistant's behavior.

Y/N's fists clench tighter at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she struggles to contain her rising anger. The sales assistant's dismissive wave and condescending tone only serve to fuel the fire burning within her.

“Madame, this is a respected establishment,” the SA says, her voice dripping with thinly veiled contempt. “Please take your leave.”

Y/N's jaw tightens, her frustration reaching its peak. She opens her mouth to retort, to unleash the torrent of words building up inside her, but then she stops. What's the point? Arguing with someone who clearly lacks any sense of professionalism would only waste her energy.

With a deep breath to steady herself, Y/N turns on her heel and strides out of the store, her head held high despite the humiliation burning in her chest. She refuses to let this one encounter ruin her day, but she also knows she won't be returning to that boutique anytime soon.

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By the time Charles arrived home, juggling two bulging shopping bags filled with an assortment of delectable cakes, he could practically taste the sour mood emanating from Y/N. Despite her attempts to shrug off whatever had bothered her, Charles refused to let it slide.

He set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thud, his brow furrowed in concern as he approached Y/N. “Hey, bébé , what's wrong?” he asked gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Y/N forced a tight smile, trying to brush off his concern. “Oh, it's nothing, Charles. Just a little hiccup. Not worth your energy, really.”

But Charles wasn't about to let it go that easily. He could sense her distress, and he wasn't one to stand idly by when someone he cared about was upset.

Before he could press further, Charles' phone rang, signaling an incoming text message. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he glanced at the screen, seeing the name Lorenzo flashing across it. The text sounded urgent, almost concerned, and Charles felt a knot form in his stomach as he read the words: “You need to see this.”

Curiosity mingled with dread as Charles opened the message, his heart sinking as he watched the video attached to it. There, playing out on his phone screen, was footage taken by a tourist earlier at the YSL store. His jaw clenched in anger as he watched Y/N being treated with such disrespect, her humiliation on full display for the world to see.

He curses under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides as he paces back and forth in the living room. His mind racing with thoughts of how to address the situation.

Charles then gently takes Y/N's hands in his own, his expression softening with concern as he looks into her eyes. “Why didn't you tell me about this right away?”

Y/N's smile falters slightly, and he can see the sadness lurking behind her eyes, but she quickly masks it with a playful tone. “Ah, you know me, always trying to avoid unnecessary drama,” she says, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. “Besides, sometimes people are just assholes, right?”

Her attempt at humor falls a bit flat, and Charles can't help but feel a pang of guilt for not being there to protect her. He squeezes her hands gently, his voice filled with determination. “You shouldn't have to deal with this alone, Y/N. I'm here for you.”

Y/N gives him a small, grateful smile, but he can tell she's still trying to downplay the situation. “Hey,” she says, her tone lightening, “at least people will think it's just a video of some random person being treated badly in a luxury brand store. They won't know it's Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, right? So, let's just let it go and move on.”

She tries to lighten the mood with a joke, but Charles can sense the underlying tension beneath her words. He knows she's just trying to protect him from the inevitable media storm that would follow if the video gained more traction.

But Charles can't shake the feeling of anger and frustration bubbling inside him. He wants to defend her honor, to make sure she never has to endure such treatment again.

Reluctantly, he nods, forcing a small smile of his own. “Okay chérie. Let's just focus on enjoying these cakes, shall we?”

────────────────────────────────────

The very next day, unbeknownst to Y/N, Charles decides to pay a visit to the YSL store. With a determined look in his eyes, he discreetly asks for the service of the sales assistant who humiliated Y/N.

Colette, the SA in question, practically beams with excitement and arrogance when she learns that Charles Leclerc has requested her personally. Straightening her posture, she approaches him with an air of self-importance.

“How may I be of service, Monsieur Leclerc?” Colette asks, her tone laced with enthusiasm.

Pathetic. Charles thought to himself.

He adopts a casual demeanor, pretending to browse the store as if looking for a gift for his girlfriend. “I'm looking for something special for my girlfriend,” he says casually, noting the way Colette's eyes light up at the mention of his romantic status.

Colette tries to contain her excitement, feigning nonchalance as she responds, “Oh, I wasn't aware you had a new girlfriend since your breakup with Alexandra Saint-Mleux. She is also a regular customer here.”

Charles decides to play along, a dangerous glint in his eye as he says, “Yes, my current girlfriend is a very private person. She prefers to stay out of the spotlight.”

Curiosity getting the better of her, Colette can't help but ask, “May I see a picture of her? Just in case she happens to come by, I'd love to be able to assist her.”

Charles smirks inwardly, knowing this is his moment to turn the tables. “Sure, why not?” he replies, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his gallery.

As he shows Colette a picture of himself and Y/N together, he watches with satisfaction as the color drains from her face, her eyes widening in shock and recognition.

Colette's apologies pour out in a torrent, her voice trembling as she stammers out excuses. “I-I had no idea, Monsieur Leclerc! If I had known, I would never have acted that way. Please, forgive me!”

Charles maintains a cool and collected demeanor, but his words are razor-sharp as he addresses Colette. “Your behavior reflects poorly on the brand,” he says icily, his tone dripping with disdain. “Perhaps they should consider terminating your employment for such unprofessional conduct.”

Charles's threat hangs in the air like a storm cloud, and Colette's eyes widen in alarm as she realizes the gravity of her mistake. She scrambles to salvage the situation. “Monsieur Leclerc, please, I assure you, this is not how we typically treat our customers. I'm deeply sorry for any inconvenience I've caused.”

But Charles remains unmoved, his defensive stance unwavering as he delivers his next line with a sharp edge. “I suggest you think twice before treating customers so disrespectfully in the future,” he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Colette can only nod, her eyes downcast in shame as she mumbles yet another apology.

Seeing the tension escalate, the store manager, who has been discreetly observing the commotion, rushes over to where they are. He offers his own profuse apologies, his tone filled with urgency. “Monsieur Leclerc, I am terribly sorry for the behavior of my staff. This is unacceptable, and I assure you, Colette will be disciplined for her actions.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Disciplined, you say? Well, I suppose that's a start. But perhaps I should take my business elsewhere, like Dior or Chanel.”

The store manager's eyes widen in alarm at the suggestion of losing such a high-profile customer. “No, Monsieur Leclerc, please, we value your patronage! I assure you, this will not happen again. Please, allow us to make it right.”

Charles offers a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate your swift action, but I do hope this serves as a lesson for your staff moving forward.”

He then gestures towards the display. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to purchase the bag my girlfriend had her eye on.”

The store manager nods hurriedly, signaling to a nearby assistant to fetch the bag. As they scurry to fulfill Charles' request, the manager returns with a bouquet of peonies wrapped elegantly.

“Please accept these peonies as a gesture of our sincere apology,” the manager says, offering the flowers to Charles. “We hope this helps to make amends for the madame.”

Charles accepts the bouquet with a nod. “Thank you,” he says, his tone clipped. “I'm sure my girlfriend will appreciate the thoughtfulness. She's far more forgiving than I am, fortunately for you.”

────────────────────────────────────

Y/N is furiously typing away on her laptop when the front door swings open. She squints at the figure entering the room, only to catches sight of her boyfriend holding something suspiciously behind his back.

“Baby, what are you up to now?” she teases, a grin spreading across her face.

He feigns innocence. “Oh, just a little surprise for my favorite woman.”

Y/N's eyes sparkle with anticipation as she eagerly stands up, her curiosity piqued. “Oh, do tell!”

In a dramatic motion, Charles presents her with the unmistakable YSL bag. Y/N's jaw practically hits the floor as she exclaims, “Oh, no, you didn't!”

Charles chuckles, unable to contain his amusement. “Oh yes, I did, chérie. And just wait until you see what's inside!”

Excitedly, Y/N opens the bag, her eyes widening in awe as she pulls out the coveted item. She tries it on with exaggerated walk, striking poses as if she's on a runaway.

Charles watches her with a mixture of adoration and amusement, his heart swelling with love for this wonderful person.

But then, amidst her excitement, Y/N's expression turns serious as she asks about the sales assistant.

Charles adopts a mock serious tone, his eyebrows shooting up in faux concern. “Well you know, she's just taking a little timeout to contemplate the error of her ways.” he replies, his gaze flickering with a hint of satisfaction.

Y/N's eyes widen in surprise, but before she can inquire further, Charles pulls her into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

“And also,” Charles adds, “they threw in some peonies.”

“Peonies? Are they trying to bribe me with flowers now?”

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, considering the ordeal you went through, I'd say they owe you a bouquet or two.”

Y/N playfully rolls her eyes. “I hope they at least remembered to include a card with a heartfelt apology from the SA.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “You mean the 'Sorry we were jerks, here are some flowers' card?”

They both dissolve into laughter, the absurdity of the situation not lost on them. It's moments like these that make even the most frustrating experiences worth it.

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sp0o0kylights · 1 day

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We often see Robin focused on her own love life (or lack thereof) while Steve collects more You Suck tallies on the board, but imagine Steve does find a girl he dates that he hits it off with?

He aces dates 1 through 5 and suddenly he's around a little less, his new relationship looking serious, and Robin isn't jealous but--

She is worried.

That's her best friend. Her platonic soulmate!

She doesn't think Steve would ever stop being those things--Her dingus has a soft squishy heart under all that hair.

Problem is, Robin's seen this play out before.

Had band friends drift away because someone's dating someone else and suddenly they're all wrapped up in each other's lives, friends pushed to the wayside.

She doesn't say anything though. Knows how lonely Steve is. How much he wants (and deserves) a relationship.

Then the worst possible fucking thing happens: Steve's new girl telling him she isn't comfortable with Robin.

That she doesn't believe girls and guys can be "just friends" and would Steve please stop seeing Robin so much? Please?

Her friends even saw him taking Robin out to lunch yesterday and thought he was cheating!

Of course she knows Steve isn't cheating. He'll prove it to her, right? By letting Robin know they can only be coworkers? And their friendship?

Robin hears all this at her and Steve's next shared work shift, and she feels the floor of her world give out beneath her.

Fear and hurt crawling up her throat because of course Steve can't tell whatever her name is why Robin will never date him.

Of course this chick clearly isn't taking Steve's regular excuses as an answer, and--oh God, what if Robin is losing him, isn't she?

Then Steve's done talking, clearly expecting Robin to say something, and oops she may have been panicking and not listening there at the end but she manages a very choked up;

"I mean if you think shes like, the one..." because what is she supposed to say!?

And Steve, the only person Robin's met who craves a relationship as much as she does if not more, frowns at her with a bitchy little twist to his face and says: "What part of "so I told her that was ridiculous and we broke up" didn't you hear?"

Robin gasps a breath, the world stable once again. She doesn't know when she started crying but she does register Steve's panic when he clocks it, panicking and pulling her into a hug.

"Oh my God did you think I'd agree with her!?" He says and he sounds a little hurt about it, she'll have to fix that, but presently all Robin can do is cling to her best friend and sink deep into the knowledge that he really won't leave her.

Even for the things he wants in life the most.

#3 month's later vecna happens and rather than robin losing steve to a relationship #she instead gains a second dingus when steve starts dating eddie #stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie stranger things

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angelplummie · 2 days

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TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS!

ART X TASHI X PATRICK X F!READER

part 1 part 2

this one is exposition and build up for the smut eventually! enjoy my princesses

tashi duncan stole from you.

in many ways, many times. the first was when she thrashed you in your very first college tennis tournament. you would always remember the sound she made, that war cry. it was like she had decapitated you or something. she stole victory from you that day.

then she did it again, and again, and again. every single time she played you, she beat you. you could annihilate everyone but her, crushed them all to dust. but she was the one person that would not be decimated. you didn’t speak off the court, didn’t look at each other twice in the halls of stanford. but she had this look on her face. this smug, knowing look. here to lose again? it said. and you weren’t some average joe shmoe tennis girl. you were really good. people that had no reason to bolster your ego had told you that, so you knew it to be true. you were fucking brilliant, and she had no right to look at you like you were dirt. you gave her a tough match, but still she looked at you like she knew she was going to win.

when asked about her, all you could say was “i hate that smug bitch.”

what she said about you you didn’t know, and not for lack of trying. you didn’t know if she even spoke of you at all. the thought made you angrier than when she beat you. once, when at the same party, she waved at you.“hi,” she said, and gave you that same i-just-beat-you look. she was taller than you, and craned her neck unnecessarily far to look at you. where did that stupid bitch get off?

she was this towering roadblock, the one thing stopping you from entering the upper echelons of tennis royalty. you had the fucking talent, you had put in the fucking time, you were so fucking good. but you weren’t stanfords sweetheart. you just weren’t. everyone knew you were good, but you weren’t the best.

from the matches you had watched, which was nearly all of them, you were the only person she played that gave her a run for her money. she didn’t sweat the way she did when she played you, the points were never so neck and neck. she should be threatened by you, and yet she looked at you like any other silly college floozy that was the best in her high school. tennis was your life, as much as it was hers. she stole your dignity in that way.

the next time she stole from you was patrick zweig. a sort of boyfriend, an in-between, getting there boyfriend. he could’ve been yours. you could’ve been happy together. but tashi duncan couldn’t have that.

you heard whispers about a night in a hotel room, a threesome, a twosome with a watcher, two guys jacking off on tashi duncan. they could deny, deny, deny, but whatever did or didn’t happen meant patrick zweig never returned your calls anymore. you could still recount the exact tonality and pacing of his answering machine message.

it was fine. it’s whatever. he wasn’t a forever boyfriend anyway.

but once a girl has sex with someone, she expects some degree of loyalty, some sort of goodbye. it wasn’t about him, he was cute, a good-not-great fuck, and never claimed to be serious about you. he didn’t matter. it was the fact she had him. together or not, she had him. he belonged to her. even after they broke up, everyone knew he never liked any of his other many girlfriends like he loved her. they used to walk around hand in hand, kiss, and it made you brim with jealousy. not because you gave any kind of fuck about him as a person, but because she got him instead of you. it was her. all her. she had stolen one more thing.

as time passed, your hatred burned just as bright. you practiced day in day out, hoping that somehow she could see you now, somehow she would know you were her equal.

then you met a boy. art donaldson.

you had known he was involved with her. the hotel threesome stories spared no details of the parties involved, despite factual discrepancies in other areas. but you figured, while she was dating his best friend, you were safe from the curse of tashi duncan. you allowed yourself to fall in love, softly, timidly. having met in american literature, you fostered a little spark. a love, barely the size of a candles flame, flickered in your chest. maybe, you had prayed. maybe him. maybe he was yours. you kissed at new years for the first time, and days later he met your parents. it was new, fresh, but it was love. you loved him.

and then she stole from you for the final time. in one foul swoop, she took everything from you.

it was the final of the college tournament. the two stanford angels playing each other for the victory. the court was red and packed, newly redone. you both wore white. whoever won this was guaranteed a shot at the open in the summer, and that was all you needed. you were so fucking ready. no one was better than you. no one. you had trained so hard, art could attest to it, hell, the entire school could attest to it. ask anyone who saw you around that time, they would’ve seen a scowl on your face and a racket on your back. those who had the pleasure of watching you play would’ve say it: you were fucking good.

that’s why it crushed you. across from her, at match point, advantage duncan, you watched as her knee moved independent from her leg. in between grunting and pelting, there was a crack, and tashi duncan was no more. a hush fell over the crowd as she cried, fell to the ground clutching her knee. you heard that. but you didn’t hear the ear splitting scream that came from your own mouth, couldn’t feel your body sprint, jump the net to crouch by her side. beads of perspiration rolled down her face, scrunched in agony. she bared her teeth like a cornered animal, and looked up at you through her squeezed eyes. her knee looked awful, so you stared at the rest of her. without thought you placed a hand on the top of her head. to comfort her you think.

it was so quiet. the only sound was her crying, her laboured breath stilling your heart to a lifeless thud.

“it’s ok,” you said,”you’re going to be ok, tashi.”

you remembered feeling an inexplicable sadness, a grief that you had never known before. you wanted to get rid of her pain, any and all of it. none of it came from you, you didn’t want her to have it. but that was so quickly forgotten. because as you moved to touch her shoulder with your shaking hand, it was eclipsed by another. a larger hand, the hand of a man. a pale hand. a hand you had touched before, even kissed. the hand of your man.

your eyes met, each with equal fear, horror and sadness. it was then that you knew that the curse of tashi duncan wouldn’t rest until you died. she would steal and steal and steal, even beyond the grave. he looked caught, because he was. he was caught. once you loved tashi you never stopped. he had raced into the court because she had fallen at a game he attended to watch you play, had touched her shoulder with the hand that had held you. he was not yours, as much as you needed him to be. his eyes twinkled with regret, but told you everything you needed to know.

your hand drew away with a flick, like it had given you an electric shock. you rose from tashis tortured body. his hand slipped to where yours had rested. this was all somehow not her fault, while being her fault entirely. you hated her so much it made your heart bleed. you didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. no whisper of her name, no nothing. from this moment on she was dead to you.

you didn’t bother looking over your shoulder to see if art was watching you leave. he wasn’t. the umpire boomed something through a mega phone, something like wait. but you were going home.

in the hall you bumped shoulders with patrick zweig. he was rushing to find her. he looked at you once to apologise hurriedly, twice to utter your name in recognition, and a third time to look at your back and wonder why you were so down. tashi was out. you won by default.

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frenchkisstheabyss · 3 days

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♡ ＧｉｒｌＵｎｄｅｒＹｏｕ ♡

♡ Pairings: gynecologist!seonghwa! x chubby!afab!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Summary: Scheduling your yearly check up with your OBGYN can be nerve-wracking. Especially when your doctor's Park Seonghwa. Finally getting up the courage to visit, you do all you can to conceal the not so appropriate feelings you have towards him. Not only is it inappropriate but he surely doesn't feel the same. Right?

♡ Word Count: 3.2k-ish

♡ Warnings: reader has a vagina and identifies as a woman. we're at the OBGYN so this is ultra vagina city. pervy Dr. Park Seonghwa, you too are a perv tbh it's mutual, shy/touch starved reader, body worship, nipple/breast play, fingering (gentle & rough), unprotected sex, cum marking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc), a lil rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), nonsexual use of the word slut (not in a bad way), it gets bitey for a second, examination kink, soft dom Hwa vibes.

♡ A/N: Listen, I can explain. It's all on @anyamaris for encouraging me to begin with. Blame her!

Important note: If you have a vagina go get it checked out regularly. Your doctor will certainly not be Seonghwa dicking you down BUT it's an important and sometimes life saving appointment sooo make it or I'll fight you. K, love you, bye ♡

♡ ♡ ♡ “I wanna be that guy. I'll wreck you right up, guy. I'll lie down face up, guy. The girl under you, guy.” ~ Lady Gaga ~ ♡♡ ♡

“Date of your last period? Any abnormal cramping or bleeding? Any chance of pregnancy?” the nurse fires off questions, tapping your answers into the laptop balanced on her hip.

Sitting on the exam table, your feet dangling off the edge, you try not to get whiplash from how quickly she whirls around the room loading a tray with supplies for your exam. The office is unexpectedly short staffed today, forcing her to play the role of nurse and human octopus. You understand how overwhelmed she must be but pray that she stops soon. Your anxiety was already bad enough coming in here. This nervous energy is not helping.

“Last question, honey” she says, turning to face you, “Oh, have you been sexually active recently?” She cracks a playful smile, clearly expecting your answer to be something that it isn’t.

“No” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. Look at how shiny those tile floors are. Has this exam table always been this cushy? Such a marvelous generic art print that is hanging by the door.

The nurse’s eyes widen, a hand clutched to her chest in shock, “You went to Coachella and didn’t get laid?”

“Nurse Kim! Can we not today?” you pout, in no mood to have this conversation right now.

Being a longtime patient here has a lot of perks. Getting closer to the nurses especially has been great for you. I mean, who doesn’t like getting the appointment slot they want every single time? But the drawback is that they like you enough to pick on you. Maybe it’s their way of breaking you out of your shell, getting you to be less shy, but you wish they wouldn’t.

Nurse Kim shrugs, miming the zipping of her lips, “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my business.” Placing the supplies on the table, she grabs you a fresh hospital blue medical gown. “You know the deal, right? No shoes, no bra…”

You nod along with her instructions, hopping down to kick your sneakers off. Finally she finishes and heads for the door to give you some privacy. “The doctor will be in shortly. Let me know if you need anything” she says, stopping halfway out the door. “You really didn’t bang anyone at Coachella. Wow. Girl, you’ve got to learn to live a little. You’re too hot not to slut it up!”

“Thank you so much for everything. Goodbye. Bye!” you laugh, inching the door shut until she’s on the other side of it.

Alone at last, you’re able to get out of your clothes and into your gown in peace and quiet. Well, “peace” might not be the word to describe what you’re feeling but at least you’re able to panic in silence.

You really shouldn’t be as nervous as you are. You’ve been coming to this office for years. Everyone’s kind and welcoming. They always make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of. There’s definitely no part of you they haven’t seen so you have nothing to be ashamed of. Still there’s one thing—one major, heart pounding, pulse quickening thing—that makes you too nervous to function every time you’re here.

Your phone vibrates in your purse and you contemplate not answering but dig it out anyway figuring a little distraction can’t hurt. Unlocking your phone, you spot a text from your best friend.

It reads: “Did you see Hot Doctor yet?”

You giggle to yourself, typing back to her. “His name’s Seonghwa and not yet. Still waiting.”

“On a first name basis are we? Seonghwa. That’s even hot to say.”

“Dr. Park, I mean. His name is hot to say though. He’s hot. I fucking hate it.”

“Just give him your number already!”

“Sure. While he’s swabbing me I’ll be all ‘Hey, Dr. Park. Wanna go to lunch?’”

Your best friend responds with a meme of Megan thee Stallion sticking her tongue out. “Plot twist. The lunch is between my legs, daddy!”

You’re choking back laughter and tears, scrolling your phone for the perfect meme to send back when there’s a knock at the door. You nearly jump out of your skin, shoving your phone back into your purse.

“Come in!” you shout, returning to the exam table just in time for the doctor to step in.

Everything moves in slow motion when Park Seonghwa enters the room. Ahem, Dr. Park. He is, as you and your best friend have come to call him, a hot doctor. The hottest doctor you’ve ever seen. His dark wavy hair’s pulled back into a high ponytail, loose pieces hanging to frame a face too gorgeous to look directly at. His bone structure’s immaculate, his lips soft and pink, and his voice…

“Long time no see. How’s my favorite patient been?” he says, flashing that killer smile of his. That voice. That smile. It makes you want to faint.

You laugh it off, hoping not to come off as flustered as you are. “Dr. Park, I’m not your favorite patient.”

Seonghwa takes a seat on a nearby rolling stool and spins his way over to you, making a cute woo noise when he does. It gets a giggle out of you which is exactly what he wanted.

“Who says you aren’t?” he asks, sliding in closer, his hands disappearing behind your legs.

It’s hard to breathe when he’s this close, staring up at you from between your legs. The smell of his cologne dances around you, a sweet woodsy scent that you imagine might smell even better on top of you. Just the thought awakens a familiar tingle between your thighs that threatens to make you wet the crinkly paper blanket beneath you if you carry on like this. You know that you shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a doctor. He’s just doing his job. And here you are perving over him.

“Dr. Park, anything else you need me to grab?” Nurse Kim asks, popping back into the room. Her appearance snaps you out of your trance and you force a smile to keep things normal. If you weren’t brain rotted and horny you'd swear Seonghwa had been reading your reaction that whole time. That he saw the effect he had on you and seemed somehow amused by it. But that’s factually insane. Get it together.

The foot rests behind your legs, the reason Seonghwa reached back there to begin with, unfold with a creak. “No, I think we’re good” he answers before turning back to you, “Lay back for me and put your feet up. We’ll be done in no time, okay?” You follow his instructions, laying back on the table, readjusting yourself however he asks you to.

Closing your eyes, you rest your hands on your belly, impatiently waiting for this to be over. Though Seonghwa’s interest in what’s between your legs is purely medical, the fact remains that you hope he doesn’t find it ugly. You shaved for this, used this nice pH balancing rose water soap on it. You did everything but put makeup on it and throw it in a dress. You feel kinda silly now thinking back on it but your brain isn’t exactly logical when it comes to him.

A few cranks of a speculum and cotton swabs later you’re done with the first part of your exam. “Good girl, you did well. The hardest part’s over” he praises, swapping his latex gloves out for a new pair. Your heart skips a beat at being called a “good girl”. He didn’t mean it that way but your body can’t differentiate between reality and how devastatingly sexy that was. Seonghwa turns to address the nurse and you quickly press your thighs together for some relief.

“I’ll send these off and go set up for the next patient” Nurse Kim says, grabbing your samples. She turns to smile at you one last time before disappearing from the room. “Remember what I said” she whispers, “Slut. It. Up.” Unfortunately, of all the things she’s skilled at whispering isn’t one of them and Seonghwa hears her.

Rising from his seat, he walks alongside you, stopping when he reaches your chest. “Just lower your gown for me for a second.”

You do as you’re told, carefully rolling your gown below your breasts. “So, slut it up, huh? What’s that about?” he teases, cold hands cupping one of your soft breasts. You inhale sharply at the contact, a thankfully normal reaction to cold hands touching you. Though for you it’s more that they’re his hands than anything.

“She thinks I need to get laid” you blurt out, caught off guard by your own bluntness.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, his fingertips pushing gently into your breast. “I’ll have to talk to her about that. She shouldn’t be judging people for their life choices.”

“I mean, it’s not really a life choice. I’m just not…I’m not a girl who…” you ramble, shutting yourself up immediately after realizing what you’re saying. Seonghwa pauses, glancing over at you, two fingers circling the perimeter of your nipple. It stiffens at the closeness, your touch starved body grateful for the attention.

“Not a girl who what?” Seonghwa asks, genuinely interested.

It doesn’t seem that he’ll keep going if you don’t answer so you give in. “I don’t know, guys just don’t hit on me I guess. I’m not that girl.”

Seonghwa continues his examination, flattening his fingers at the base of your breast and dragging them up to your nipple. They bounce back each time, looking rounder and fuller as if he’s worked some magic on them.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily it” he sighs, moving on to the other breast, “A lot of men are intimidated by beautiful women.”

Beautiful women? Did Park Seonghwa just call you a “beautiful woman”?

“B-beautiful?” you stutter, at a loss for what to do with yourself, “That’s really nice of you but I’m not…”

Seonghwa can’t help but smile at how adorable you are when he compliments you. You’re as good at concealing it as Nurse Kim is at whispering. Seonghwa knows that you’re attracted to him. To be fair, a lot of his patients are, but you are truthfully his favorite. Always so beautiful, always so easy to tease, and such a pretty pretty pussy that’s always wet for him.

“But you are” he insists, both hands cradling your breast, thumbs running up the side, “You must have a mirror at home, no?”

“Dr. Park, are you trying to make me blush?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows.

The pads of his thumbs graze your hardening nipple and your back arches, a whimper lighter than air escaping your lips. You catch Seonghwa quickly nibbling at his bottom lip, his eyes glimmering at the shock and pleasure painting your face. You caught him. You saw it this time. Really saw it.

Seonghwa knows he should stop here, end the examination, and send you on your way before he does something stupid. It’s just…that little moan you let out? It’s a melody he’s been fantasizing about since the first time you laid across his table. He has to hear it again.

“I don’t know. Is it, aaah…” he breathes in, one of his thumbs circling the tip of your bud, “Is it working?”

Slipping his left hand back across your chest, he palms your other breast, pinching your sensitive nipple each time he rolls his wrist.

“Yes, it…oh god…it’s working” you mewl, your mouth falling open, moans pouring out at the perfect volume for only the two of you to hear.

Your feet tremble in the foot rests, your legs still spread to leave your dripping, vulnerable pussy exposed to the cool air of the room. Hypnotized by the sight of Seonghwa playing with your tits, high off the electric current it sends through your body, it’s easy to forget that you actually came here for a reason.

“I should probably finish your exam” Seonghwa whispers, doing his best to ignore the hard cock pressing against his slacks. Your body may be tempting but it is technically his job to make sure you’re healthy too. His hands gradually cease their movement, gliding down to do away with the gown that was hardly hiding to your naked body.

“Fuck, look at you” he gasps, massaging your squishy belly, tracing your love handles, and rounding the curve of your hip to reach your thigh. His fingers dig into your thigh, savoring their softness all the way up to your core.

His gaze travels back up your body to those starry doe eyes that hang on his every move, “Think I’ll need the lube or are you already wet enough for me, baby?”

Seonghwa rubs two fingers along your slit, collecting your arousal on the tip of his glove. He brings them to his mouth, extending his long tongue to lick your juices up.

“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you” he hums, taking his time to enjoy the taste of you on his tongue.

“Dr. Park, please…” you beg, thighs pressing together again, the need for his touch unbearable.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart” he apologizes, his fingers immediately returning to their place between your legs. “You want me to finger that perfect little cunt?”

“Yes, please, I want…need it so bad.”

Seonghwa brings his lips to yours, your eyes gleaming with lust as they meet, “You need it, baby? That bad, huh?”

Two gloved fingers push into you, your pussy welcoming them with the tightest of hugs. “Fuck, yes, so good” you whine into his mouth as you begin to ride his fingers. Seonghwa dips his tongue between your lips, your mouths passionately crashing together. You grab the collar of his white coat, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss as his fingers work your core. Inside of you his fingers stimulate spots men who aren’t in his line of work wouldn’t even know existed. Some you didn’t even know could bring you such pleasure until now.

Your eyes squeeze shut, elbows giving out from under you, “Harder, Dr. Park, wanna feel you so deep.”

Seonghwa catches your head before it can hit the cushion beneath you, lowering it down carefully as he draws another kiss from your lips. “Only if you promise to be a good girl and be quiet for me.”

“I p-promise. Quiet. I’ll be…” you moan, throwing your hands over your mouth when he suddenly picks up the pace. Shifting between your legs, he tucks a hand behind your right knee and pushes it to your chest. Your palms are sweating, fingers locked together to keep you from screaming. Seonghwa’s fingers are much deeper than you thought they could go and his pace is too unforgiving for you to brace yourself for any of it.

“Ssh, ssh, you’re getting too loud, baby” he teases, coming in to kiss your inner thigh. Your juices stream down his fingers, soaking the thin paper beneath you. Hating to waste something so delicious, he begins licking around his own fingers. Between your lips. Around your clit. Anywhere his fingers send it splashing, he licks it clean.

Your hands begin to slip from your mouth, your poor wrecked little body going too limp to keep it together. Thinking quickly, you bite down on your hand just enough to keep the noise in but you aren’t sure how long it’ll last. You’re dangerously close to coming. You can feel it and Seonghwa does too. Your hole’s so greedy, sucking him in and refusing to let go. It’s just begging to come but he won’t let it. Not like this at least.

Reaching down, he blindly fumbles around with his pants until he feels his cock spring free. He groans into your pussy as he closes his hand around his cock, rocking in and out of his own grip.

“Dr. Park, I’m gonna, mmph, aaah, fuck…gonna come” you squeal, hips stuttering against his face.

“Fuck, yes, come for me, sweetheart” he grins, rimming the head of his cock with his thumb, “You wanna come on my cock?”

Seonghwa’s proposal has you biting down on your hand hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh god, yes, fuck me please. Fuck me, Seonghwa.”

Popping his fingers free, he grabs you by your legs and drags you down until your ass hangs off of the table. “Seonghwa!” you cry out, eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you. That stretch. That one exhilarating, earth shattering stretch, is all it takes to ruin you.

“Mmm, that’s it, come baby. Give it to me” he moans, hips snapping into your fluttering core. You expect, like any other orgasm, for your high to fade after the initial peak but it doesn’t. You’re still there. And your body’s giving out. You brain’s going hazy. You can’t take it but you want to even if it makes you go crazy.

Seonghwa’s eyes never leave your pretty face, never stop eating up how hot you are when you’re at his mercy. The sensation of his own high crashing down on him has him pushing your thighs together, the thickness of them making your pussy feel twice as tight around him.

“So fucking tight, shit, you’re gonna make me come. Where do you want it?”

“I, ooh, I want it…want.” The words are there but you struggle so very hard to find them. You dig deep, collecting the strength needed to run your hand down your belly and spread your folds for him. Your voice is so cute and broken when you say, “On me.”

Seonghwa folds immediately, pulling out to coat your clit in the thick warmth spilling from his cock. Stopping to catch his breath, he leaves it there resting against your clit. Both of you twitching together, his seed dripping down your pussy so that no part of you isn’t marked by him.

“Don’t clean it off” he instructs, kissing down your leg as he places your feet back in the foot rests, “Leave it so you’ll think of me when you’re driving home.”

Easing your fingers from between your folds, you pop them into your mouth, sucking them like a lollipop. “Anything else, Dr. Park?”

Seonghwa zips his pants up, searching his brain for any other pressing information. “That depends, are you free tonight?”

“Hmm, let me think” you muse, staring off into space for dramatic effect. “I can be. That depends on what you had in mind.”

“Well, I was thinking I could pick you up for dinner and then…” He blows you a kiss that communicates his plan wonderfully, “Dinner.”

You giggle, your sweet little crush on him more severe than ever, “Sure, I’d like that but, hold on, you don’t know where I live.”

Seonghwa takes his gloves off, tossing them in the trash can by the door. “You’re my patient, remember? I literally have all of your personal information.”

“Isn’t that, like, a violation of patient privacy or something?”

Seonghwa laughs off your comment, walking over to sneak in a goodbye kiss. “I’ve already violated your privacy once today, sweetheart. Can't hurt to do it again”

#seonghwa x you #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x female reader #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez smut #park seonghwa x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader

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chaldeanu · 3 days

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taste of home ノ aventurine

ꕤ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . requested by @yinyuedijun ノ i slightly changed the prompt as you said you’re okay with it. i couldn’t come up with any inspiration for an avgin dish, and anything else would require many many more words hehe so i just kept that “homemade” part. i hope you will enjoy the read! ♡

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 0.6k ノ gn reader — established relationship . soft bickering . making dinner ノ mostly domestic fluff but it’s aventurine so obviously a sprinkle of hurt comfort ノ vague mentions of his past

“you never eat at home.”

home sounds distant. aventurine is not used to hearing that word; he’s baffled at how easy it is for you to mention it in any conversation you spark with him.

“why should i? i have enough money to—”

“why shouldn’t you? just once in a while?” an offer, all you can muster with a shrug of your shoulders, knowing well that he would only get more defensive if you were to push him any further with a stern tone. “don’t you want at least to try?”

he doesn’t remember how the food he used to eat with his family tasted like. its memory mingled with the taste of blood, dirt, and dry rations he had to live on for some time. now that he thinks about it — now that you forced him to think about it — maybe that’s exactly why he wants to eat only fancy full-course meals at the finest restaurants. correct, he should get over this irrational fear, but it is so deeply ingrained in his core. an inseparable part.

“for someone so cocky, it’s almost weird to see how often you’re scared of trying new things.” you say it gently, holding his hand in between yours and caressing his knuckles with the soft pads of your thumbs.

“aww, don’t say that,” he chuckles. “you’re usually the one that runs away behind me when something startles you or asks me to do something for you, haha!”

“no?! i’m not. i’m doing fine on my own!” you huff, crossing your arms on your chest.

he grins and shakes his head at you. but it doesn’t look mischievous, not this time. even if you want to continue being stubborn, there’s no point in dragging out this silly argument that, frankly, is completely unrelated to the main topic. to which you return, with your gaze almost pleading.

“we barely used that table in the dining room since moving in here. i can make you something.”

he blinks a few times, tilting his head slightly to come up with a witty answer. but you ignore it, patting him to sit on the chair and yourself going into the kitchen.

to kill the remaining time, he plays with the cuffs of his shirt, picking off nonexistent lint from the silk, before he drops his shoulders down with a sigh. it feels good to just let the day pass, eyes unfocused at the glimmers of the afternoon sun dancing through the windows; he’s glancing at his phone every few minutes, ignoring replying to the messages from work despite them occupying his mind more than he would like to.

not even noticing when he hears your voice calling for him as you come back. the food smells great, and it makes him more nervous as he keeps staring at the dish you put in front of him.

you’re trying not to smile at the sight of him mouthing something under his nose, not sure what, but if you’re not mistaken, something along the lines of being too good for him or making him uncomfortable — or both. for whatever reason, you expected he would take it worse than this.

“you like it?”

“it’s fine.” there’s a pause when his throat ties into a knot, tears threatening to gather in the corner of his eyes.

unsurprising reaction. you sigh and get up from your seat, moving to the other side of the table to put a hand on his shoulder. with each reassuring rub, you take little steps until you’re behind him and your fingers slip into his hair, massaging the scalp in lazy circles.

“let me get my coffee. i will join you in a moment.” you kiss the top of his head and walk away.

and he’s thankful that he can swallow that unexpected surge of emotions without you sitting in front of him.

#—writing.#aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x you #star rail x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you

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dante-mightdie · 3 days

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I would like to ask permission to beg for more bodyguard!price. I’ve only ever seen Ghost and Christ almighty that post you made makes me only want age difference bodyguard!price forever

thinking about famous!reader who grew up in the spotlight so they’re just not very well-adjusted to johns kind nature

c/w: reader is a little unhinged and insecure, reader has mommy and daddy issues, is touch-starved and just wants to be loved, crying, slight nsfw, implied age gap, suggestive content, as always mdni

you really are kind soul, you’re just in the wrong line of business for someone with such genuine intent. you just want to make music, make people happy, sing your heart out and perform but life has a funny way of working out for people

this was never supposed to be your whole life, at most you wanted a little band that met up every thursday and shared new lyrics or riffs. however, with a winning combination of talent and an overbearing mother, you became a big name

you got swept up in tours, launch parties, award ceremonies and red carpets before you knew it. left you no time for a real life. all your relationships were manufactured up in press meetings about how to boost your reputation or sloppy hook-ups in the bathroom at whatever club you snuck off too in whatever country you’re touring in

john felt bad for you, he really did. that’s why he indulged your behaviour. you’ve never had a real positive influence in your short little life :( how else are you supposed to react when this man comes along? calling you sweet names, keeps a protective hand on you at all times, dedicates his entire life to keep you safe

if he wants to act like a husband then you’ll just have to treat him like one. that’s why you’ve taken to bringing him a glass of ridiculously overpriced scotch in your dressing room after each concert, placing yourself in his lap right afterwards with no shame whatsoever. he knows he should push you off, it’s the right thing to do

“did you like my performance tonight?” you ask, staring straight at him with an expectant smile. you give him exactly two seconds to answer before you hat your eyelids nervously, “what’s wrong with your drink? you’ve barely touched it.”

he didn’t have the heart to tell you that the expensive bottle you bought was being wasted each time you fill the tumbler with crushed ice before pouring the liquor in, completely diluting the flavours and aromas. so he just gives you smile, hand coming up to pinch your cheek in a way that makes your thighs clench before he raises his glass and takes a few generous sips of the scotch to make you happy

“you were amazing, love…” he grunts out, adjusting his hips with you sit on his lap. you pout at his response, wiggling your hips to get more comfortable and he curses his body when he feels his cock chub up against his thigh

“that’s all? I made the hair stylist try something different. didn’t you like it? didn’t you think I looked pretty on stage tonight? if i’ve upset you, you can just tell me you don’t need to act like this…” you ramble off, tears welling up in your lashline with a speed that can only make john sigh

his spare hand comes to rub up and down your back, pressing kisses behind your ear whilst he shushes you quietly. “don’t get so worked up. no need for one of your strops tonight.”

you shoot him a mean glare, one that might terrify literally anyone but him. he knows you’re all bark and no bite. you just need a firm hand to keep you nice and sweet. he’s not against offering that to you, as long as you don’t get the wrong idea :(

he’s definitely not encouraging it, he tells himself when he puts his drink down and manhandles you closer to him. letting you curl up against his chest and sniffle against the material of his dress shirt. he nuzzles his cheek on the top of your head before placing a kiss there

he knows you’re not trying to be a brat, you just want his validation. you want him to tell you how good you are and how you can be better. he can smell your insecurities no matter how much you try and bury them deep inside

he’ll shut this down soon, tell you not to let this become more than a silly crush. but not tonight, he reminds himself. tonight, he’ll do what you pay him to do which is to protect you from anything and anyone. if in his arms is where you feel safe, who is he to deny that?

#captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #captain price #price #bodyguard!price #mw2 #cod mw2

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kaizynofsickness · 2 days

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❝Just a sex doll?❞

Wolf Sukuna and bunny reader (this is like part 5, very short)

Warning: not much, but there is hints and allusions at sex, kinky talk and shit, some sad themes but generally Sukuna trying to be soft. Trying.

A/N: this was an ask from an anon (you know who you are), and I just needed some mild fluff in here. This made my pussy leak. I'm just saying.

How long has it been now? A few months since you've become a cute little cock sleeve.

Currently, you're sitting in Sukuna's lap, breast pressed against his chest, ruffling his messy and choppy pink hair, flicking his pointy wolf ears on top. Ever since he started to get more responsive with his tail and all, you've been touching him even more. Maybe you're taking advantage of being near a predator without dying.

He just sits and looks pass you, paying you no mind while you fuck with him, staring at the TV show of some bad slasher film. He hates predictable plots, and you're only learning that today from all the months you've been with him.

You start to tug at his ears softly, an attempt to get his attention.

Either he doesn't mind or doesn't feel it, but he won't look at you. The only time all his four eyes are on you is when you two are having sex. You're just noticing that.

The realization makes you huff; but you shouldn't expect much, anyways. This is Sukuna we're talking about here.

"'kuna." You dare to break the silence, leaning back to get in front of his view with a small pout. He snaps his attention to you, one of his large four hands going to the small of your back. "What, rabbit?" He narrows his eyes at you in question.

"i just wanna know..." you look off nervously, your bunny ears backing down on your hair, showing your uncomfortable condition. Sukuna hates when you delay like he's going to cook you if you say something wrong—your pussy taste good so maybe your skin will— "spit it out." He demands, his grip on your back tightening, nails poking at your clothing.

"do you... only use me for sex?"

Sukuna looks at you like a dumb bug in his food, tilting his head. You swore you just saw his wolf ears shrink down to his skull... his eyebrows knit together and he looks rather pissed. "Where is this dumb question coming from?"

You shrug and look back down, delaying an answer again. "Dunno. Jus' wanted to know." You meekly respond, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt to avoid his gaze.

He snaps your head to his by yanking your chin aggressive, earning a small whimper to pass from your soft lips. His grip may be rough, but he leans in to plant a gentle kiss on your lips, molding into yours with a small content sigh. His tongue poking on your lips, almost as if asking to go inside, and you don't even argue.

And, oh, you just love kisses. And Sukuna knows this, you always beg for foreplay when he fucks you dumb, especially when you're looking for affirmation to know you're doing good. So you don't even dare fight back and stop fidgeting with things and lean onto his broad chest, gripping his shoulders gently while sitting in his lap.

He breaks apart with a heavy sigh, eyes finally on you. All of them.

"you truly are a dumb bunny." He scoffs out a laugh, "give me a good reason why I would bathe a slut that I only wanna fuck?" He keeps his grip on your chin to make you look at him, his lips only a few inches away from yours. "Why would I eat out a sex toy? Why would I compliment you how well you do if you're just a fling for me? Waste my time on a whore?" He rolls his eyes and his low tone is laced with mocking intentions, like he's calling you dumb in so many different ways.

"Please, bunny, get some sense for crying out loud."

You process all his words, ignoring the fact he just called you stupid and look at him with those cute doe eye —that look better with tears of bliss in them— "so—"

"of course not, rabbit. Damn." He cuts you off with a bonk on your head, making your bunny ears flop.

He was so aggressive with you, but you guess this is his way, hanging out with you, his aftercare and even his preparations, to show he cares for you somewhat.

Your little cotton tail starts to throb and you wear a cute cheeky smile. You lean into his chest while he watches the show and listen to his negative comments.

If he was to fuck you right now, you wouldn't be so mad.

This whole time I was thinking of "tell me, tell me, tell me yooouuu, want me, want me, want me toooo."

˚꩜⋆.°⭑Do not copy, translate, or steal in any way, reblogs are appreciated and allowed.

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uranometrias · 2 days

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nobody ever loved me like you do, spencer reid

just a little prompt i couldn't get out of my head. this is majority fluff, it got kind of heavy towards the end, but no smut because i'm a coward, reader is a university student, there's an age gap between reader + spencer, unspecified, but reader is over 22. based off of 'pov' by ariana grande.

this absolutely got long as shit, i don't know how to be normal. (5.6k wrds)

"what's on your mind?" you hadn't realized you'd gone quiet until you feel the dip of the couch. it takes a moment to snap out of the little moment you've dug yourself into, but when you do you're pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the couch next to you. he grabs hold of the book you'd haphazardly discarded, and flips it over. you imagine internally he's tsking at you, he was always reminding you to be careful of the spine of the books you read, but you're happy he doesn't make a move to scold you about it now. instead, he closes it, and places it in his lap, letting his eyes trace all over your pretty face.

"is everything okay?" he prods, and in truth, you were fine. you didn't really know why you'd gotten so lost in your head, it just happened sometimes. domesticity was still fairly new, and despite the fact that your relationship with spencer had gotten to the point where you both were comfortable staying at each other's places for long periods of time, you still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. spencer was the first guy you'd been with that was older, already established, had a 'big boy job' as you so eloquently labeled it. he had security.

not that you were some lazy, unprepared individual letting your life slip by, but you were still figuring things out. you were in university, and you had big dreams and hopes for your future, it just felt like it was taking forever to get there. to your future. everyone was always telling you not to wish away your youth, but by law you were no longer a child, you hadn't been for a while. your twenties were meant to be for 'figuring things out', finding yourself all over again, or that's what you were always hearing. over time it felt easier said than done.

the point was when you were still uncertain about what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing, it was hard to feel grown up. especially when you had a boyfriend like spencer who was always doing something to raise the bar for humanity. he was a genius, he worked for one of the most prestigious units in the fbi, he was in the fbi... that in itself was an accomplishment. he had phds, bachelor degrees, and an extensive knowledge of literature in numerous languages and texts. to top it all off, he really was a great boyfriend.

you supposed it was just you feeling a bit insecure. you didn't believe that he expected too much of you, but that didn't stop you from putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. "everything's fine." you promise, and you tack on a warm smile to really sell it. the action triggers an involuntary smile from spencer, and you feel a bit faint, just because he's so pretty. "i was just watching you read." you admit, and it was true, you had gotten a bit lost in how quickly spencer was speeding through his own book. it didn't trigger insecurity, it just left you in awe at how absurdly lucky you were to have bagged spencer.

"yeah?" and he's got this edge to his voice that he usually gets when he's tired, sleepy, content. it was comforting, knowing that he was comfortable being here, like this with you. "are you sure that you're alright?" and he's leaning forward, hand cupping your cheek as he rubs his thumb over your jaw, and you lean into him. "you know you can talk to me about anything." he adds, and he's perceptive. you're certain that part of this has to do with his job, and the other part has a lot to do with the fact that he knows you so well.

"i know." you answer instantly, and you bring your hand up to hold over top his. "trust me, i know. that's why i like you so much." you beam brightly, and you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips. it's a peck, and it sounds like one with the way that your lips smack together. you note his disappointment when you pull away just as he moved to kiss you a bit more fiercely. you find yourself giggling a bit as he pouts at you, and you lean in to offer him another kiss.

"like?" he asks, and you know he's fishing, but for what you're not sure. his eyes never look as bright as they do when he's sitting across from you. it offers you a bit of an ego boost to know that someone as handsome as your spencer consistently looks so enamored and enraptured with you. "i thought that we were a little past like..." he says, and your nose scrunches up at his big doe-eyed stare. "am i wrong about that?" and he holds his breath.

"no, you're right." you promise, and he relaxes. "we're past that." spencer looks relieved, and you wonder sometimes what's going on in his mind. he doesn't say anything for a while, he just looks at you, his thumb continues to draw soothing circles on your face, and you think you might be convinced to fall asleep if he keeps it up. "i'm sorry." you offer, and spencer's immediately shaking his head at you.

"don't apologize." he presses, and he's peeling his hand away from your face. now it's your turn to be disappointed. "and if you don't feel like we're past the 'i like yous'... that's okay too." and he looks sad now. it's your least favorite expression on him, and you wonder if you've done something wrong. "i don't want you to feel like you're rushing yourself, okay? or like you're forcing yourself to feel anything that you don't." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inward, face contorting.

"i don't feel that way." you deny sternly. spencer's head tips to the side, curls following along, and the urge to run your hands through his hair almost chokes you out. "spencer, i don't feel that way." you reiterate, and you hate that his expression doesn't change. you hate that he looks like he doesn't believe you. "i have too many feelings for you." you admit, and you shake your head. "all of the feelings." you insist, and the problem is that you haven't managed to fully verbalize what that means. spencer's told you that he loves you, often.

you haven't managed to say it back, but not because you don't believe it. it's more so out of worry that once you tell him, things will get too real. you'll grow too comfortable, and by-proximity expose parts of yourself that spencer might not be ready for. things that'll make him run for the hills, and take his sweet i love yous with him. "that's a lot of feelings." spencer replies, and he sighs deep, chest moving with the action. you smile, mostly to ward off the tension.

he doesn't return it, and you suddenly feel anxious. "do you want-" he trails off, and he looks conflicted. "if you wanted to break up..." and your heart sinks. "you would tell me, wouldn't you?" he asks, and you immediately reach out for him, his hands curling into yours as you interlock your fingers. you want to slam your head into a wall, mostly for worrying him in this way. The last thing you'd been thinking about was a breakup, in fact, you'd finally resided yourself to the fact that you were in this relationship as long as spencer wanted you.

"do you think that's what this is about?"

"isn't it?" his quick retort makes you frown, and now you're facing one another with matching pouts. "i just want you to trust me with your feelings... all of them." he explains. "even the ones i might not enjoy the most." he treads lightly, and you find that there's nobody in the world who could matter more to you. "and i'm sorry if i haven't been doing enough to let you know that." and you huff in annoyance, but not with him. never with him. with yourself for overthinking.

"you've got it all wrong." you tell him, and you hope your words sound as definitive as they feel. "a breakup is the farthest thing from my mind." you shuffle a bit on the couch, mostly to invade the space he just took. you don't stop moving until he's back in your orbit, your knees brushing against his leg. "i've never met anyone like you before." and it feels cliche, but you suppose you've earned the right to quote the words, because they're true. "i think as far as expectations for boyfriends go, you managed to smash through them all."

spencer finds himself nervous under the onslaught of kind words. he can't look away from you though, because it's so rare when you let him into your head. despite all his profiling skills, you were still almost completely a mystery. he understood your physical cues, but the emotional ones were still hard to pinpoint. "i think sometimes i still keep waiting for you to realize how amazing you are..." and he has that annoying feeling of giddiness in his stomach. it feels childish, but he adores the rush loving you continues to give him.

"i think i'm a little aware." he says, and you laugh. your hands reach out, and now you're the one holding his face. he thinks it's a comfort thing of yours, the way you like to hold onto him when you're talking. his apprehension towards touch was no match for the way your hands on his face brought him a feeling of comfort like nothing else.

"and you still want to be with me?" you ask, and you don't sound bashful, more confused than anything else. spencer's confusion soon matches your own, his eyebrows furrowing as he recites your words over and over in his head. what sort of question was that? "i just mean that there's so many types of women out there... you work with so many." and your mind drifts to his closeness with the girls he worked with in the fbi. namely jennifer jareau.

you'd only met her a few times, you knew she was married with sons, but you couldn't shake the thought that if she wanted him she could have him. she was older, more confident, disastrously pretty. "i just don't understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me." you express, and spencer is flabbergasted. he forces you to peel your hands from his face, instead choosing to hold your hands and squeeze them gingerly.

"someone like you?" and he wants you to get it all out, every last bit of it, mostly so that he can correct every incorrect notion about yourself that you expose.

"someone who's immature, naive, inexperienced, uncertain about almost every major decision... you know? someone like me." you divulge, and he winces. "you've got so much going for you, i just don't want you to feel like i'm holding you back." you admit. "so when i saw you reading... i don't know-" you trail off, and spencer's eyes shoot across the room to his own discarded book. "i guess i just remembered how incredible you are, and how severely inadequate i must be in comparison." and your voice gets quieter as you finish.

"you could never hold me back." he states firmly. "and even more than that... i don't think it's actually possible for someone to really hold you back." he admits, and you feel him beginning to start on a tangent, though you don't mind. they were far and few in between these days. "to me it always seemed more like an excuse people use to place blame on someone else for their shortcomings." spencer's let go of your hands, and you watch them as he gestures boisterously. "for everything i'm good at, there's so many areas where i fall short."

you don't think you've ever loved him more.

"and who says phd's and fast reading skills are what make a person better suited or fit for anything?" and he knows that you want to rebuttal, so he continues so you don't get the chance to. "my skills help me with the job that i do... we can agree that's true, right?" he asks, and you nod your head. "right. but, you don't want to have my job, do you?" he asks, and your nose curls up. you thought that what spencer did was admirable, you loved celebrating the victories with him, you knew it was important, but you don't think you had it in you.

"no, i guess not." you disagree.

"and you don't need to be called 'doctor' or hold a gun, or kick down doors, in order to be... a suitable life partner."

"you're not kicking down any doors, spencer." you crack a joke, and you like that he laughs, it's the kind that morphs into a toothy smile.

"maybe not, i just mean that out of the two of us, you're not the one who needs to worry about not being adequate... i don't think there's anything in existence that would make me not want to be with you." and you feel bashful, but know full well that you can't pull your eyes away from him. "you're a lot to lose." he exhales, and you blink. "and you don't need doctorates or much of anything for that to be the case." spencer beams a little bit, "you captivate people without even realizing it sometimes." spencer's hand moves to rest on your thigh.

"you think so?"

"sometimes i try and figure out how i got so lucky, and i hope that i keep doing whatever it takes to make you stay." he admits. "does that make sense?" he asks, and you feel your heart wanting to burst out of your chest.

"it makes a lot of sense." you agree. "and i can guarantee that as long as you want me, you'll have me." you promise.

"and if i want you forever?" he asks, and you smile despite yourself.

"then i guess you're stuck with me forever, doctor reid." and he likes the thought a lot more than he anticipated. he thinks that's why he can't ignore the urge to kiss you. he leans forward, lips overtaking yours like a magnet being pulled towards a kindred force. you almost pounce, finding yourself rooted on top of his lap, fingers finally finding solace in his hair, as his hands scope out your waist and the curve of your hips.

you hum when his lips peel away from yours, landing on your neck as he peppered the space with kisses and small bites. kissing spencer was a surefire way to get you both started down a path of insatiability. it was dangerous, but you supposed with the conversation context in mind, it made perfect sense for this to be the end result. still, it feels like there's more to say, and you suppose that it's why you tighten your hold on his hair just slightly, craning your neck to give him all the access he needs. "spence?" you gasp.

he doesn't verbally acknowledge you, instead his arms loop around you, bringing you closer as he proceeds to leave hickeys in areas that would be much too difficult to hide. "spence..." you try again.

"i'm listening." he promises before he's placing a kiss just behind your ear. it makes you squirm, suddenly feeling lightheaded as his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

"can you tell me again?" you ask, and you don't want to ruin the moment, especially after he just sweetly poured his heart out to you. "tell me how you feel about me..." you instruct a bit more impatiently. spencer's more interested in leaving more marks on your skin, but he also enjoys the vulnerability that comes with expressing himself to you. he pulls away from your neck with one last peck, before his lust-filled gaze is locked on yours. you've taken to raking your nails through his hair, gently dragging against his scalp.

"you still don't know?" he asks, and part of you thinks he's doing this on purpose. it's not until you register the slight upturn of his lips that you recognize that he's teasing you.

"is it so bad that i want to hear it again?" you press, and you're feeling a bit impatient, mostly because you're itching to finally spit the three word phrase out, but you want him to say it first.

"no." he denies, head shaking. "it's not bad at all, and i don't mind telling you, but, can you ask me the right way?" and you feel the shift, the way his fingers finally slip under your shirt. it makes you jump, the way his fingertips trace over the skin of your lower back. "what are you fishing for, pretty girl?" you don't have the courage to stare at him anymore, instead you find your head glued to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, as your arms looped around him.

"i'm not fishing." you deny, and spencer presses a swift kiss to the top of your head. despite the desire to 'get to the good part' that you know you both feel, you still enjoy this part. the clinginess, the way he showered you in attention and affection that you had never believed yourself worthy of. he loved you so openly, so easily. it never felt like a burden, it never felt like something he had to try too hard at. you liked that, you liked that he made falling in love so easy.

"no?" he doesn't sound convinced. "what are you hoping i'll say then? i know you have an idea." he says and his chin is resting on the top of your head as he adjusts you on his lap. the tension still rests in the air, but he's holding you like he's comforting you almost, arms looped around you in an almost-hug that feels warm and comfortable and familiar. it's the kind that you could get lost in, fall asleep in. maybe you will, just as soon as you get through this last little emotional hoop.

"you don't know everything."

"did i say that?" he corrects you lowly, he's not impatient with you, and you wonder how long it took him to garner enough stamina to keep up with your sass.

"no." you deny, and he hums in agreement. you've taken to running your hands up and down his back, palms closing and opening as you try and quiet your anxiety. "i want to hear you say that you love me again." you admit, and it feels like a lump is forming in your throat. "i know that you do." you add a second after. "but sometimes i like to hear it anyway..." you clear your throat. "it makes me feel-" and you trail off, because you haven't really gotten over this hurdle.

spencer's smiling, and you know that he is, because as much as he knows you, you think you know him a little bit too. "how does it make you feel?" he asks, and you shake your head, eliciting an amused sort of exhale. "you can tell me anything." he reminds you, and of course you know that. "or we could move on... if it's too much to say right now." he offers you an out like the gentleman he always has been. "do you want to go back to before?" and you definitely want to kiss him.

maybe do a bit more than kiss.

"yes." you agree, but when it seems like he's about to move, you hold him even tighter to you. "wait, no." you deny, and he's exhaling through his nose. you cringe, because you know that sometimes you can be indecisive, but you think about what he'd told you earlier. you remind yourself that he wanted you, and you calm down. "i want to kiss you again." you start, and he doesn't say anything, because he knows you're not finished. "but i want to finish our conversation first." you huff, and he's surprised, in a pleasant sort of way.

"we can do that." he promises, "what do you want to tell me?"

"i like when you tell me that you love me." you admit, and you think it's good that you're not looking at him. you also like that he's still lightly dragging his fingers along your waist, it makes you shy, but you welcome it. "it's not something that you just tell everyone, so i like that you tell me, even though i haven't said it back." you feel like you're losing your breath as you rush to get it out. "and i like how what you said earlier makes me feel."

"how's that?" and spencer is spencer. he likes to drag things like this out, he likes for you to elaborate, to explain yourself. you suppose he likes to hear you just as much as you like to hear him.

"i don't know how to express it really, but it feels nice. 'cause you always sound like you mean it when you say it." you freeze when his fingers stop their slow journey, but you don't have time to focus on that right now. "not like butterflies, but it's like stabilizing." you shrug your shoulders. "and it's not the sort of thing that feels like it comes with some sort of price. like i don't hear it, and think 'oh he's only saying this because he wants to sleep with me', it doesn't-" you inhale. "it doesn't make me anxious or anything."

spencer's disappointed that his memory mostly works for things he's seen rather than heard, because he wants to relive this conversation for the rest of his life. it's a bit unheard of, especially in his lifetime. he's seen people in love, he's witnessed incredible relationships, but nothing he's seen has ever compared to the way that you manage to make him feel. he's had girlfriends, one-night-stands, experimentations, and things in between that felt like they could be the real thing, eventually. being with you though feels easy.

even when things go wrong, when you're too stubborn to communicate, and he's too tired to fight for you to, it still feels easy. like the struggles that come with your relationship are struggles he's willing to deal with. you're someone he's willing to deal with.

"it makes me want to stay." you offer, and it's scary, mostly because you've got the world's worst habit of running away when things get too real. you packed your bags at the first inconvenience, it was who you were, who you had been before spencer. you didn't stick around to fight for your relationships, you didn't let anyone fight for you either. "like... like even if things go horribly wrong, it'll still be okay as long as you still sound like you mean it when you say i love you."

you don't think you'll cry, but you do think once you're all finished, you'll want to stay wrapped up in him like this.

"i've just never met anyone that makes life make so much sense." and your leg is slightly shaking, and you're burrowing even deeper into his chest, holding him just a bit tighter. "so please... can you tell me again?" you ask, and your hands have taken fistfuls of his shirt, curling just slightly as you try and will your heartbeat to slow.

"you all done?" he asks, and you nod your head, all done with talking for now. "i'm so proud of you." and your confusion is back, as well as your ability to talk.

"what for?" you inquire, and he unloops his arms from around you. you don't want to move, but you know where this is going. still, you decide you'll wait until he asks you.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks quietly, and you're immediately pulling back, hands in your lap as you take in all the emotions resting on your boyfriend's face.

"oh, spence!" and you hope he's not about to cry. you've never been privy to it, but you can imagine what it'll do to you in your emotionally high state. "i know that was a lot, i'm sorry." you apologize despite the fact that you've done nothing wrong, a bad habit.

"please don't ever apologize for something like that." he corrects you gently. "i'm proud, because i can imagine how hard that likely was, but you did it anyway, so thank you for sharing how you're feeling with me." you look away just for a second, the moment feeling too heavy for you to manage. you're looking back at him just a moment after, his stare something you've always been terrible at ignoring and avoiding. "would it be a let down if i told you that i feel the same way about you?" he asks, and you wonder if this phase ever ends.

you don't want to wake up one day and find that your smile no longer reaches your eyes when you look at him, or hear his voice.

"no." you answer quietly. "i like when you agree with me, especially about your feelings for me." and it's a small joke, one you partially mean. "but, you still haven't told me that you love me, yet." you remind him a bit more sternly than you have been.

"i know." he retorts, and he looks a bit smug. you want to say that you hate when he gets like this, but you know you're lying. "i'm waiting to see how long it'll take you to crack." he admits, and your nose curls. he beams at you, and you want to glare, just for the fun of it. "why are you determined not to say it first?" he asks, and you cross your arms over your chest, busted.

"you don't know what's in my head." you instead argue, and his eyes roll, but he still seems amused. "i can say it first if i very well wish." you add, and his eyebrows raise, a challenge. unlucky for you, because you had a problem with being challenged. you would always walk right into his trap like a fool.

"so then say it." he taunts, and you realize pride is one hell of a killer.

"fine, i will." you retort, voice laced in mock-aggravation. "i love you." you deadpan, you say it like it's a bother. "happy now?"

"not with that attitude. can you try again? say it like you mean it?" he presses, and you're weaker in the knees than you initially believed. all your bravado goes right out the window, and you're suddenly anxious again, with no bite to curb your words, you're certain he'll hear every ounce of emotion you feel towards him if you say it again.

"spence." you exclaim, and he's not moved. you think you hate him just a little. "it's not fair, you're being mean." you express, looking down at your lap, and you know that you're only behaving this way because you're overwhelmed.

"i'm not." he promises, and he ducks just a little so that you're looking directly at him again. "i wouldn't be, especially not about this." he adds. "i just want you to say it again for me, can you do that? please?" he asks, and you hate how absurdly handsome he is sitting across from you. he's got this way of looking innocent even when he's baiting you, and he's always got this intensity in his stare that's enough to knock the wind out of you. it's kryptonite, and precisely why you concede.

"spencer, i love you." he groans, quietly, but you hear him all the same. he's kissing you before you can react, and it's easy getting lost in moments like these. he always kisses you like he's trying to swallow you whole, too handsy for his own good. his kisses are desperate, tongue swiping out just slightly, likely to test the waters. you match his ferocity, and let your own tongue drag over his bottom lip before you press a bit more forcibly, hurriedly, desperately.

"i love you." you don't know why you're saying it again, but it's not as hard as the first time. you kiss him again, grumbling when he's quick to lean out of reach. you shoot him a sour glance, and he's not moved.

"hey, i love you too." he echoes you in the most love sick sort of way. it feels precisely as you had described it earlier, and that makes you happier. the fact that the feelings didn't change, didn't disappear all because you'd said the three words back. you hum contentedly, and then your head is back on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "does it still sound like i mean it?" he asks, he questions you softly, like he's trying to preserve the moment.

"mhm." you answer quietly, and you strain to kiss his throat once, before your back to resting against him. "did it sound like i meant it?" you mimic his line of questioning, and you're happy when his arms are back around you. he's a lot more respectable this time around, but before long, his hands are finding their chosen place back under your shirt, exploring your waist and hips as you try not to squirm.

"yes." he replies, and you're glad to hear it. "can you say it again?" you suppose in the grand scheme, you do have lots to make up for. he'd probably want you to say it over and over again.

"i love you." it's instantaneous, as is the way spencer's hold on you grows more firm. you hadn't wanted to mention it, the way sitting here like this with him had you itching for more, but it seemed you weren't the only one in that headspace. "spence?" you question, and he's dragging his hand up and down your back, legs starting to bounce just slightly.

"yeah?"

"can we go back to before now?" you ask, and you expect him to be a tease. he could never just give you what you wanted, he always had to drag it out, and make you nervous.

"back to before?" he pries, and he's leading. you huff audibly, and you adjust yourself on his lap, trying to control the way the pit in your stomach seemed to grow warm, heating you up from the inside. "you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, love." he tsks, and you hate him.

"i just-" you frown, hating this part. "i want you." you deadpan. "and you know that, so i don't know why you're being like this." except you do, because it's amusing to spencer to watch you get all flustered and nervous. you don't know why, but it's how he is. you think that one day you'll try your hand at flustering him back, just to see what all the hype is about. "i want you to-" and you're not sure exactly what counts for too blunt with a boyfriend like spencer. "let's f-fuck, okay?" and spencer's got that stupid amused look on his face again.

god, you hate him.

"that wasn't too hard was it?" he questions, and you cut your eyes. you're certain he'll make you pay for the looks, and the smart mouth down the line, but you can't care right now.

"it was excruciating." you correct haughtily. "you should be ashamed of yourself for treating the girl that you love this way." you add, and spencer's got his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he takes you in. you gulp, shuffling just slightly as you realize precisely the predicament you've gotten yourself into.

"do you want me to make it up to you?" he asks, and he sounds breathier than before, which only serves to make you more of a hot-and-bothered mess.

"i-" you blink owlishly, unsure of his intentions.

"yes or no?" he presses, and you think either way this goes, your done for. "you've just got to say the word."

"yes." head nodding, eyes blown to hell, it's easy enough. "you should. you definitely should." you respond, and then he's kissing you again. he's much more intense this time, stealing all of the air out of your lungs as his nails scratch against your skin, you hands moving to cup his face, you hope to keep him anchored to you this way. when he breaks from the kiss again, you're ready to lay into him, only to squeak when he scoops you up, standing up from the chair.

your legs immediately lock around his hips, and you're panting already, he seemed to have that constant effect. all it took was a little kissing, and you were already a mess. "i love you." he says this like it's a reminder, and you are quick to chase his mouth with your own. you could say you were a bit obsessed with the act.

"i know." you reply, and his eyes roll at you, but he still looks as love sick as you feel.

"good. i'm going to need you to remember that, because when we get to the bed, i'm going to do a lot of things that might make you think the opposite." he says this like a definitive promise, and you gasp. "do you understand?" he asks, and you're shivering, the anticipation already managing to strike you down.

"yeah-yes!" you stutter. "i understand, it's okay." you add. spencer's already got this look of pride residing in his eyes, and you know that you're in for it, silly you for thinking love confessions would be enough to get you out of all the backtalk and clear attitude. "i'm ready!" you insist like the eager girl you are.

"we'll see." he retorts.

god, you love him.

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bwere · 3 days

Text

WHY DIDNT YOU CALL? W/ TOJI FUSHIGURU

710+ wc, smut, two l!nks, little angst

mdni + not proofread, request always open

TOJI FUSHIGURO has only a little more patience when it comes to you than he does with anyone else. he loves you of course—but sometimes he just wants to ruin whatever idea in your pretty little head that makes you think, you can make him wait whenever you please and get away with it scotch free.

he waited all day for you, sent texts, left voicemails, missed calls, and even let you know when he clocked in for work and when he got off.

he was fine with you going out with your friends—but when you give him an estimated time of when you’ll be home he expects you home in the same timeframe no less.

with each passing hour toji was getting more impatient as he watched the delivered prompt stay that of stone.

you on the other hand paid no mind to his messages, giving a little heart or thumbs up here and there and going on with your outing. thinking he wouldn’t mind since he understood your situation.

but boy were you wrong.

you left him on-read for five hours—and sure he knew you were probably fine, but it made him irked, knowing you were looking pretty around your little friends but ignoring his messages. not only that but you gave him a time and yet you still kept him waiting. as if he didn’t matter more than your friends.

so when you came home that night and found him waiting for you in the kitchen, you knew he was fuming.

“you think that shits funny huh? leavin’ me on read like i’m one of your fuckin’ friends?” toji seethes, his coarse palms fusing into the meat of your hips. kneading the skin around his fingers like dough.

his fingers pressurize your skin till it’s sore. your poor abdomen only being given relief when he repositions his fingers—just to get a better grip and fuck harder into you than just moments ago as if you were a mere silicone fleshlight.

“h-hah—mgmhn-n..nough!” you pant out as he digs into you so good it makes your spine shiver, so good you can barely catch on to your voice, before he takes your strength away with another deep stroke.

he has your face drowning in your shared bedding, drool streaming from your lips and chasing down your chin, all to be soaked up by the silk imposed under your face.

with your body deep in the mattress, his hands hold you in place as he thrusts into you so precisely, every movement grabbing another moan from your throat.

“c’mon ya feelin’ ngh- that good huh? don’t even know how to say no,” toji mocks, earning nothing in response but a plethora of raspy whimpers of sorries from you. “lemme make ya’ remember then, doll”

“mmmfhg! m’ sorry mngh toji p-please i won’ do it again!” you cry, as you’ve barely been able to do anything but lay there beg after beg, struggling to take it.

“yeah? go on, tell me what you won’t do ma’” the baritone in tojis voice resonating throughout the walls of your shared room.

TOJI FUSHIGURO slows down the pace of his thrusts till the tip of his cock rests just outside your gaping pussy.

and as your lips part—oh so desperately trying to gain some sense; before you can even convince him to let you sound a word out, before you can even think about what you’re going to say—he leans his weight forward to hook your wrists around each other, and in the same motion pulling you back against his chest as he sinks his hard cock deep in you as if he never was out of you to begin with.

unhesitatingly pounding into you once more—occupying your warm insides with rough submission. allowing you no support to hold on to while he uses you relentlessly.

“Uhngm—! ts’-too muh-ch toji..!“ It’s exasperating—how his dick could steal your ability to speak. Rob you of your dignity, and make you only familiar with how to say his name.

He knows how to fuck you so perfectly your cunt only feens for the thick veiny cock—the same one now violating your insides.

“yer capable of makin’ excuses but mmmh—can’t answer my calls back huh? do i need to get you a beeper?”

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hecateslore · 3 days

Note

Hey! I really like your spirit and your posts which ain't about fics, that's hilarious!!! And I also have an idea that Sugar daddy Ghost with reader whose parents are rich and she's beautiful, has nice body so her ego is much taller than her but Ghost just dicks her down=))) I'd truly appreciate if you answer my request 🎀 TAKE CARE❤️

Thanks!💗 I'm kind of rocking with idea A LOT, though it's not really sugar daddy!Simon just hellarich!reader MDNI mentions of alcohol if that is not your thing keep it moving!

.・゜゜・ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪　・゜゜・．

You and a couple of your girlfriends decided to go to a that janky dive bar a couple streets down from the nightclub you all usually go to. Your best friend was graduating and before her schedule gets hectic, you all decided to take her out to party one more time before she goes back home.

You entered the small bar, twisting your nose up the second you get a look around the room. Seeing all the old biker men, some sloppy drunk and others playing pool while smoking. It wasn't until one man caught your eye. He was tall, huge, he looked quieter than the others who were howling with laughter.

"I want the one with the handle bars." One of your girlfriends said over your shoulder, You giggle along with her understanding the appeal, he was cute, but not like the other one- who was now staring back at you. You avert your gaze back to your friends quickly, butterfly's in your stomach while feeling his eyes on you.

At the bar, you were having a good time, a slight buzz going on but nothing too serious. After all, you still have to get to the nightclub. So you sip slowly, checking every now and then to see if the mystery man was checking you out. "I'm gonna go talk to mustache," You friend tickles your exposed shoulder, "Come on." She nods, smiling smugly.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

"You want to buy me a drink?" She rested her hands on his shoulder, batting her eyelashes, smiling coyly; playing a rather charming trick. Simon eyed you while you stood beside her. Your arms crossed squishing your boobs together making them spill over your low-cut blouse.

He sipped his beer, looking over your figure, taking a mental picture of those tiny shorts that made your legs standout. You smiled politely at Price when your friend introduced you, giving him a small wave. You looked at the other two men who were ogling you, practically foaming at the mouth, you cringed crossing your arms even tighter, taking note of how drunk they were, whooping every five minutes then chugging their beers to the point they almost gag.

"You want something to drink?" His deep voice says, snapping you out of your thought. "I'm fine." You say, "Too good for beer?" He chuckles, sipping the foam that sat on the top, "Not a fan of Guinness."

Simon cocks a brow, nodding the minute he notices your change in behavior, more peeved than anything. "I can get you something else.." You think about it for a second, looking back at your friend who was all over "mustache", making out with him on the bar stool. "Sure."

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

One gin and tonic later, you were sitting on the barstool next to Simon, going on about how you hate when you go out with your friends because they always do "this stuff", getting with random guys and expecting them to call the next day.

"And you don't?" Simon asks, watching you wave your arms around, "Are you crazy? I would never let myself." You grab the lime wedge, eating at the pulp, "I'm too good for that kind of thing." You watch your friend lead Price formally known as mustache to the bathroom.

"Do you?" You cock a brow at him, He only smiles, showing his dimple, and you roll your eyes, "And is that what you think I'm gonna do?" You lean in. "Wasn't planning on it." He chuckled when he noticed your shocked expression. "You said you were too good for it." He shrugs, making you smack your teeth, "Oh please, anyone in here would want to sleep with me."

Simon only shakes his head, watching a pout start to form on your face, "Now what?" a small smile hides behind his fake annoyed expression, You check the time on your phone the minute you see it's been more than an hour and the rest of your girlfriends left.

"My other friends left." You sigh, looking at the bathroom door, "And this girl is too busy getting fucked on the nasty floor." You huffed, checking the time again. "By the time we get there, the clubs gonna be closed!" You complain, "I can take you," He offers, watching you pull out a couple of loose dollars leaving it on the counter for the bartender. "It's fine, I'll just call an Uber and go home." You suck in a breath, deciding if you should knock on the bathroom door. "I'll feel better if you let me take you home."

"It's fine," You dismiss him, heading to the bathroom to let your friend know you're leaving. You knock on the door hearing her hiccuping moans, "I'm leaving!" You shout through the door, "That's fin-Oh my god!" You roll your eyes, walking back to where you left your bag.

"Thanks for the drink.." You smile, "I'll take you home." He nods to the door, "You're drinking." You point to the half full glass, "I only drank three and half, I'm good." You squint your eyes at him, not fully convinced

"Then we'll both get in the Uber, we can share one, I'll pay." You roll your eyes at his persistence, "Fine."

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

When you get to your place Simon is taken back by the luxurious apartment complex.

You look at him, "I said, bye Simon." You snap him out of his trance, he looks at you "Oh right." You look at your apartment complex, "Do you want to come up?" You smirk, He looks taken aback, "Just for a drink." You shrug, giggling the second he nods.

You both exit the car, and walk to the entrance where you greet the older door man, "Late night?" He jokes, "Always." You smile at him politely, "Have a good night." He says, clicking your floor, "You too, Art."

Simon's still shocked, "I thought you were some college kid." He says and You snort, walking out of the elevator the second it dings. "No, no." You use the fob to unlock the door, "I work at my dads company."

Simon nods, taking in the interior that was decorated beautifully. Rugs, a chandelier, paintings, some extremely expensive art pieces. "Guess you don't need a man to take care of you then." He blurts, admiring the portrait of you. "Who says I don't like being taken care of?" You look at him with hooded eyes, the wetness in between your legs getting worse than what it was before.

"That's not what I mean." He chuckled, rubbing his jaw when he notices you walking closer to him. "I bet you can take care of me in that way.." You unbutton your shorts, keeping eye contact with him while you slide them off.

"I thought you don't do one night stands?" He bit the side of his cheek, his eyes on the way you play with the hem of your blouse. "I don't," You grab his belt loops, tugging him towards you, "I want you to take care of me," You say softly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and lips.

You grab his hand, putting it in between your legs, sighing when you feel him rub your covered cunt softly, "Are you gonna take care of me?" You breathe, moving your hand from his to make him look at you (why she kind of a pimp omg 🫢), Simon nods, You kiss his lips, pulling away to look at the lustful expression, licking his bottom and top lip making him smile.

You back off, "Come over here." You tell him, discarding the rest of your clothes as you walk towards the living room. Leaving nothing for his imagination, you grab his hand stopping him in the middle of the room, discarding his shirt.

You almost moan out loud, his big arms, toned stomach and pecks. You plant kisses on his chest and abdomen. You stand back up to kiss his mouth sloppily not giving him enough time to take all of you in, you were unbuttoning his pants, and trying to yank them down. "Woah, Woah." He grabs your hands, causing you to stop, "Slow down." He says, his voice smooth like honey. He takes his pants off, letting them fall to the floor.

At this point you're trembling for it, slobbering at the bulge that sat in his boxer, so close yet so far (too real).

"Let me see you.." He holds your face, Your eyes are wide and your lips wet with yours and his saliva, you look other worldly. He kisses your lips, it's deep and passionate. You moan pulling him to you bare body. You take one of your hands and play with his hair, messing up his overgrown buzzcut, "go lay down." He instructs you quietly, whispering against your lips. You do so, spreading your legs, giving him a full view of you, a shy smile on your face while he gets on the floor, going in between your legs. (MUNCH🫵🏼)

Simon kitten licked at your clit, making you moan softly. You push at his shoulders, telling him to give more. And he does, sucking harshly-maintaining eye contact. He pulls you lower, making sure to have your bottom hanging off the chair, he holds your legs- his head buried between your legs while you whine and moan.

Sighing, you try and spread your legs wider, wanting more of his mouth, he chuckles at the way you try and buck your hips. "Please, please?" You say weakly, grabbing his hair, pleading. He pulls away, taking his ring and middle finger in his mouth, sucking them.

Your eyes light up, you bite your lip watching him spread your legs again, sliding his large fingers inside. "Does that feel good?" He asks, smiling when you gasp, surprised at the change of pace. His fingers pumping out of you quickly. You pant at the feeling of his fingers touching that spongy part inside of you.

Then he slowed down, "Does it feel good?" He asks again, softly, looking in your eyes, "Mhm." You hum, gripping his wrist, trying to make him go faster. He goes slower and slower, "It feels good." you choke out, and then he finally speeds up, biting his lip in focus. They plunge in and out of you quickly making you squeal.

It all feels so good, your toes curling, calves flexing from his finger fucking. The pressure was overwhelming, he kept on. You could cry from the pleasure. Your moans got higher and squeakier, you were on the verge of screaming. That feeling you know all too well starts to build, but this time more intense and more at the front. You begin bucking your hips fucking yourself on his fingers, panting and writhing.

"Yes," You whine, grinding into his palm, it grazing your clit so nicely. "Yes, Yes, Yes." You repeated, working towards your orgasm. Simon watched quietly- still using his hand to please you. His cock twitched in his boxers, with his free hand he gripped his shaft, giving him some temporary relief. He was so focused on your cunt and how your arousal made your pussy shine. He was hypnotized.

Your orgasm was right there and with a couple more flicks of Simons wrist, your eyes shut and you could feel a gush between your legs, You moaned loudly while your pussy twitched and pulsed. You were so sensitive, still whining when he took his fingers out of you, stealing a taste for himself.

Once you calm down, you slide to the floor, making Simon sit on the couch, You bite your lip, "My turn." You giggle, pulling at the band of his underwear. He lifts his hips, helping you take them off. His cock springs out- You smile sneakily, so pleased with his size. You grab his cock, kissing his tip, making him hiss. You lick your lips tasting the remnants of his pre-cum. You hum in delight, making his already red cheeks even more crimson (she's a freak fr!). You lay your tongue flat on his head before you take it in your mouth. "Jesus.." He mutters, moaning when you bob your head on his cock slowly.

You pull back with a popping sound, going back to teasing his head, then taking him whole. Choking on his length, He adjusts his hips, pushing it further back making you gag. You take him out of your mouth, jacking him off, spitting on his head making it even more wet and sloppy. "I like you Simon," You look into his eyes, "I want you." You twist your hand, making him gasp and sit up.

"Yeah?" He says quickly, You speed up, "Yeah." You affirm, slowing down, he grunts and you speed up again. "Get off." Simon says and you stop, he stands, helping you off the floor (what a gentlemen. 😝).

He bends you over, one hand on the back of your neck, the other on your waist while your head rests on the couch cushion and your ass in the air. Simon grabs it roughly, squeezing at the meat of your behind, making you moan and push back against him. "I'll pull out." He pants, "I'm on birth control." You respond quickly, "I'm in love with you." He exaggerates, kissing your back before teasing your entrance with his cock.

"Don't say that to me." You joke, quickly shut down when he slides in effortlessly. Filling you in a way you never felt. Simon moans lowly, fucking into you slowly, the pulling out. Your cunt takes him so well, squeezing each time he slides in. You bite your lip, quieting your moans, trying to hears the noises coming from between your legs. Simon grabbed your arms pulling you up, "Don't be quiet," His voice was gravely, making your stomach feel warm. You nod profusely, giving in to the way his cock was making you feel.

His thrusts making thwack noises against your ass, your inner thighs wet with arousal, his cock would slip out and he'd waste no time putting it back in, fucking you hard and deep, you cry out in pleasure.

"Turn around," He ordered you, you oblige looking at him, waiting for him to say something else. He then grabs your legs lifting you up from the ground, his hands under your legs, guiding his cock into you. You mewl at him pushing in your swollen cunt. "Yeah baby?" He looks at you, watching your face contort with pleasure, "That feel good?" You hum, resting your head on his shoulder while he bounces you up and down. He puts his muscles to work lifting you up and down on it, "I'm gonna cum" You cry, whining when doesn't slow down. "Simon" You call out, your pussy leaking all over him. He sets you down on the couch, pulling your legs around his waist putting his full body weight on you.

He kisses you while he fucks you deeply, his pelvis grinding against yours. You're a panting mess, you have tears building, your mouth is wet with saliva. "I can feel you about to cum." He teases, chuckling deeply when you try to go in for another kiss. His thrusts get sloppier, slipping out of you when he goes too fast. You hold you breath when he slides in again, your cunt quivering when he thrusts in deeply.

You gasp when your second orgasm happens, holding his ass, trying to pull him in even more, when you hold him for a second longer Simon groans loudly in your ear, making small thrusts, too sensitive to keep going,

Simon rests on top of you, breathing in deeply, you rub his back while you both try and catch your breaths.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

You both clean up, taking a shower and then getting yourself and Simon a glass of water.

"Hi." You smile shyly, handing him the glass. He takes it thanking you, chugging it making you stare at him. "I think my dad left one of his robes around here." You think for a second leaving him in your bedroom.

"Here" You hand it to him, taking the towel that wasn't big enough to dry him. You watch him tie the know swiftly, you hop in bed, still wearing yours, your hair wrapped up, You laid down, exhausted from the events earlier. You pat the spot next to you, and he slides in, sighing at the feeling of your mattress. "I noticed your dog tag." You point at his neck, he looks down, he nods.

"That must be fun." You yawn, "Not at all." He responds, staring at the way your eyes flutter, trying to fight off sleep. "I meant what I said." You say, your eyes shut. "I don't do one night stands."

"Heard." He nods, tracing the pattern on your robe, "So you want me?" He smirks, cracking himself up. "Mhm." you hum, grabbing his hand, kissing his palm, "I can deal with that." He touches the side of your face before kissing your cheek. "You better."

#lunden’s response ❀—#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod x reader #call of duty

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papercorgiworld · 1 day

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A good excuse to kiss

The requested Theo and Mattheo version of ‘a good excuse to kiss’

In order to keep your best friend’s relationship a secret you have to distract a certain slytherin.

Aria (cameo by @justdizzie ) is your Gryffindor best friend and has a secret relationship with Draco.

Read the Enzo and Blaise version here.

Not really proofread, so let me know if there's any major errors that hurt your brain. I really wanted to write and post something for my 2000 reblogs milestone so this might be a bit rushed. Anyways, here's some Mattheo and Theo content, I feel like it's been a while since I wrote for them, so enjoy and lots of love to all of you.

Damn it, Aria, where are you? It was lunch time and you still hadn’t seen your friend. You were seriously getting worried, which brought you to the door of Draco’s room. You were pleased to find the Slytherin common room empty, since Aria and Draco’s relationship was top secret you really couldn’t bring her up around his friends.

“I think we should get up.” Draco whispers softly as his hand strokes Aria’s soft hair. With still sleepy eyes she looks up at him. “But I’m so comfy.” Draco smiles and gives her a soft kiss on top of her head, before wrapping his arms around her.

Your fist hits the door hard. “Malfoy!” You yell and immediately you take a step back hearing a lot of noise and loud whispers. “What do we do? Quick hide.” “Where?” You roll your eyes. “It’s me!” You yell and Aria on the other side of the door relaxes her shoulders. “It’s (y/n). Thank Godric." Draco relaxes as well and can’t help but smile. “We’ve got to stop doing this.” He sighs and Aria frowns at his words. “I mean the secrecy, not the dating!” Draco immediately explains. “Idiot. Like I would ever let you go.” He mutters, before kissing his girlfriend so she can’t complain about his little insult.

The door opens and you see Aria’s messy black hair and apologetic brown eyes. “We overslept. Keep guard for a moment, I’ll be there in sec.” You nod, but as soon as the door closes you shake your head. Being the only friend that knows of their secret relationship was an honor, but also a full time job. Luckily for you, everyone was at lunch so no one would come looking for them, except…

Theo

You hear someone enter while cursing. “Where is that little sneaky slippery guy now?” You quickly scan the room to see if you can hide somewhere, but you don’t really see a way out and also you suddenly remember that you have to stand guard. Theo’s agitated gaze lands on you, fidgeting and awkwardly staring around the room. Things just got weirder, but also more interesting for Theo. “Why are you standing in front of Draco’s door like you’re hiding a dead body behind it?” You immediately feel caught, but you frown at the mentions of a dead body. “There’s no dead body.” You say, determined to prove to him you have no secrets, taking a few steps towards him in an attempt to keep him away from the door just in case he could hear Aria. “And how would you know?” Theo raises an eyebrow as his eyes meet yours. Gods, Theodore was the most smug and self confident guy you had ever met.

“I checked.” You state and Theodore’s tongue wets his bottom lip while he raises his eyebrows. “And why exactly were you checking Draco’s room?” Your eyes widen a little as you fall short on excuses. “I-I-I’m I’m-I had a project… with Malfoy. I have a project with Malfoy and I came to check if he had done his work.” Despite your stammering you convince yourself you did well with your answer, but Theodore was far from buying it.

“You’re a shit liar.” Theo snaps and shoves you aside, heading for Draco’s room. “Now let’s see what that blond’s up to!” Your brain goes blank as you panic when he walks past you, but Aria was your best friend so in an instant your instincts take over. You grab Theo’s arm and pull him towards you. Not expecting you to so violently jerk his arm Theodore turns towards you, but you give him no time to question your actions… or for you to question your own for that matter. Your hand reaches for the back of his head and you pull him in for a kiss. Theo lets you and even moves closer to you, his hands tracing from your hips to the small of your back. When you finally pull away your actions dawn on you and you’re met with a very amused and smirking Theodore. “What was that?” He demands in a soft whisper. Your mouth opens but your brain hasn’t come up with an excuse for your behavior yet, making Theo chuckle softly at your lost expression. “If you can’t come up with any good excuses your only option is to kiss me again.” His voice is suggestive, but you’re still too worried about your friend to realize he’s flirting. “I could always go check that room.” Theo suggests when he gets impatient with you and within a heartbeat you’re kissing him again.

This time Theodore meets you with even more passion and you can’t deny that he’s doing everything right. “Remind me to thank Draco later for whatever he’s got you keeping secret.” Theodore breathes in between kisses as his mouth sloppily works down your neck.

“Thank me for what exactly?” Draco’s voice has you spin away from each other to meet his smirk. Theodore doesn’t look very fazed by being caught, rather annoyed that the little make out got interrupted. When Theo looks over at you he immediately falls in love with your flustered look. You were very embarrassed, but at least you were a good friend to Aria.

Mattheo

“Ey Malfoy!” You’re startled when you recognise Mattheo’s loud and demanding voice. “Get your incredibly white ass to the great hall, you’re la-” Mattheo stops and his eyebrows knit together when he spots your sheepish figure standing in front of the door of Draco’s room. “What are you up to?” He demands, suspicious as he was about everyone but his close circle of friends. You cross your arms. “Nothing.” Your answer only makes Mattheo more curious and assures him that he’ll get whatever secrets you’re keeping out of you easily since you obviously possessed no skills of lying.

“I recognise trouble when I see it.” Mattheo calmly walks over to you, his eyes falling down your figure, taking in every detail like he was going to find out all your secrets by watching you intently. You huff and try to wave away the fact Mattheo is successfully intimidating you. “You, Riddle, are trouble, I, on the other hand, am the innocence itself.” You state, tilting your head as you make your argument. Mattheo snorts and walks around you, making you turn and narrow your eyes at him. You were not some prey he could circle like this. “You weren’t just standing here, doing nothing. So explain yourself.” You lose all focus when he says those words as you see the doorknob of Draco’s door turn behind Mattheo.

Smiling and unaware of Mattheo, Aria appears at the opening of the door and the panic that rushes over your face informs Mattheo that something’s going on. “Wha-” He turns, but you grab his face, squishing his cheeks in your hands. “What are you doing?” He demands with his face still smushed together. Aria is still in view and you realize that she’s going to hide somewhere to get out of the slytherin common room. Your attention is brought back to Mattheo when his hands pull on yours, but you can’t let him turn around so here goes nothing.

You hoped that Mattheo’s eyes would close, but they go wide as your lips slam against his. Knowing that Aria is going to need a few seconds to get out of this room you decide to go in for a deep kiss, all or nothing. It only takes Mattheo a moment to realize what your effort is all about and he wouldn’t be a true slytherin if he didn’t take an opportunity like this to make out with a pretty girl. No secret you were keeping was worth missing out on a little make out session with you, according to Mattheo’s book. His hands immediately slip under your skirt to rest on your thighs and you want to complain about this rather blunt move of his, but when he finally kisses you back you let him because no guy had ever kissed you like this. There was an immense fire of desire in the way he kissed that ignited a deep longing for more within you.

When he knows he’s doing it right he squeezes your ass urging you to move against him and allowing him to pick you up and push you against a nearby wall. Aria who has by now made it to the other side of the room is shocked by what she’s seeing. Her best friend who’s always so innocent full on making out with Mattheo Riddle of all guys and this before the day had even started properly. For a split second Aria considers coming to your rescue but as a soft moan leaves Mattheo when your fingers entangle with his hair and you throw back your head allowing him to nip at your sweet spot, your friend decides it best not to interrupt this and rather tease you about it later.

Picture source: https://pin.it/1WOSNnX6U

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #papercorgiworldwritings

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painted-bees · 2 days

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Sometimes you just need to be held and gently rocked like a child by someone who means something to you.

I mentioned before how Raf doesn't really get anxious before a show, and genuinely enjoys performing on stage--but that the most difficult part of a performance for him are the hours right after a show has finished, starting from the moment he walks off the stage.

Almost every single time, no matter how fun or well executed a performance was, there's a kind of quiet terror that follows him off the stage like a dark shadow and infects him once he's left the safety of the stage lights.

He becomes uncharacteristically furtive, and while he will answer when spoken to, his responses are simple, short, with a kind of sharpness in tone that suggests a level of defensiveness. Like a child awaiting a harsh scolding. Because that's kinda...what he is, in that moment. He is waiting to be kept awake into the early hours of the morning by a lecture about what he did, what he didn't do, what he should have done differently, what needs to be improved upon before the next time. Or he's waiting to be told that he's gonna be on his own for a few days, because the people who are supposed to love and take care of him are "too disappointed to fairly manage him" right now. Or he's waiting to be dragged into a busy room populated by strangers he's supposed to impress while he's casually, conversationally picked apart in front of them by the person who brought him there in the first place; the person who wanted to show him off.

It's a frustrating reaction to have...He's not a child, he's a grown ass man--and he owes venue staff, and his bandmates, and everyone else backstage a modicum of respect and kindness, and to thank them for their work, and to revel in the completion of a good show. But he's not really...he can't do that. He comes off as quietly despondent at best, or kind of a stuck up asshole at worst. When he did shows with Lacey, she called it his "post-performance tantrums" and exercised very little patience for his 'immature sulkiness' following concerts. And the low mood would persist for a solid week then after.

Once he started doing shows and stuff with Margie, she'd initially wonder if his poor mood was because she had done something wrong, or didn't meet expectations, if it was a bad show.... It wouldn't be until the following day before Raf could find himself in a state of mind where he's able to explain what he's feeling, much less why. And...for whatever reason, he's reticent to offer the most simple explanation to her--because saying "it's a ptsd thing, just give me space and patience and don't take it personally because it's nothing to do with you" comes with the risk of being asked other questions about himself and his upbringing that he's not comfortable getting into and--it's a whole thing, in his mind. So the first few shows together are consistently...a bewilderingly negative experience for Margie, in that it's a very tense, quiet, insecure and shame-ridden 24-48 hours after the show--followed by delayed revelry days after the performance with Raf finally able to reflect positively upon the experience and assuring Margie that it actually was a great performance, and that he had a lot of fun--and they're able to recall their favorite moments together, etc.

Unlike Lace, though, Margie never digs into him about his behavior. She just mirrors his silence, and then--very uncomfortably--gives him space because she doesn't really know what else she can do, and--assuming she's the problem--she doesn't want to risk messing things up even more, since she doesn't know what she did wrong in the first place. And, you know, there's only so many times Raf can reassure her, too late, that she was great, actually. And so he finally does relent to telling her that this is just...how he is after a show, that it's no one's fault, he's not mad at her or anyone--it's just ptsd. That's all he tells her, and, as per always with Margie--she doesn't try to pry out more information from him about it.

Margie goes down her own little rabbit hole of research instead, and comes to Raf with the idea for a new post-performance routine (communicated with staff and such before hand to ensure accommodation) wherein they don't try to gladhand, or pack up, or do literally anything for the first half hour after they walk off stage. Instead, they find a quiet, dimly lit corner somewhere away from everything and just sit, and rest, no expectations, no obligations, nothing. Raf agrees to put this idea into practice, and it quickly evolves into, well idk... Being held and gently rocked like a child by someone who means something to him.

#hi-note #Magritte #Rafael #say what you want about Margie's parents #but at least they gave her hugs and told her they were proud of her from time to time...#and they'd STILL do that for her today if she ever let herself come to them in need of it.#Raf on the other hand...there's a lot of lost time to make up for.#At least now he's getting what he needed but didn't get back then.

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triptychgardener · 2 days

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Hey so just maybe consider that constantly asking trans women about their justifications for their various reads of character's genders over and over and over again may, in fact, get exhausting and it sucks and you should probably stop.

Like I tend to answer asks assuming good faith and because I don't mind giving an explainer every now and again. And it can even be fun now and again to go through the my analysis process.

But the fact that so often transfem reads are interrogated endlessly over and over again while trans women are expected to be ever-flowing fonts of gender knowledge who have to defend their reads from people who haven't even done a basic bit of analysis makes actually engaging in this fandom and taking it seriously a fucking ordeal.

If you don't agree with or are confused by a read, consider reading a bit more analysis on it or, barring all else, just move on! Unfollow or block! We literally cannot stop you and it will save everyone a lot of time and energy!

#like on a surface level (not to get pretentious) it feels like wandering into an academic conference on tolkien asking what WWI is #and at worst feels like the constant defending of our own genders we have to do in real life!!!

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 days

Note

Hi!

I have a question if i may?

What are some kinks that seem harmless but aren't?

Because a while back I heard that there is the potential to royally screw up if you pull someones hair and i absolutely did not expect that. So now i am curious if there are more kinks like this.

Thx in advance!

hi anon,

god I was so afraid that this was going to be a question asking me to name which kinks are actually morally wrong and inexcusable and if that was the case I was going to have to eat your head off your body, so I'm really glad that this is just a solid good question instead!

the short answer: potentially any of them.

the longer answer: potentially any of them. even the most vanilla sexual practices have the capacity for someone to get hurt if participants aren't careful; please consider all of the "broken hymens" that are actually just vaginal tearing as a result of people with no prior experience not using enough lubricant to have sex comfortably.

once you start adding more complicated actions and accessories into the mix, obviously the potential for injury increases exponentially. hair pulling, biting, scratching, slapping and other forms of impact play, bondage, breath play, primal play, anything involving bodily fluids, playing with fire or electricity or knives - all of that stuff can get you hurt, no matter how knowledgeable and careful you and your partner(s) are. even activities that might take place mostly with words and the imagination, like roleplay and denigration, can cause emotional harm if people's wires get crossed.

this is one of the big reasons why many folks involved in kink have shed the classic SSC (safe, sane, and consensual) in favor of risk aware consensual kink, or rack. the inclusion of the word "safe" may be setting some misleading expectations, so that's been cycled in in favor of "risk aware," meaning participants are expected to be made fully aware of everything that could potentially go wrong so that they can give the most informed consent possible and, hopefully, make plans with their partner(s) for what to do if the worst does come. (many sex educators have pivoted from talking about "safe sex" to "safer" or "protected" sex for similar reasons, as a reminder that things can always go wrong and few forms of protection are guaranteed to work perfectly every time.)

the inherent risk is one of the biggest reasons why it's so important that the kink community has flourishing spaces to meet up, attend workshops and demos, and otherwise learn from more experienced folks who can teach interested newbies the rope (as it were) and help them play as safely as possible.

#sex edventures 2024

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teaboot · 1 day

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Forgive me if you’ve already answered something similar but how do you deal with crushing guilt when you did fuck up but there’s not really anything you can do to like make amends or you’ve already done anything you could and still feel guilty?

Like I know the guilt isn’t productive at all, if anything it’s just paralyzing me, and mentally beating myself up over it isn’t actually helping anyone. But I don’t know where to go from there. Idk how to actually forgive myself, or at least be able to move on

CW FOR SELF HARM

Okay, so this is something I've had to work through for a very long time myself, and there's a few different strategies that I've used to cope and process with varying levels of success.

What I used to do was handle the "I've ruined everything and hurt people and am never going to be forgiven" feeling by hurting myself in a number of creative and stupid ways, from physical hurt (Everything you'd expect) to mental hurt (wallowing, speaking badly of myself, going over the bad thing over and over again in my head) to passive hurt (neglecting my health, not eating properly, failing to pursue good living conditions, letting others hurt me, deliberately wandering into risky situations) and despite any short-term relief or peace I got, none of it ultimately fixed anything.

At the end of the day, making myself suffer as retribution or apology didn't fix the thing I'd done and didn't make the guilt go away, and all it gave me was an additional sense of shame and isolation because now not only was I a garbage person, I was a garbage person with something to hide from my loved ones. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.

The stuff that DID help was harder and is going to sound stupid because *I thought it was stupid* until it worked for me.

First: Learn the difference between GUILT and SHAME.

GUILT is how you feel about your choices.

SHAME is how you feel about yourself.

"I was late to a date again, that was inconsiderate": GUILT. The issue can be resolved by analyzing the reason behind the action and planning steps to avoid repeating it in the future. Guilt is productive because it motivates us to improve our choices. Once you've corrected the behaviour, it's over.

A"I was late to a date again, I'm inconsiderate": SHAME. The issue can be resolved by asking ourselves:

What negative thing to I believe about myself?

What other experiences support this belief? What evidence do I have that the bad thing is true?

Do those previous experiences have anything in common? Where they actually proof of a personal lack, or did someone just tell me they were? Were my choices and actions understandable? Did I have a reason? Was I trying to hurt others, or was it a mistake, accident, or learning experience? Have I grown from that experience?

Can I forgive myself for the past? What do I need to do to forgive myself for those past events? Was I really at fault at all, or was it out of my control?

Accept that.

Your present traumas and shames often have roots in beliefs you had about yourself before the new shameful thing occurred. When you dig into resolving the issues that led to today, you can use those conclusions to work through tomorrow. This is something I learned in cognitive behavioral therapy.

There are a number of ways of unpacking these questions, but as I felt I was deliberately avoiding my thoughts and feelings, I chose to jump into them directly, and found it to be effective.

You can write things down, talk to someone, paint something, draw something, whatever. Whatever at all works for you.

My solutions was to find a comfortable place on the floor, sit down, close my eyes, and do box-breathing (in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4) while deliberately thinking about every upsetting memory attached to a specific bad belief that I could recall until I had nothing left to go over.

Judge and jury. Was I a bad person, or did I make a mistake? Did I have malicious intentions, or did someone accuse me of malicious intentions? Am I bad, or have I been conditioned to believe I'm bad? And at the end of it all, am I capable of better? Do I want to be better? And would a truly bad person care?

It was more emotional than I expected the first few times. Cried a lot, actually. But if I can liken it to a common feeling, it was like getting out of a very thorough shower and realizing you didn't know how dirty you were before.

The process sucks ass, no lie, but it's worth it. Like draining pus from a gnarly wound to get it healed up properly.

I'm not an expert, of course, but life has gotten better since I started. I'm better at forgiving myself, at least.

Also: Some people will never forgive others even for tiny things. Sometimes once you've done your best, you've just gotta say "fuck 'em". C'est la vie, mon amie.

Good luck, yeah?

♡

#Self harm cw #Guilt and shame

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slutforln4 · 9 hours

Text

TWO PRIZES

🖇️ lando norris x f1 journalist!reader

🖇️ in which you realise lando wasn’t just the driver you interviewed

🖇️ warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol

🖇️ author’s note: the bits in italic are her memories :)

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Excitement pulsed through your veins at the mere sound of engines roaring.

The amount of people trying to push past you made you anxious, but you knew it was all part of the experience. Everyone was bunching up to watch one of the greatest events of all time— the Monaco GrandPrix.

Once you make it through the crowd, avoiding elbows and shoulders of people much taller and energetic than you, the entrance that you need comes into view.

You weren’t just excited for the interviews you were going to watch up close, but also the entire concept of the race. The hustle of engineers in all these garages, working their hardest to get the drivers in and out of the pits with minimal time to waste. Not to mention the drivers themselves, having to sit in the cars for multiple hours over the race weekend with no complaints— they chose to do this, they deal with the consequences.

That’s exactly what excited you. The reasoning for their choice to do this, you wanted to ask each and every one of them why they wanted to do this, what was so interesting?

You guessed their answer would be the same as yours if you were asked why you became a sports journalist.

Keeping your amazement at bay, you observed the race, focused on everything going on even though it was a lot to keep up with. But that’s exactly what you were there for.

You were sitting in the grandstands, intently watching the cars fly past you, when your phone rang. The caller ID said it was your coworker who had also been at the race but disappeared about ten minutes ago.

“Hello?”

She sounded distressed when you heard her voice. “Hey, love. I was wondering if you could take over the post-race interviews?”

Today was supposed to be a sort of intern day for you, meaning you were just going to watch your colleague interview the drivers and better understand what the etiquette is for it. You hadn’t expected to have your first interview today.

“Uh, why?” You asked, in a whisper. “You know I’ve never interviewed anyone before, right?”

“So?” She seemed much more confident in you than you were in yourself. “You’ve studied journalism for a few years now, yeah? I don’t think you’d have taken an internship at SkySports for nothing.”

“I mean, I guess?” You shrug. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to speak to actual drivers, though. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t if you remember that they’re just people doing their jobs, and you’re doing your job by asking them questions.” She makes a good point and you sigh in defeat.

“Alright, I’ll do it. Send over the information you’ve written.”

“Sorry.” You hear her slightly laugh. “You gotta fend for yourself with that one, hun. It’s a cruel world we live in. Cheers.”

With that, the call ended and you were left with nothing but anxiety weighing on your shoulders. The rest of the race seemed to fly by in mere minutes, your mind too focused on the pressure of your first ever interview.

Well, not first ever.

You imagined the day would come sooner or later, so you’d practise a conversation with one of the drivers by speaking to yourself in the mirror. That, and watching multiple interviews through the years, soaking up every bit of information you could about the process of it.

Before you knew it, you were standing in a sea of people with their cameras, waiting for the drivers to make their way to you.

It wasn’t that nerve wracking when you actually started talking to them, and by the time you got to Daniel, you had lost all feelings of anxiety, instead laughing along to his jokes.

You thought so, at least. A feeling of intimidation crawled up your spine when your eyes locked with Lando Norris, a driver for Mclaren. You noticed the piercing look from across the room as he spoke to a different interviewer, his green pupils tracking your every move as you spoke to Oscar.

The interview with Oscar wraps up and he begins turning away from you. “Good luck on your next race!”

Oscar smiled at you as he walked off to somewhere you could only guess.

If you had been anxious before, you were probably five times as anxious now, because Oscar Piastri leaving the spot in front of you meant that Lando Norris would be replacing him. And, for whatever reason, he was making you incredibly nervous.

You looked down at the ground as Lando approached you, waiting to hear what you had to say. You couldn’t bear looking up at him, knowing he’s already staring at you. But it was part of your job and you had to stay professional.

“Hello, Lando.” You said, cheerily.

“Hi,” he grinned at you, sweaty and all, his dimples appearing for a split second. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, thanks, how was the race?” You asked with a smile, ignoring the butterflies in the pit of your stomach when he smiled at you again.

Lando’s green eyes studied your face, soaking up each detail he missed since the last time he had seen you. He knows you don’t remember him and he doesn’t need you to, it’s kind of nice to feel something without reciprocation from the other.

After a long while, Lando shrugged. “Yeah, uh, the race was pretty good, I mean, I got first place, so I’d say it’s good. Y’know, aside from Oscar’s incident, but that’s not something we can predict, it just happens.”

You watched intently as he explained the race, your eyes oddly drawn to his lips. The pattern at which they move, and the tempting way he pokes his tongue out to tap the corners of his lips, makes you weak.

This was horribly unprofessional of you, and you knew that, but the charms of this young british racer had worked their magic on you, and you weren’t strong enough to resist it.

You felt like it was just the two of you in the room and both of you were trying your damn best not to break, one for more reasons than the other.

“Yeah, it seems like it was a lucky race for you, the pace of your car was incredible to watch.” You pointed out, looking down at the race data on your clipboard. “The RedBull’s were a bit slower this race, do you think that gave you an advantage?”

“Well, they already win races left, right and centre. They have to be bad sometimes.” Lando stifled a laugh. “But, uh, I don’t know. I think it all came down to the car and my ability to control it. The pace was insane, honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to be faster than a RedBull.”

The joke made you giggle and you quickly hid your face by looking away for a mere moment, in an attempt to recollect yourself. Thankfully, none of the cameras were on your face.

“Or it’s just pure talent, I’d say.” You look back up at him, his eyes never once leaving your face. He’s so smiley and it’s contagious, so you can’t help but smile at him, too. “Any plans for the celebration? You must be feeling ecstatic about your first win, so I assume the celebration must be as big as this.”

Lando puts the tube of his water bottle to his lips and takes a long sip, eyes still glued to you. He wasn’t even blinking, far too focused on the shape of your lips and how good they felt that night. That one night you can’t seem to remember.

“I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest.” He shrugs, tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, biting back the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. “I still have to call my mum and siblings.”

“I’m sure they’re incredibly proud of you,” you smile, politely. He’s still intently looking at you, cheeks now burning red at your comment accompanied by his massive grin.

It was time to wrap up your chat with Lando, but, in all honesty, you really didn’t want to. You felt something brewing in your chest at the mere feeling of his eyes burning into you, and it excited you.

Still, you ignore it. You had to stay professional, even if it was all too much to handle. “It was lovely chatting with you, Lando. Congratulations and good luck next race.”

“Will you be interviewing me next time, too?” Lando asks, making no move to walk away just yet. His eyes narrowed onto yours when you looked back at him, an adorably surprised look on your face.

“Uh,” you look away for a moment, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I look forward to seeing you again. Maybe.” He gave you another cocky smirk and nodded his head as a farewell, leaving you nothing but a blushing mess in the media pen.

After a plethora of interviews back to back, you were tired beyond words. Your feet were sore, your back hurt, you felt your eyelids close if you stood still for longer than two seconds. The image of your soft hotel bed made you motivated to keep moving through the building and find your way out.

“Oh, hey!” A familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “Y/N, was it?”

Your eyes find their way to the person behind you and you’re happy to see that it’s Daniel. “Daniel! Hi, nice to see you again.” You extended a hand to shake and he smiled as he squeezed it.

“Was lovely talking to you earlier. You asked such great questions, honestly, it made me really think about my answers, y’know?” You hadn’t noticed how both of you started walking again and he kept up with your pace. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, interviewing?” You ask and he nods eagerly, with the energy of a little boy.“This was my first official day of interviewing, actually. I had to step in for my colleague.”

“No way.” He muses, jaw slack and eyes glimmering with interest. “The way you interacted with me had me thinking you were carrying a load of experience.”

You stifle a laugh and watch the path ahead. “Yeah, well. I practised a lot in my room. You have race sims, I have a mirror and a hairbrush for a microphone.”

Daniel’s laugh echoed in the mostly empty area around you. “You’re funny, too.” He muses once again, shocked by how much fun you can be. “Listen, I know it’s not professional to ask this, but are you free tonight?”

“Oh, uh,” you look up at him and hesitate. “I’m not interested in-“

“No, no,” Daniel waves his hands in the air as if to stop the words spilling from your mouth. “God, no. I was going to ask if you’d like to come to the club later, all of the drivers are gonna be there to celebrate Lando’s win. It could be fun.”

You paused in your steps, brows furrowing as you felt a beam of energy climb up your spine. All of a sudden, your bed didn’t seem like the comfiest thing in the world and you were willing to exchange it for a pair of heels and a dress.

“I’d like that, yeah.” You smiled at Daniel and he reciprocated the gesture.

He gives you a card with his number on it and you gladly pluck it from his fingers. “Shoot me a text when you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride to the club. Cheers.”

And with that, he disappeared into the car park, the only remainder of his friendly presence being his lingering smell in the air and the scribbled number on the back of a grocery store coupon.

“Thanks, mate.”

Lando’s hand felt heavy as he shook it with someone he barely knew, congratulating him on the win. He’s been stuck in this large group of people for way too long, desperately looking for an escape. And, eventually, he found it— you.

His eyes have been stuck to you for the past fifteen minutes, patiently waiting for the people to finish congratulating him so he could finally talk to you.

When the perfect moment arose, Lando swiftly shimmied between the dancing bodies and made his way to the bar. You were still sitting there, looking as beautiful as the last time he saw you, but now you were right in front of him and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Lando’s voice startles you when he plops down in a bar stool beside you.

You smile at him, feeling the same anxiety crawl up your spine as the last time you saw him. “I’d say the same, but this feels like the perfect place for a race winner.”

“I honestly hated it before,” he shrugged, looking out into the crowd. “I used to party after a podium, second place being the best I’ve ever had.”

“But now you’re here as a winner.” You’re still looking at him when he turns back around. There’s something so nostalgic about the way he looks at you, almost as if you’ve already been there and seen him before. “Victory looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” He flashes a grin your way, raising a brow. “I’ll try to win more then. Maybe I’ll get to see you again that way.”

“I’m free whenever you want to see me,” you blurt. Lando’s eyebrows raise with surprise when you say that and he bursts into a small laugh when you start flailing your hands around in the air. “Sorry, that’s so unprofessional, I didn’t mean to–“

“It’s fine,” he assures you. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to get out of here. But that’s so unprofessional of me.”

“Mr. Norris!” You exclaim with a faux gasp. Lando watches with an amused grin on his face as you smile back at him. “I’d like that very much.”

It didn’t take long for both of you to swivel your way past the drunk people in the club and find yourselves in a cab. Lando’s hand made a home on your thigh and you didn’t mind. It felt warm, secure and turned you on when he inched it closer to the hem of your dress.

Time flew fast in the company of a race winner, especially one as charming and attractive as Lando. You didn’t realise how many hours had passed after you had left the club and, frankly, you didn’t really care.

The moments spent with him felt somehow nostalgic, as if you had felt this way before. But you’re sure you just dreamt it. There’s no way you’ve met Lando before and didn’t remember it.

It felt silly to think that, so you just ignored that thought and continued watching the intoxicating way his lips moved as he spoke. He’s been talking about something for the past five minutes and you didn’t hear a word of it, being far too focused on the pattern of his freckles, the dip of his nose and the gentleness of his eyes when he looked at you.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, voice gentle and cautious.

You bit back a smile, eyes flickering between his eyes and lips. “You.”

The nostalgic feeling snuck its way into the back of your mind when he kissed you, his lips and hands feeling like a long lost home. You somehow already knew the melody of his breathing and the pattern of his hair, the familiarity of his kiss starting a fire in your chest. You felt the warmth of his lust spread through your torso, creeping up your neck, softly toying with the giggle in your throat.

Stars spackled on the inside of your eyelids and the harmonious sounds leaving your lips finally drew you back to that night.

Warm hands. Gentle strokes and soft kisses. Careful fingertips trailing their way down your hips. Lando’s tongue danced on your aching bud and you felt the whole world fade away. The mere touch of his fingers on your hips to keep you still reminded you of the last time.

“Mmh, fuck.” Lando hummed against you, the vibrations sending bolts of lightning through your veins. “So good. So fucking good for me, y/n.”

His tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge. The alcohol in your system mixed with the pleasure coursing through your body was a lethal combination. Your legs shook as you felt your walls close around nothing, Lando’s mouth attached to you as if he was a starved man and you were the first thing he could get his mouth on.

“I’m- I-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before making a mess all over his goatee. He licked up every last bit of you, the sweet taste of you making a perfect combination with the aftertaste of whiskey in the back of his throat.

You stayed lying there, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted, deep breaths inflating your chest. Lando watched you, green eyes soaking in every inch of you— he wasn’t sure if you’d remember him this time, so he made the most of every moment spent with you.

After a while of him watching you, you felt Lando get up and come back in a few minutes, a damp towel in his hands. He touched your most sensitive parts with the weight of nothing, carefulness sewn into every movement he made. At that point, you were drifting in and out of consciousness, not fully knowing when the bed dipped under Lando’s weight again.

You felt his arms wrap around you and pull you in, the warmth of his bare skin heating your cheek. You were hesitant to speak, cautious as to not say something wrong. So, instead of speaking, you lifted your head and connected your lips with his again, the minty taste of his lips making you smile.

“It was you.”

Lando hummed into the kiss, as if to acknowledge that it was him, but also to ask what you meant.

You pulled away, fingers immediately making home in his curls. “That night.” A familiar look painted itself across Lando’s face. “I tried so hard to remember whose lips felt like home, and only the weight of yours reminded me.”

“You were thinking about me?” Lando inquired, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

You nodded. “Every day since that night.”

Lando smiled before kissing you again. “You never left my mind. I kept reminiscing that night, waiting for fate to magically bring us back to one another.” He whispered against your hairline, lips pressing soft, love-filled kisses against your skin. “Didn’t expect to win two prizes in one day.”

A small laugh slipped past your lips. “What a lucky man you are, Mr. Norris.”

“The luckiest.” He hummed. “Because I finally have you.”

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