#Flutter 2.5

[happilyhertale]

My dragoness – Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Summary: Weeks have passed since the announcement of your betrothal to your Uncle Daemon. Since then, hardly a night has gone by without Daemon visiting you - without disregarding your wish not to take the final step yet. But tonight, on your wedding night, you will finally be fully his.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering, sex (p in v), breeding kink, size kink, loss of virginity

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

This is another part of my Shared Future series.

x3 When @targaryen-dynasty asked me if I would like to participate in celebrating her 3K follower milestone, of course I agreed x3

Some have asked for another part for the Shared Future series, which is why I'm celebrating Laura's milestone with this story.

I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 2.5 k

Other stories of mine

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Your eyes are closed and your shaky breath echoes in the chambers. The rooms that you will share with your husband from now on.

The ceremony seems only distant in your memory and now so surreal as you lie here on this bed. How all eyes were on you when your eyes only looked into your uncle's. How you couldn't suppress a grin when you recognised the slightest smile around his lips. How he gently cupped your cheek with his rough hand before enveloping your lips with his…

"Hey... open your eyes," you hear Daemon say - almost softly.

You obey him and your eyes slowly open. The scenery shoots in on you as you lie on the bed in just your nightgown, your husband standing in front of the bed, looking at you, slowly opening his shirt.

"That's better," he says gently and smiles at you.

You don't know why you're so nervous. He's seen you naked countless times, driven you to ecstasy with his touch. But this time it's different, it's your wedding night.

He slowly approaches you as he slowly opens his trousers. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your nightgown as you try to breathe more calmly. Without looking at him, you hear his trousers slide down.

Daemon's eyes linger on you. He takes in every nervous twitch and quickened breath and he moves closer.

"There's no need to be nervous. I've seen every inch of you, explored every curve, and tasted your sweet surrender. Tonight, we seal our union, and I will show you just how much you belong to me," he purrs, his voice low and seductive, "It will be special," his soft voice sounds and you hear the words you whispered to him countless nights ago.

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a mix of anticipation and excitement bubbling within you. You know that Daemon is a man of passion and intensity, and tonight, he intends to leave his mark on you in more ways than one.

Daemon's eyes flicker with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness as he watches you fidget and nervously avoid his gaze.

He reaches out, his hand gently caressing your cheek before trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His touch is both tender and possessive, a contrast that only adds to the intensity of the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your nightgown, slowly lifting it up, revealing your body to him in all its vulnerability.

You feel the mattress give way as Daemon kneels on the bed. You look up and your purple Targaryen eyes meet. A gasp leaves your lips as his hand brushes across your thigh, gently grasping the underside of it and spreading your thighs slightly - his rough hand, a stark contrast to your soft skin. His other hand slides to your face, his index finger and thumb cupping your chin, lifting your head slightly.

"Look at me... focus on me..." he whispers and you nod slightly as you look into his eyes. Carefully, he pushes your legs apart as he kneels between them. His lips glide over your cheek, over your neck, while his hand slides further up your thigh.

Your eyes flutter shut as you concentrate fully on his touch. His warm breath glides over your skin as his lips caress you. The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers grip your inner thigh.

"That's my girl... concentrate on my touch..." he whispers against your skin. You nod slightly again and gasp as his fingers cup your folds - you'll never get tired of this feeling. Slowly, his fingers move, smearing the wetness along your folds. His fingers find your sensitive bud, light circular movements follow and as if of their own accord your hips move to follow their movement.

Daemon follows your movements, sliding his fingers to your soaked opening, applying light pressure. His fingertips are literally sucked in and a mewling sound comes from your lips. You exhale heavily, his fingers thrust deeper, your eyes still closed.

Daemon's lips curl into a smug smile as he watches your reactions, relishing in the way you respond to his touch. He takes pleasure in knowing that he can easily bring you to the edge with just his fingers alone.

His fingers continue their exploration, sliding in and out of your wetness, gradually increasing the depth and pace of his thrusts. He watches as your hips buck against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he's giving you.

"You're so wet... I don't even really need to work to get inside you," Daemon murmurs and you blush slightly, but your moans don't let up.

"Open your eyes" he whispers, "I want you to watch as I prepare you for me. See how wet and ready you are for my cock."

As you obey again, your eyes meeting his, Daemon's fingers quicken their pace, delving deeper into your core. He revels in the way your breath hitches, your body trembling with anticipation.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're ready for me, aren't you? You want my cock inside you, filling you completely."

You blush even more - you know that Daemon loves to fill your mind with filthy words. Even if they have the desired effect on you, you can't help but blush.

But suddenly you feel him pull his fingers out of you and a soft whimper leaves you. You feel your nerves again as you look down and see him pulling down his undergarments. You've seen his manhood many times before, on the nights he's visited you - but this is different.

His length is released and you gasp slightly - it's never seemed so big to you, so thick. His hand slides along his throbbing length and you hear him grunt slightly.

"Daemon... this... this won't fit..." you suddenly whisper nervously and your hand slides to his arm.

Daemon smiles, still pumping his hardness.

"Hey... look at me," he whispers again and you look up. But then he kisses you, wrapping his lips around yours, swallowing your doubts.

The kiss is filled with a hunger that ignites a fire deep within you. His hand roams your body, claiming every inch, as if marking you as his territory. The intensity of his touch, the way he dominates your senses, leaves you breathless and wanting more.

"It will fit... we will make it fit... It will hurt at first, but the reward will be all the better," he whispers against your lips. You can't help but nod as he slides the tip of his hardness through your folds.

Your eyes flutter shut and you inhale sharply. Your fingers dig into his skin as his length presses against your pearl. Again your hips move towards him, seeking more of that touch.

Daemon looks down, between your bodies, watching closely as your wetness and his precum mingle. His growl echoes through the chambers. You concentrate fully on the sensation as he guides its length to your entrance.

Slowly he pushes forward and you feel the pressure as his manhood tries to penetrate you. A slight whimper leaves you as your heat envelops his tip. He growls slightly, senses your tightness and starts to move slowly.

"You're doing great..." he whispers in your ear, gently kissing your cheek as he pushes further. You feel the pressure, biting your lip as he impales you on his hot length. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you, is overwhelming. Your walls clench around him, trying to accommodate to his size. Daemon's pace is slow and deliberate, relishing in the tightness and warmth of your core.

But Daemon still feels a lot of resistance, he's nowhere near all the way in yet.

"Love... it's going to hurt for a moment now... but it has to be," he whispers and your eyes open again, looking at him. You whimper, but you nod slightly. He leans his forehead against yours, lets his nose slide gently along yours before kissing you softly again. His rhythmic movements don't let up as his tongue searches for yours and you moan slightly.

When suddenly he thrusts and you cry out as the sharp pain runs through your abdomen. He swallows your cry, his hand on your hip as his thick length works you open. "Uncle Daemon..." you whimper into his mouth as he slides in and out.

"I know..." he whispers, but he keeps moving. The pain slowly subsides. Your cunt, clenching around his cock in protest, slowly gives way. He feels the fluttering of your walls and closes his eyes briefly.

"Gods you feel so good," he growls. Slight mewling sounds leave your lips as your hips begin to move with him. He smiles at you, "That's my girl," he whispers a little breathlessly as his hips move faster. He can feel you soaking his cock, your pleasure increasing, and it spurs him on.

His thrusts get harder as he tries to bury himself completely inside you. He revels in the feeling of your tightness around him, the way you yield to his every thrust. Moans escape you now as your hands grip his upper arms. His hand still on your hip, holding you in place.

He watches your face, observing every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. His grip tightens on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, marking you as his.

"You're so tight, so wet," his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. "You were made for me... Made to be filled by me," he grunts as he feels the tight grip of your cunt.

You are completely overwhelmed by the sensation as your cunt is fully stretched. You feel his balls slapping against you with every thrust and you whimper. His grunts echo through your chambers as he feels the continuous spasming of your wet walls. His eyes drift down again, seeing his glistening length disappear into your perfect womanhood again and again - the moment he's been waiting for so long, finally fulfilled.

He looks at your face again, sensing your impending climax - your eyes closed, your lips slightly parted as you try to follow his movements. Your noises a mixture of moans and whimpers. His hand slides to your abdomen, pressing lightly against it. He wants to feel his hot length sliding into you, bringing you to climax.

His thumb begins to tease your bud as he thrusts harder and faster into you. You cry out slightly, but you can feel the pressure in your abdomen. Your fingernails dig deeper into his skin as he pumps in and out, his thumb rubbing faster.

"Come for me... Soak my cock, suck up my seed..." he growls in your ear and you moan again. You open your eyes and look into his - blown wide with lust.

As your climax approaches, Daemon's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more powerful. He can feel the walls of your core tightening around him, signaling your imminent release.

With one final powerful thrust, he plunges deep within you, his cock pulsating as he finds his own release. The sensation of him emptying himself inside you pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You moan out, your walls milk his cock and he grunts loudly. He watches your face contort with pleasure as moan after moan leaves your lips while your warm walls spasm around him. He's never seen anything so perfect - you're finally his.

He leans down, kisses you, swallows your moans of pleasure.  His hips move more slowly as you come sliding back to reality from the veil of lust.

When his movements slow down completely, he releases the kiss. You can still feel him inside you, his nose slides gently along yours, you see him smile slightly.

"Are you all right?" he whispers a little breathlessly. You just nod and a breathless "Okay," leaves his lips. You whimper slightly in protest as he slowly pulls out of you. His length glistening with a mixture of your fluids. He watches you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and satisfaction, before leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

In this moment, there is no one else but the two of you, lost in the aftermath of your shared passion. Your bodies are entwined, your souls connected in a way that words cannot describe.

Your heavy breathing echoes in your chambers as he slowly releases the kiss, his gaze travelling down your body as he leans back.

His gaze is fixed on your womanhood and you feel something unfamiliar dripping out of you. Your hand instinctively wants to slide between your legs, but you only notice a slight shake of his head before he stops your hand. His other hand slides to your folds and slowly he pushes his fingers inside you, but you are overstimulated, your hips jerk back slightly.

"Don't," he whispers, "My seed must stay inside you.... I want a perfect heir to grow inside you"

You blush slightly, but his fingers slowly slide inside you, pushing the seed deeper inside you. Your eyes flutter shut slightly as you surrender to this feeling.

Daemon's eyes darken with possessiveness as he watches your reactions, his fingers still buried deep inside you. He can feel the wetness and warmth around his digits, evidence of the pleasure he has brought you. The thought of his seed filling you, the possibility of creating an heir, sends a surge of pride through him.

His thumb brushes against your sensitive pearl, eliciting a shudder from your body. He can sense your sensitivity, the overstimulation that threatens to overwhelm you. But he doesn't stop, his fingers continuing their relentless assault on your pleasure.

"You're mine… My dragoness" he murmurs, his voice low and almost commanding. "And I will fill you with my seed until you bear me a child. You will be the mother of my heir“

Daemon watches you, his fingers still buried deep inside you. His fingers move faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. He can feel the tension building within you, your body on the precipice of another climax. He wants to take you there, to see you come undone in his arms once more.

As the waves of pleasure begin to build once again, you can feel his fingers curling inside you, hitting that sweet spot that sends sparks of ecstasy coursing through your body. It's almost too much to bear, the pleasure threatening to consume you.

And as your moans fill the air, your body convulsing around his fingers, he knows he has succeeded. He watches with satisfaction as your pleasure washes over you, your walls clenching around his fingers. In his mind, your precious womb sucks up his seed with every contraction.

Finally he slowly pulls his fingers out of you – a mixture of his seed and your arousal covers his fingers. He smiles and collapses next to you on the bed, his breathing still heavy and laboured.

He looks at you, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. You smile almost shyly before his arm wraps around your middle and pulls you closer. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. His fingers glide gently over your abdomen as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear - your heavy breathing and light giggles fill the air.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[mggslover]

Reflections pt. 2.5

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her.

PART 1, PART 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: public beach sex (but no one is around + against rocks so no funny sand business), slight fem!dom quickly turning into soft!dom!spence, slight choking, lotsss of dirty talk, fingering, handjob, doggy p in v Word count: 2,4k A/n: this is the smut scene that's a fade to black in part 2! plotwise nothing happens, so you could read it as a standalone (but i'm hoping this will convince you to read the entire trilogy!!)

“I am so mad,” you admitted in a resigned breath.

His hand slid from your head to your neck, gently cupping your jaw. “Let it out on me.”

You had to furrow your brows, not sure if you understood him correctly. 

“I mean it. Your body is full of cortisol and epinephrine. Stress hormones,” he explained. “You need to be relieved of those.”

His fingertips trailed lightly over your arm, and you followed his touch with your eyes. 

“Use me. Let me offer you relief.”

You stood frozen in place, swallowing the breathless laugh that almost escaped your lips, as you noted the genuine look expressed on Spencer’s face.

His eyes bored into yours, the hazel of his irises altering into a darker shade of brown.

Tentatively, your hands moved up his body, and only then did his heartbeat quicken. Your fingers continued trailing upward until you gripped his collar, the fabric soft in your tight grip. His eyes don’t leave yours, mouth just slightly agape as you pull him in closer. 

Then you kiss him — hard.

Spencer gasped into the kiss, teeth clattering as you tugged on his collar. He desperately cupped your head, gripping your hair as if he needed this release as much as you did.

He was quick to stroke his tongue across your bottom lip before letting it slip inside, hastily meeting yours. You made a delicious little sound, igniting a fire deep inside his stomach. His hand brushed the back of your head, holding you steady, while the other roamed over your back, leaving a trail of sparks down your skin until it landed on your ass. He fondled the clothed flesh, pulling you flush against him. 

The sea breeze was a welcome gift to the growing heat between your bodies. You moaned into his mouth, your tongue exploring every crevice, getting lost in the way he feels — the way he tastes.

It was hard to maintain dominance when he rolled his hips into yours, pressing his growing erection to the place where you needed him most. “Spencer,” you breathed out.

“Hm?” He hummed against your mouth, pressing his lips back in a peck. 

His tongue circled around yours, breathy whispers the only sound on the deserted beach. You had to remind yourself of his proposition, pulling out of his grasp, already missing his touch. 

“You told me I could use you,” you recounted.

His eyes flickered over your face, dark with desire and anticipation. “Is that what you want?” He asks, leaning in, unable to keep his distance from you. “Then go ahead. I’m right here.”

Your hands find his shoulders, holding him firmly as you stumble toward a large rock that sat on the shore. You pushed Spencer against it, a small groan escaping his lips as the stone met his back.

He watched you in awe as your hands slipped to your waist, fingers clutching the side of your shirt. In a smooth motion, you pull it over your head. A soft breath escapes your lips as the cold salt air makes contact with your bare breasts, stiffening your nipples.

“You’re beautiful,” Spencer spoke sincerely, his hands reaching out to touch you.

You tsked, taking a step back. “No touching.” 

Spencer pouts, clasping his hands behind his back, needing to physically restrain himself from holding you.

“Not yet,” you added, feeling guilty as you stared into his desperate puppy eyes.

Those same eyes raked over your body to make up for the lack of touch. You bit your lip, your stomach fluttering with butterflies as his looks of adoration only seemed to grow when you pulled your pants down your legs. 

Spencer couldn’t help but blatantly stare at you, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You were perfect. The thought of your soft skin felt like a hazy memory he wanted to experience again.   

You didn’t give him the opportunity to think another thought as you pressed your lips back to his. “I missed you,” he admits, fingers aching with need. 

Your own hands moved to his black dress shirt, unbuttoning the tiny buttons. Inch by inch, his neck exposed itself to you, a red flush covering the skin. 

You leaned in, your tongue finding the sensitive spots on his neck as you marked him. 

“Oh fuck,” Spencer shakily breathed. His hands shot to the back of your head, holding you for support, and you let him. 

You struggled with the next few buttons, your desire too big to concentrate on a task this precise. 

“It won’t—“ you groaned in annoyance, pulling on the shirt. “Come on, just—“ 

The shirt flew open, buttons flying in every possible direction, before landing soundlessly in the sand. 

Spencer stayed quiet, his eyes wide as he looked at you. Then you broke out in laughter, giggles bubbling from your chest, laugh lines creasing the skin around your eyes. Spencer dared to smile in return, throwing his head back in a laugh, which caused him to bump it against the rock, evoking more snickers from the both of you. 

A feeling of weightlessness washed over you. Your chest felt light for the first time in days, feeling as giddy as the first time you slept with Spencer. 

The past dissolved into a blur. You were only focused on being here, with him, the pale moonlight dancing on your bodies, lucky to be in his presence. 

Spencer felt relieved to see this version of you again. The version he had the honor of taking glimpses of on the day that you met. He knew it wasn’t an act — this was you. It had just been hidden under many and many layers of protection. Layers that he’d spent the rest of his life peeling off if it meant that he’d get to see you smile like this. 

“Maybe you can take charge?”

He chuckled, a dimple forming in his cheek. “Of course.”

He slid his shirt off his shoulders with ease. His eyes found yours, asking for permission. “Come here.”

You took a step forward, sand rustling beneath your feet. He reached out to rest his hand on your hip, giving the flesh a soft squeeze. Smoothly, he walked you in a circle until you had switched places.

“Turn around for me.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You easily obeyed, turning around so that your back was facing him, your front pointing to the large rocks. 

His long fingers grazed your neck, making you tilt your head to give him more access. He hovered over you, his lips ghosting over your sensitive skin, his breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He spread his palm, his fingers locking around your throat. Your heartbeat pounded against his fingers.

“Does that feel good?” He whispered in your ear, and you responded with a delicate moan.

“I thought so,” he mused, tightening his grip ever so carefully, enhancing your pleasure.

The clicking of his belt buckle filled the air. A whoosh followed, as he pulled the belt free from his suit pants. Next came his zipper. Your breath quickened with each of his movements, ears perked to pick up on every small sound. 

He pressed a wet kiss to the spot behind your ear, his pants falling down his legs. He stepped out of them, kicking them aside, sand dusting through the air. His hard cock brushed against your ass, making you breathe out a shaky whimper.

“I need you,” you pleaded, your hand extending backward.

“Reaching back to touch my cock?” He kissed his teeth. “Just relax for me. I’ll grind it on you,” he reassures.

There was something compelling about you —something about the way your back arched, the way that your gentle palms pressed against the jagged stone — that made Spencer admit to his darkest desires, albeit having a dirty mouth.

He kept to his vow, his fingers roaming the skin of your stomach, dipping down to cup the curve of your pussy. Your legs trembled against him, making him hiss out as you shuddered against the head of his length. He rested his chin in the crook of your neck, taking in the scene as he spread your lips. His middle finger slid in between your folds, running up and down, gathering your slick wetness. His digit moved up to rub your swollen clit as his bare cock pressed against your ass.

“Oh,” you gasped.

“So reactive,” he murmured. “Did you miss me so much? Or did you just miss the way my cock pounds into you?”

Your head spun, his finger fastening the figure-eights that he drew over your clit. 

“You can tell me angel, I know you have a big mouth.”

You nodded, swallowing. “I missed you. All of you.”

“That’s it,” he praises, pressing another rewarding kiss to the side of your face.

His kisses moved up to the shell of your ear, hoisting you up with his arm to prevent you from falling to your knees. “Need to warm you up for me. Want you to take it like a good girl.”

You eagerly nodded, moans spilling from your lips. The first time you had sex with Spencer, it had taken you longer than usual to get used to his size. He had gently guided you through it, kissing your lips for every inch that he pushed into you.

He inserted his fingers inside of you — not one, but two — knowing how badly you were aching for him. Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers, your ass bumping against his cock with every move, feeling his precum dripping down your back.

“That’s it,” he moaned against your neck, as you clenched around him. “I want to see you come all over my fingers. Go ahead. That’s it.”

A delicious warmth spreads through you. “Fuck— I’m so close,” you cry out. “Please, don’t stop Spencer. Please, don’t stop!”

He groaned loudly, his dick twitching against you. “I got you. I got you sweetheart. I’m not stopping.”

Indeed, he didn’t stop. He only sped up the movements, curling his fingers deep inside of your pussy, hitting your g-spot repeatedly with force.

Your mouth fell open, looking pornographic to anyone that was to walk past you right now. Biting down on your bottom lip didn’t work. Nothing could muffle your high-pitched whimpers. Spencer attentively pulled his fingers out of your heat. You clenched around nothing, pussy still pulsing from your climax.

A hum sounded behind you. “Jesus, you taste so good.” 

You looked over your shoulder, catching Spencer in the act of licking his fingers clean. The sight was mouth watering —- his fingers were in his mouth, buried to his knuckles, sucking on the digits as he moaned in pleasure. His cock stood proudly, begging for your touch. You weren’t cruel, so you wrapped your hand around his length.

He threw his head back as you tugged on it, squeezing him each time you flicked your wrist. “That’s it. Ah fuck.”

You wiggled impatiently on your legs as you jerked him off. It was embarrassing to admit how badly you were still craving him, wishing he was thrusting up in your pussy instead of your fist.

“Please,” you eventually begged, your need bigger than your ego. “Need you inside of me, Spence.”

His brown eyes opened in response, his pink lips slightly parted as he looked down at you. Before realizing, he had spun you back around, lifting you up by your hips so your ass was in the air. He placed his palm down on your lower back, fingers bending over the curve to hold you steady. With his other hand, he grabbed his girth. It was too dark to see the way your glossy juices coated your thighs, but he could feel your wetness when he rubbed the head of his dick along your folds. Without a word of caution, he pressed the tip in. 

You held onto the sharp edges of the rock, steadying your breathing as he filled you. He proceeds pushing his hips in further — you could feel every ridge and vein against your inner walls. He didn’t stop until he bottomed out, the tip of his cock reaching a spot inside of you no one else had ever reached. He then pulls back out — slowly — until he slammed his hips back in a way that knocked the breath out of you.

“Oh my—God,” you whine.

Your mind was blank beside the building sensation in your core. You adjusted to his girth much faster this first time, finding yourself pushing back onto him, rolling your hips as you stroked him with your pussy.

“You feel so good. So good to me,” Spencer pants heavily. His hands slid to your shoulders, holding you steady as he fucks into you. He gritted his teeth in an effort to hold back his groans, even though no one was around to hear you. Still, it felt like he could summon a crowd just by his pathetically loud moans.

Spencer couldn’t hold it in any longer, his balls strained with his release as they slapped your ass with every thrust. “Need you to let go for me. Please, angel.” 

Your legs trembled in response, hands scrambling against the rocks until you found a new edge to grasp. 

“Oh Jesus, you’re so perfect. Oh— oh.”

His hot release painted your walls white, igniting your own orgasm. Spencer’s hips jerked into you, the head of his cock continuing to twitch, droplets of his cum spilled from your puffy lips, dripping down your legs.

He was bent over you, his heaving chest pressed against your sweat-slicked back. His hands remained loosely wrapped around your waist, protecting you from grazing yourself against the sharp stone.

“I needed that,” you admit as his cock softened inside of you.

“Me too,” he breathed out. “Are we good?”

The last few days had been a rollercoaster of emotions to say the least. He had every reason to be mad at you, to not want you in his life. And yet, he’s here — holding you like he never wanted to lose you again.

“Yes. We’re good.”

[catrianaghvst]

Through the walls

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.2.5 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

Neighbour!SimonRiley x f!reader

Part 2: Spin Cycle

You don’t mean to see him again. Not right away. But fate, apparently, has other plans.

It’s Saturday, early morning, you’re halfway down the stairs, lugging a laundry basket with one arm and a lukewarm cup of tea in the other, when you stop short.

He’s already in the laundry room.

You see him through the cracked door—back turned, sleeves pushed up, arms corded and tense as he loads a machine with practiced precision. Not rushed. Not lazy. Exact. The same way he moves down the hallway, like the world’s been mapped in advance and he’s just following coordinates.

You consider retreating. Coming back later. Giving him space.

Instead, you breathe deep and step inside.

The hum of the first washer starts. He doesn’t look at you.

“Morning,” you say, like you didn’t hesitate.

There’s a pause. Then: “Yeah.”

You blink. Not quite a greeting, not quite cold. Just… neutral. Walled off.

You move to the opposite end, giving him plenty of space, pretending not to notice the duffel bag slumped at his feet or the way he only brought dark clothes—uniform pieces, maybe. Not folded like civilian laundry. Rolled tight. Efficient.

“I usually come down earlier,” you offer. “Guess you beat me today.”

Nothing for a moment. Then, quietly: “Didn’t know there was a schedule.”

You glance at him, unsure if that was sarcasm. Hard to tell with the mask.

“I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.”

Silence settles thick between you.

You start your washer. Shirts. Jeans. A hoodie with frayed sleeves. The kind of domestic clutter that probably irritates someone like him.

He’s still standing at his machine. Watching the cycle begin.

You look over. “You ever take the mask off?”

His head shifts slightly, just enough to say he heard.

“No.”

You raise a brow. “Ever?”

“Not around people.”

The answer is calm. Not defensive.

You shouldn’t find that interesting. You do anyway.

You lean back against the folding table. “Alright, mystery man. Let me guess. Special forces? Black ops? Or are you just allergic to fresh air and eye contact?”

He finally looks at you. Not his full face—just that steady tilt of the mask, the glint of his lenses under the flickering light.

“Why are you trying to guess?”

You pause.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “You’re the only one in this building who doesn’t leave a trace. No noise. No deliveries. No scent of takeaway curry sneaking under the door. You’re like a rumour.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. Then: “People are noisy when they want to be noticed.”

“And you don’t?”

“No.”

You nod slowly, letting that settle.

You don’t ask more.

When his washer finishes, he loads his things into the dryer, closes the door without slamming it, and moves like he’s preparing for exit. No wasted steps.

At the door, he pauses.

“I’m not here to make friends.”

You shift your basket. Something soft flutters out and lands on the tile.

Your panties. A black lace pair, traitorously perched in plain sight.

You freeze.

He doesn’t. Just stands there, eyes on the fabric. A pause. A heartbeat.

Then his gaze lifts—slowly, deliberately—to meet yours.

You open your mouth, some scrambled apology half-forming—

He says nothing. Just looks.

And then, with the same quiet precision he uses for everything else, he opens the door and steps out.

[h1hikari]

An idea that changed my life a little bit

The theme of figure skating makes my heart flutter a lot, so it was only a matter of time before the concept of shadowpeach figure skaters appeared. Actually, I have a lot of thoughts about this idea, not only about monkeys but also about other characters

Also, this idea made me once again look for an figure skating coaching in the city where I live. Fortunately, I found such a section and now I have been working with a coach for 2.5 months and I am very glad that I was hired despite the fact that I am already 20 years old and I was completely far from sports

[enimsiyobeht]

changin (& their kinks) 2.5/4! 🐰🐽

minors do not interact! kinks stated per imagine.

SEO CHANGBIN. gym sex, thigh kink, size/height difference. (y'all aren't going to be able to pull me off of him, "till __" who said we were stopping? we ain't stopping).

changbin is buff, and i like it, he's my big boy 😻😻 those tank tops and compression shirts don't help but feed my urges. gym sex is a musttttt.

Changbin’s tank top clung to him like a second skin, sweat dripping down the slope of his neck, chest rising and falling heavy with exertion. His shorts were riding up with every stretch of his thick, flushed thighs.

You leaned in the doorway, frozen. Changbin noticed—of course he did. That smirk curled slow across his lips.

"You’re staring, hyung," Changbin murmured, grabbing a towel to pat his neck. “You okay?”

“You can’t just—look like that. After leg day.”

Changbin sauntered closer, brushing past You like he wasn’t innocent at all. “I don’t see anyone else here, do you?”

It wasn’t long before You had him bent over a padded bench, one hand over Changbin’s mouth, the other gripping his hip as You fucked into him with short, desperate thrusts.

“Keep quiet,” You hissed, breath hot in his ear. “You started this. Now take it.”

Changbin only moaned louder against your hand, pushing back into every thrust with a whimper.

and a buff boy with buff thighs, omggh i need it, i need him suffocating me, i need him crushing my head like a watermelon.

Changbin sat on the edge of a workout bench in just compression shorts, thighs flexing with every tiny movement. You were already kneeling, hands gripping tight around them.

“Hyung,” Changbin teased, voice low and lazy, “You gonna fuck me or just keep making out with my legs?”

You smirked, dragging your tongue up the inside of Changbin’s thigh. “Shut up. I could come just like this.”

Changbin blinked, breath hitching.

Without a word, You lined your cock up and pushed it between Changbin’s thighs—slick from sweat and oil you’d rubbed on earlier just to tempt him.

“Hold ‘em tight for me,” You whispered.

Changbin squeezed, thighs flexing deliciously around your cock. The slide was obscene—hot, tight, perfect.

You rutted into them like you were possessed, whispering filth the whole time. “So thick, so warm—fuck—your thighs were made for this.”

Changbin was moaning just from the sound of it.

even if my buff boy is short, he's mighty, but with that i think he'd like a size difference.

You pressed up behind him, already hard, already breathless from watching Changbin’s ass the whole walk over.

“Wanna see something hot?” You growled, voice low.

Before Changbin could answer, You lifted him—just like that. One hand under each thigh, Changbin's legs wrapped tight around him, body pinned against cold tile of the bathroom.

“Oh my god—y/n—”

“You’re so small like this,” You panted, cock grinding against him through the towel. “Let me fuck you like you weigh nothing.”

And You did. Deep, heavy thrusts while holding Changbin off the ground. Changbin clung to your shoulders, eyes fluttering, crying out with every bounce.

“Hyung—you’re so big—I can feel all of you—”

You kissed him hard, fucked him harder, and made sure every inch of was felt.

(previous) | (next part)

[highhhfiveee]

happy tuesday (: who do we want? fwb!sae itoshi!when do we want him? now! [been sitting on this one for a week or so!]

cw. angst, smut (face fucking [m!receiving, between fwb!sae x ryusei shidou <3….damn near a hate fuck], masturbation, multiple mentions of previous sexual encounters).

an. sae is crashing out!

1: x | 2: x | 2.5: x | 4: x

you’re standing on the corner outside of fwb!sae’s apartment building, wrapping your arms around yourself against the early afternoon wind, and all you can think about is how shitty you feel.

there aren’t many people dotting the streets, and you’re thankful for that as your eyes fog up with tears.

sure, sae had never been a ray of sunshine. he was the final boss of nonchalance, and while you’d known that, you’d never expected him to treat you so flippantly.

you’d been caught up in lust, the strong chemical reaction between your bodies leading to flutters in your abdomen that only felt like romance. it was a mirage, some kind of pre-orgasm haze where you’d believed that something like that would work.

you’d began messing around with sae for the sole reason that you didn’t want the rigidity of a relationship. you’d rejected tradition in favor for freedom, exploration, fun.

this? this moment? this feeling? this…nagging worry about the future of your relationship with sae? that wasn’t fun.

it stung like a rubber band snapped against skin, sharp at the area of impact with a dull ache making its appearance soon after.

you’re tired. the uber finally arrives, a spacious SUV with a driver that doesn’t mind a lack of conversation. you stare out the window, allowing yourself an attempt to overwrite all memories of sae itoshi with bleeding frames of trees, buildings, and street lights.

you throw yourself onto your bed when you’re finally home, spending the next half hour checking your phone for a text from sae. you’ll take anything, but at the very least, you’re expecting him to ask if you made it home safe.

nothing.

even after a long, sob-filled shower, takeout food, and one shitty romantic dramedy, nothing.

you’re still obsessing over him at midnight, huffing and screaming and shoving your phone under your pillow when you’re disappointed for the millionth time that day.

sae wants you to hurt, you think. he wants to hurt you as some sort of sick, twisted punishment for letting yourself get too comfortable. you didn’t think him the type to do petty things like that, but did you ever really know him? if he could cast you aside that easily after having sex with you, why wouldn’t he be capable of something just as terrible? something worse?

no way he’d have this over you. dwelling over sae and his bullshit would only sink the knife deeper into your chest, and you didn’t deserve that kind of stress. if you weren’t in his head, he’d have no residence in yours either.

you’re staring up at your slow-moving ceiling fan when you feel your skull buzz. you dig out your phone with more haste than you’d like, feeling your skin flush with shame, but the sensation passes as you read over the notification on your screen.

the axis of sae’s world shifted.

the change in energy had begun when he left his house that day, catching every red light and finding himself stuck behind geriatric fucks on his way to practice. he’d never laid on the horn more in his life, and it had him walking into the training facility irritated and out of it.

there was this ache in his chest too, pestering him as he ran through drills and formations.

“heartburn?” shidou, despite all his ferocity, cocked a concerned eyebrow at the hand pressed into sae’s sternum. “gotta lay off the fried shit, bro.”

sae only nodded, returning back to his reps. he hadn’t even eaten; he’d been so fixated on fucking you seeing you earlier that he’d driven over on an empty stomach, set to grab something after your sesh.

he felt nauseous, his vision and brain unfocused as he forced himself through conditioning.

from then on, soccer had intentions to make an example out of him.

something that had been second nature, engrained into his DNA…strengthened with blood, sweat, and tears, was fighting against him in solidarity with you. he blew on the practice field, fucking up passes and moving with disgusting uncertainty.

the actual games were a slight improvement, though it’s nothing to write home about. he’s underperforming, and while he’s managing to tread the murky waters, he starts drowning himself looking for you in the crowd.

he’d been moving you progressively closer and closer to the sidelines as your relationship grew, more acclimated to your screeching cheers and full-body excitement. he could easily spot you in a sea of people, and your new habit of absence was jarring.

shidou is the first to notice. he was the only player on the U20 team that had been paying attention to the change in sae’s attitude. he’d watched in real time how sae perked up ever so slightly around you, stared at you like you were the next prize for him to win.

shidou knew that you’d charmed him with your pussy personality, and while he’d stayed quiet regarding you before, he couldn’t help but prod at sae now that you were off duty.

wiping sweat from his brow, he stops sae with a hand on the shoulder before a restart. “where’s your cheerleader?”

it takes everything in sae not to bite the smug grin off shidou’s fucking face, but he keeps his composure, muttering, “i dunno. maybe she’s sick.”

it’s a half truth, but only because sae doesn’t actually know. you two haven’t spoken in almost three months.

he’d wanted to give you space. that was always a good thing, right? in his mind, he’d already said enough, and if you wanted to talk to him, you could.

sae brushed off the first few weeks of nothing, though his mind began to break at month one. you were still posting on your stories and talking to other people, just not to him.

at a month and a half in, he finally surrendered and sent you a DM; hey y/n, are we okay?

you didn’t even read it.

he’d lost you, and he hated how much it fucking bothered him. it wasn’t supposed to; he remembered what he’d told himself. he wouldn’t care if he was no longer what you wanted and you went to go find it, yet, here he was, gnawing at his nails and ripping his hair out wondering what you were up to.

through months two and three, he’d become a more extreme version of his former self; closed-off and bitter towards anyone that crossed his path.

the poisonous feeling of your rejection was an aura that radiated off of him like body odor, and shidou takes advantage of that.

he convinces himself that he’s only trying to fire sae up, get his ego pumping so that he can dominate the field again. it’s for the good of the team and sae’s soccer career, surely. there are absolutely no personal feelings involved! <3

there’s a mention for every time you’re AWOL, and the turmoil that it brings sae gets shidou to the edge every time.

“missing your good luck charm?”

”can’t play without pussy, huh, itoshi?”

“you must’ve fucked up big time.”

it’s a long three months, leading up to blue lock vs the U20s.

“oh, she’s baaaaaaack,” shidou sings, cackling at sae almost snapping his neck to find you. he’s about to beat the shit out of shidou for playing around when he feels his strong hands grasp his shoulders, turning him to the opposite side of the stands.

he eyes you in a second, almost cracking a smile at getting to see you again. your beauty is never wholly captured through a phone camera, and seeing you in person again is enough to make sae shed a single tear, but you’re not there for him.

you’re wearing a blue lock jersey, clustered up with a bunch of groupies screaming out for tabito karasu.

no fucking way.

it gets a sour laugh out of sae, who knows you see him too. you’re just avoiding eye contact, keeping your stare honed in on karasu and isagi and sae’s lukewarm brother.

karasu’s groupies manage to get his attention, and he turns to revel in it, throwing a wink into the crowd. there are squeals of exhilaration, high-pitched voices arguing over who he’d done it to, but to sae, it’s clear as day.

you’re not sly at all with the sheepish way you sink into your seat, covering your blushed cheeks with the thick scarf hanging around your neck.

“get the fuck off of me,” sae swears, throwing shidou back as he stomps away from the scene.

he doesn’t care.

anything past friends with benefits would’ve been disastrous for the both of you.

he doesn’t need you.

he’s still thinking that after the U20s lose, stalking away from the field before the timer even goes off. he’s not feeling like much of a good sportsman, the image of choking karasu with the blue and white confetti blanketing the field blazing bright behind his eyes.

going to the locker room is best, the least violent option for everyone involved.

“yo, itoshi,” sae’s not sure how long he’s been letting himself suffocate under the sharp stream of water, failing to address shidou. “want some company?”

it’s not the first time they’ve been here, post-game with a cocktail of mania and exhaustion coursing through their veins. there’s a need for release, even more so in this moment.

sometimes it’s more innocent; the literal scrubbing of each other’s backs, a massage here or there, but when it’s not, it’s not.

sae had considered shidou as your replacement, though he was so different from you that it would quite literally be unbearable. yeah, sae could stand a bit of his brattiness as their groins collided, cocks sliding against each other with ease, or shidou’s insistence to always make sae come first when they’re jerking each other off, but he wasn’t like you.

he wasn’t soft, or patient enough to withstand sae’s shortcomings. he was messy and crude and annoying, and sae couldn’t live with that.

you had been his friend before anything, and sae refused to give shidou such a distinguished title.

he lets shidou in his stall nonetheless, motioning for him to drop to his knees.

“i’m not her, you know,” he gripes with an eye roll, obeying despite himself. “you’re not gonna boss me around.”

sae ignores him, grabbing a handful of his hair in one hand and the base of his cock with the other.

“if you’re looking to replace her, i’m not the one.”

“god, dude, shut the fuck up,” sae groans, stuffing shidou’s mouth full. he relishes in the tight feeling of his throat contracting at the sudden intrusion, holding him there until he’s satisfied. “you piss me the fuck off.”

their session is mean and impolite this time around, with shidou only allowed to let out gags and chokes and globs of drool. sae refuses to let up, fucking his teammate’s skull into the steamy, slick tile wall of the shower stall.

“i wouldn’t want to replace her with you anyway, dipshit. you fucking suck,” sae spits, slipping out of shidou’s mouth and stroking his cock until his balls are lurching and his come is leaving its mark all over shidou’s wrecked face, topped off with an intentional spray of come to the eye.

shidou launches to his feet with a steady stream of raspy expletives, elbowing sae in the ribs. he rinses his face off, paying extra attention to his stinging right eye. “you’re a piece of shit, itoshi.”

“pot, kettle.”

sae’s next try at a replacement is his own hand.

it doesn’t feel as good as when he’s nestled deep in your cunt, watching your eyes glass over and teeth dig into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. you’re always so warm and so tight, clenching down on his cock every time his hips move.

his hand feels nothing like that. even with a solid effort, squeezing at the tip on each stroke and slathering himself in enough come-colored lube to trick himself into thinking that it’s you creaming all over him, it doesn’t work.

you’re not physically there and he likes to see you, likes to feel you. he wants to feel your skin on his, the sensation of your walls trapping his cock inside while you come for him, the trembling of your body reverberating all the way to his spine. he wants to see your pretty fucking face twisting at how good he makes you feel.

he’d been looking at the picture of you in his jersey for the last twenty minutes, but it was getting him nowhere. he hadn’t masturbated in forever, so used to you being there for his sexual pleasure.

nothing could compare to you. he was such an idiot.

he gives himself a few more lazy strokes before letting out an irritable sigh and giving up, wiping his gross, lubed-up hand on his comforter.

his ruined orgasm clouds his brain, and he’s grabbing his phone to watch your story. he knows you see him, watching and engaging with everything you post.

the only thing you have up now is from an hour ago; it’s a video of you at a party, screaming over the sounds of knocking bass and drunk laughter.

“tab, c’mereeeeee,” you mewl, angling the camera to perfectly capture karasu’s arms wrapping around your waist and his head tucking itself into the crook of your neck. “i’m here…with a winner, everyone…”

you giggle as his teeth bare themselves, nipping at your skin and causing you to moan. “hey, hey, not on camera!”

the video ends with you tilting his head up to be level with yours, leaning forward to give him a sloppy peck on the lips.

sae’s not sure when he’d thrown clothes on, or gotten in the car, or started driving to wherever the fuck you are. he’s just angry and wrangling with the unfortunate truth:

there was nothing that could replace you, but you’d done a fine job replacing him.

tabito karasu. sae would kill that motherfucker.

i hope you all enjoyed this! i love writing sluts <3

[goosewriting]

Pitter-patter 🌧

summary: blurb of reader and Cal waking up on a rainy day, cuddling in bed

relationship: Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: none

word count: 1k

A/N: inspired by waking up to the sound of rain hitting my window the other day and thinking how nice it would be to cuddle cal in bed :’) this can be read as a stand-alone blurb, but in my mind this takes place shortly after warmth. kind of like a 2.5 chapter. the third and final part of that series is coming soon~

[all masterlists] 🪶 [star wars masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

You stir awake to the sound of soft rain hitting the transparisteel.

It’s rare for you to wake up before your alarms and before Cal. Usually by the time you get up, he’s already gone or about to leave. You take a deep breath, considering going back to sleep. But you fight the fog in your mind momentarily to turn and look at the man beside you. For once, he’s not being plagued by nightmares.

Cal lies on his side right next to you, one of his arms slung over you. You take your time studying his face, so relaxed, he looks younger. Despite the dark clouds outside, a slight sliver of light peeks through the curtains, momentarily making Cal’s freckled skin shine. Your hand comes up out of its own volition, and you trace your fingertips over his cheek ever so gently. 

His eyes flutter, his brows scrunching together, and his hold on you tightens. He nuzzles his face into the pillow, then blinks a couple of times to look at you. His irises glow in the darkness of the room like puddles of molten gold. You smile at him as you cup his cheek.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What time is it?” he grumbles, sleep laced in his voice. 

“Still early.”

Cal scoots closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck and hugging you fully into him. Your arm goes around his shoulders, and one of your hands softly runs through his hair. The other, Cal takes into his own, caressing your knuckles.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, not wanting to ruin this rare and tender moment. The only thing you can hear is the soft rain and Cal’s rhythmic breaths. 

“This is nice,” he says after a while.

“It is…” you agree, and an idea pops up in your mind. “Do you think they’ll approve a vacation for us if we apply? We could sleep in like this every day.”

Cal chuckles, and the sounds reverberates through your whole body.

“You might be able to apply, but I don’t think I get one of those,” he mumbles, placing a lazy kiss on your jaw. 

You hum, thinking of an alternative.

“Maybe we can get deployed together somewhere. A planet with nice beaches,” you start fantasising, freeing your hand from his to trace figures on his bare shoulder. “After the job gets done, we don’t report back just yet, telling them we’ll need one more day. And we can stay at a nice hotel with a view. We’ll order room service, have a nice dinner. Sleep in the next morning.”

Cal leans back a bit to look at you and props up his head on his hand, amusement etched into his face at your plan, but you can still see the slight pain around the edges, as you both know it’s a nice “what if” scenario that will never happen. 

“And then we go to the beach and play in the water, build a sand castle, look for pretty seashells,” you continue your fantasy. 

Cal sighs, one of his rare genuine smiles spreading on his lips as he closes his eyes. He can see it so clearly: your sun-kissed skin glistening in the turquoise waters as you playfully splash water at him, he hugs you from behind and your laugh fills his ears and heart. He can hear the waves, feel the warmth of the sun and your body pressed to his, feel the silky sheets against his skin as he shows you how much you mean to him, loving you with such intensity that for one night, you’d both forget about the Fortress entirely. 

Letting out a shuddering breath at that last thought, Cal’s eyes open again, and his gaze finds yours, watching him closely. 

“What were you thinking about?” you whisper, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

He shakes his head slightly with a half shrug, his free hand coming to your face, softly running his knuckles over your cheek.

“Just trying to imagine what a vacation with you would be like,” he says, and you lean into his touch.

“And what’s the verdict?”

His smile saddens visibly.

“If only.” 

“Maybe we can figure something out,” you prop yourself up on your side as well as you mentally start to trace out a plan of action. “I could fake a report of an anonymous tip, saying there’s been a Jedi sighting on some obscure planet and I’ll volunteer to interrogate the locals and–”

He softly calls your name to stop your rambling, gently pushing you back onto the bed, and you let yourself plop back down with a pout. 

“There’s no way that’ll work and you know that.”

“I know but… When I try to think of a way to make it work, it makes me feel like it could actually be a possibility at all, you know.”

“I know…” he sighs and rolls onto his back, pulling you with him to lie on his chest, hugging you tightly. “We’ll have to get up soon, let’s just stay here while we can.”

You pull back to look down at him, eyes glimmering with resolution.

“I promise I’ll make it happen somehow, Cal,” you assure him. And for some reason, he believes you.

“Okay,” he breathes.

You snuggle back into him, and Cal’s thoughts start racing. After a moment, his hold around you tightens and his heart rate picks up. You want to tease him about it as you feel his racing pulse underneath you, but he speaks first. 

“Thank you,” he says as he kisses your temple.

“For what?” you ask, confused.

He doesn’t answer immediately.

“For loving me.”

You lift your head to look at him, a warm smile on your face. 

“Well, I’m glad you know you’re loved,” you say and lean in to kiss his lips. “Because you are.”

Burying your face back into his chest, you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent that is so distinctly Cal, and you start drifting off to the sounds of rain outside and his soft breaths, wishing that every morning could be like this. 

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomlover, @lovelyygirl8, @cathyket, @wildefire, @ghostkestis, @reckoning-star, @wyvernthekriger, @padawan-solimar, @batboysandgirls, @toelady, @hardkiddonut, @theblazes-world, @bluesprings18, @call-me-a-fool, @braveangel780, @mmcringelordmcgee, @magikdarkholme, @reckoning-star, @crumbledcastle28

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 3

In which your best friend comes back to you. But is it too late?

Warnings: oof the angst. swearing. that's it. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Word Count: 2.5k words

(a/n: this is how i cope after that hot mess of a race today. i hate everything and everyone except for my pookie bear lando norris)

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - Master List

2021 You keep your promises. 

2022  And then he started dating her. 

2023 Silence.

March, 2024Australia 

“We are so excited to have you join the team.” Your new boss beams back at you as you follow her through the corridor. “Thank you for making the flight at such short notice. Had we known Summer was going to quit so abruptly, we would have had you come out with the team earlier in the week.” 

You nod, adjusting the collar of your new papaya and black polo. “Of course, I’m just happy it all worked out.” 

The heat of the Australian sun beats down outside the McLaren hospitality building, but inside the air is cool and dry. You’d landed in the country last night after what felt like the longest flight you’ve ever taken from New York into Melbourne but were so happy to be back in the paddock after what felt like ages. 

“Like we discussed earlier in the month, you’ll be working with Oscar as his primary press officer. I’m sure you know what that entails and everything, not much has changed since Carlos was with the team, but if you have any questions you have my number.” Brenda smiles down at you as she hands you your new McLaren issued iPhone.  

Three weeks ago, you had graduated from NYU with a double degree in public relations and business management. One week later, you had accepted a job offer from McLaren to join the communications team working with Oscar. Between your dual degree and experience working in the paddock with your brother, the job had been a slam dunk for you.

“The boys are just finishing up some filming up stairs. Let’s go up and introduce you to Oscar. You already know Lando.” She says, with a bit of a smile. Your friendship with the Brit was well known back during the years you were still working with Carlos. No one knew how much it had changed since though. 

Nerves fluttered around in your stomach as you follow Brenda up to the second floor where you could hear Oscar and Lando loudly laughing at something. As far as you knew, Lando was unaware that you had taken a job with McLaren. You had asked Carlos and Charles to keep your new job quiet around the paddock, not wanting to create drama before it was necessary. This was certainly going to be a shock, you knew that. 

The last time you saw him flashes through your memory, quick and painful, as Brenda approaches where Oscar and Lando stand each holding dry erase boards. 

Early 2022

“What do you mean she doesn’t want me around?” You nearly laugh, the absurdity of what your best friend is telling you not fully computing. 

Lando grips the back of his neck, eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Our friendship makes her uncomfortable.” 

Now you really do laugh. “What friendship, Lan? I’ve barely seen you this year!” 

It was the truth. Ever since you had started classes in New York last year, your time to see your best friend had dwindled down into nearly nothing. You went to as many races as you could but going from spending nearly 24/7 with your brother and Lando to barely seeing them once every few months was more painful than you had anticipated. It hurt so much to watch him continue on, seemingly so unbothered by losing you, but this? This was the last straw. 

He had been dating the Portuguese model for a bit now and you had to admit, she was pretty and wonderfully nice. You truly had no issue with her, having met her once at a Grand Prix you had attended before classes had started this year. She was quiet, sweet, and obviously adored Lando so her being with him was fine with you. You wanted to see your best friend happy. But now? Now she was threatened by someone who wasn’t even a second thought in Lando’s head? 

You had spent the last few months desperately trying to believe that Lando wasn’t pulling away, that he wasn’t purposefully putting distance between you and him. Texts would go unanswered, calls went unreturned. You had chalked it up to him being busy and adjusting to having a new teammate but now you guess you had the truth: he was avoiding you. 

“If that’s what you want, I’ll respect your wishes.” You murmur, taking a step away, suddenly wanting nothing more than to retreat back into the Ferrari motorhome where you could nurse your embarrassment in peace. 

“It’s not…” Lando fumbles, but you know what he’s about to say isn’t true. This is exactly what he wants. 

“No, I get it Lan. She’s threatened by me. I respect that and I’ll make myself scarce this weekend. You and her won’t have to worry about me anymore.” 

The pain of your words slices through Lando. He hadn’t wanted to do this, far from it. But the fight that she had started last night when she had seen you in the pit lane laughing with Carlos and Charles had put him in a tight spot. You were his best friend, but she was his girlfriend. He owed her the respect, right? Even if he knew that nothing was going on, nothing could happen. It wasn’t in the cards for the two of you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. 

“Me too, Lan.

You blink rapidly, erasing the painful memory from your brain as your boss steps towards Oscar and Lando, who are watching you approach. The look on Lando’s face sends your pulse skyrocketing. It’s a look that’s somewhere between surprise, confusion, and maybe even a bit of betrayal and you hate every bit of it. 

“Oscar, I wanted to introduce you to your new press officer. She just landed last night so I’m sure she’s a bit jet lagged but she insisted on getting to work straight away. She’ll be taking you around for media duties after FP2 today so be nice, okay?” 

“I’m always nice.” The Aussie says, soft smile on his lips. “It’s nice to meet you. Lando talks about you all the time.” 

Your eyes dart towards Lando, who is still somewhat glaring at you like he can’t believe you’re in front of him. He talks about you? Still? Your stomach does an involuntary somersault at this bit of information, blush creeping its way high up on your cheek bones. 

The phone in your hand chimes with a reminder. Oscar is due to an Australian media outlet in ten minutes for an interview. “Well, that’s my cue.” You turn to the girl that had been filming the segment with a friendly smile. “Is he good to go?” 

“He’s all yours!” 

With permission to leave, you turn on your heel and walk towards the staircase, Oscar in tow. Lando watches after you, still struggling to process what just happened. You worked for McLaren now? As Oscar’s press officer? He had just played padel with Carlos this fucking morning and he hadn’t said a single word about this. Surly Carlos had known about your taking the job so why hadn’t he told him? Did you not want him to know? Did you hate him so much that you didn’t even care if he knew or not? How had the most important person in his life become someone he just used to know once? 

That last fight before he…said some of the the most shameful thing he’s ever said flashes through his mind as he wanders down to his drivers room, suddenly needing a break. 

“You literally never shut up about her. ‘She does this.’ And ‘she does that’. Jesus Christ, Lando you could not be more obvious about it.” The anger in her voice had set his teeth on edge. “And now I have to sit and watch the, what did they call you guys? The Chaos Gremlins? Now I have to sit and watch The Chaos Gremlins be reunited for the entire fucking weekend and just sit back and take it?” 

“There is nothing going on between us.” Lando insists, running his hands through his curls. “I haven’t seen her in months. Months!” 

“But there would be if she was here, right?” 

He had no answer for her. Because she was probably right in her assumption. If you had stayed, Lando had no idea what would’ve happened. 

“It’s her or me, Lando.” 

The rest of the day passes in what feels like the blink of an eye. By the time Oscar is done with all of his interviews at the end of the evening, you feel dead on your feet. You’ve lost all sense of time, feeling like you’ve been hit with a truck and you want nothing more than to get back to your hotel room and sleep for the next 5 to 10 business days. Or the last free practice tomorrow afternoon. 

The Uber to the hotel takes far too long but just as your eyes are about to shutter closed in the back seat, you arrive and drag your near lifeless body up to your room. A quick shower is all you have the energy for, desperately needing to get the germs of the day off and then, you’re in bed, blissfully tucked between soft white cotton sheets watching some weird Australian soap opera. 

Your eyes are heavy when the alert dings and you nearly ignore it, assuming it’s Carlos checking in. He could wait until you saw him tomorrow. But a quick glance shows you it isn’t Carlos. 

You don’t fully understand why you gave him your room number. Not when the only thing on your mind is going to sleep. This is probably a really bad time to have such an important conversation too but a part of you, that part of you that never stopped hoping that maybe one day your best friend would come back to you, that part of you wanted to get this out of the way so you could move on, with or without him. 

Ten minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the door and you haul yourself out of bed, still bone numbingly tired but also strangely keyed up with nervous energy. This would be the first time you had really spoken to Lando since that night two years ago. Sure, you two had exchanged pleasantries when you found yourself in the paddock for a race weekend but most of the time you kept to yourself in the Ferrari garage and motorhome, making sure your presence wasn’t noticed by anyone outside of your brother and Charles. 

Tugging on your favorite NYU crewneck, you pad towards the door while willing your racing heart beat to slow. This is fine. This is going to be okay. You two needed to talk if you were going to be working closely this year so this had to happen sooner or later. 

The door swings open and Lando stands in front of you looking just as exhausted and devastated as you feel. 

“Hi.” He breathes, hands wringing together. 

“Hi Lan.” You sigh. 

His smile widens at the nickname and you open the door a bit wider to allow him in. You cross the room, settling on the king size bed before staring up at him. “You wanted to talk?” 

The pain in his eyes cuts such a deep slice through you, it’s a wonder you don’t start bleeding out on the bedspread. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” He crosses the room towards you, setting every nerve ending in your body firing. He’s too close and you can’t control yourself when he’s like this. 

You shrug, wondering how you’re still able to hold yourself together at this point. “I didn’t think you’d care.” 

Lando drops his gaze away from you then, shame and anger surging across his handsome features. “Of course I’d care.” 

“You didn’t when you chose her over me.” 

He drags a hand over his face, the look of misery that sits on his face is reminiscent of the night you told him you were moving to New York City all those years ago. The memory brings a surge of white hot pain that cuts you so deeply it steals the breath from your lungs. If you had known that this was where you’d end up, you didn’t know if you would have made the same decision. 

“And listen, that was fine, I guess. You had to respect your relationship with her but the most confusing thing was afterwards. Why the radio silence after?” You fold your hands into your lap, unable to meet the gaze that you feel so heavy on your skin. He’s practically begging you to look at him but you simply can’t. 

“I was ashamed.” He admits and you feel the tears prick at the back of your eyes, a hot and painful sting that reminds you of how much you’ve lost. “I was ashamed at how I treated you and couldn’t face it.” 

“Rightfully so.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs while reaching for your hand. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I should have told her to fuck off for making me choose between her and you. I should have chosen my best friend and I’ve regretted that decision every day of my life since.” 

The fact that you’re finally hearing the words you’ve been dreaming of hearing for nearly two years hits you like a ton of bricks. Here he was, your best friend, finally apologizing and owning up to his mistakes and for some reason, it felt like it was all just too little too late. How many nights had you stayed up, sobbing on your living room couch with your roommates over the stupid boy who was mean to you? Wondering what you had done to make him treat you like this? Hadn’t your friendship meant more than what it had ended up being? 

And now, here you were, back in his orbit again and it just…didn’t matter. You had spent so many nights wishing this would come and now that he was finally taking responsibility and owning up to his actions, it just didn’t feel like it was enough. 

“I think you should go.” 

“What?” He stutters, fingers gripping yours almost desperately. 

“I am exhausted and need some time to process this Lando. And you have quali tomorrow, you need to be focusing on racing, not on our issues.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about racing.” He bites out, blue eyes turning stormy gray with anger. “I want to fix this.” 

“This isn’t something that can be fixed with a single conversation.” 

You didn’t even know if it could be fixed at all, if you were being honest with yourself. 

“Then I’ll keep going until it is fixed, I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Lando.” You warn, rising from the bed. “I need to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Lando feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest. He had never intended for your friendship to end up like this. It just…slipped away from him and he was so swept away by his lifestyle the last year that he convinced himself you were both better off where you were instead of together like the universe intended. He had been so scared to admit how wrong he had been, choosing her over you that night that he had allowed it to spiral so out of control it might never come back to him. You might never come back to him. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16 @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00

[peachdues]

Mayhaps some Sanemi NFSW headcanons 🤲

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA NSFW HEADCANONS

I neither regret nor apologize for how carried away I got with this.

CW: f!Reader • NSFW • MDNI • Sanemi’s oral fixation • breeding/creampie kink • switch!Sanemi • exhibitionism

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

He has a silvery happy trail that begins just below his navel and runs narrow before widening just before his groin. He really likes it when you drag your tongue down it (and it's a sure way to get him panting).

Below the belt, he keeps his hair neat and trimmed -- any time you're spent gagging on a stray pubic hair is time you're not spending with your mouth around his cock, and that's just a tragedy (but he doesn't give a shit whether or not you have hair!)

Now let's get to the good part: his dick

Physically, Sanemi's cock is just like the rest of him: absolutely intimidating. You lowkey think you're going to die the first time you see it because there's just no way in hell that's going to fit without splitting you in half, right???

He's above average in length -- about a solid 6.5-7 inches when hard, but he's about 2.5 of HIS fingers in girth. When he's erect, it stands straight up, with an angry, red tip that's already leaking because the man is eager -- and not just to be in you, but cum in you, too. Whether it's your mouth or your cunt, it doesn't matter, just know you're going to be filled no matter what.

FOREPLAY

Sanemi's favorite snack might be ohagi, but after meeting you, it's your pussy.

Sanemi doesn't cow before anyone, but that man will drop to his knees for you with just a flutter of your eyelashes, head going straight between your thighs so he can have his fill of you until you're doubled over his shoulder, legs shaking so badly he has to hold you up.

His ideal day consists of you, sitting on his face, while being tongue-deep inside of your cunt. He can go at it for hours, your weight bearing down on him as your thighs cage his head, while he laps at your sweetness and wraps those sinful lips of his around your throbbing, overstimulated clit for a nice long suck.

the man is a connoisseur of cunt idk what else to say

HOW HE FUCKS YOU

Let's go over your first time together.

Though he has an incredibly high sex drive, during those first couple of times, he exerts the self-control of a Buddhist monk.

This is also because for him, sex is more than just a way to feel good (though, don't get him wrong -- it feels fucking incredible). For Sanemi, sex also means being vulnerable; it means letting someone see him without the armor of his sword, his uniform, his status as the brutal, relentless Pillar he is.

So whether it's your first time ever or just your first time with him, he's going to be gentle -- because Sanemi would rather eat and shit glass than hurt you

Like come on, the man has buried too many of his loved ones already, he ain't tryin' to bury you, too

He's moving slow and languid, barely pulling out in favor of rolling his hips into yours. Part of this is for your benefit, because he wants you to feel him, but it's also for his.

Sanemi might be balls-deep in you at the moment, but he's still a Hashira, and his observation and perception skills are sharp. He's mentally taking note of what touches and movements make you gasp and sigh, and especially those that make you dig your nails into his back, tighten your legs around him, and whimper his name.

After a couple of times together (and I mean like two MAX), buckle up, buttercup: Sanemi is now an expert in your body and he's about to educate you.

Okay, now that the first time is out of the way, let's talk Sanemi in bed overall

This man is a moaner

I'm sorry, but Sanemi Shinazugawa has never known how to keep his fucking mouth shut, so what makes you think he'd do so in bed? When your slick, tight walls are gripping him like a fucking vice? Who tf do you think he is, Tomioka??

He's also a talker -- especially the more pussydrunk he gets. Whether it's your name, how much he loves you, that he wants to marry you or get you pregnant, the man may as well be giving a sermon in his devotion to you while your eyes are rolled back in your skull, mouth half-open as he fucks every sane thought you've ever had right out of your pretty head.

The man is a switch. He's a dom in every other aspect of his life, so it's nice to let loose with his lover a bit and relax -- let someone else take control. After all, sex for Sanemi isn't just about feeling fucking fantastic, but it's also about expressing with his body what he can't with his words.

When he's on top, he's a service dom. Your pleasure is his pleasure -- so even as his cock slides in and out of you, he's still going to work. He's not cumming until you've cum at least two or three times, and even after he's done, he's still going to make you cum again. He's constantly telling you how good you are, how beautiful you look in whatever position he has you bent in, and how perfect you feel around him.

That said, he's into both overstimulating and edging you -- but he's not too mean about either.

But when Sanemi is on the bottom?

The whiniest bitch you've ever met.

He's begging you to go faster, or simply to give him more, but you love teasing him as much as he does you, so you'll alternate your pace in order to prolong his torture (but hey, it just means he cums twice as much and twice as hard in the end).

Play with his balls while you're on top and he will cum so hard he goes cross-eyed for a hot second

I feel like the fandom largely agrees Sanemi has a breeding kink, but I also thinks this translates into a creampie kink in general. Sure, he'll cum on your face, your tits, your thighs as much as you want -- but only after he's filled your greedy little cunt to its brim, and then he'll do it one more time for good measure. You're his girl, after all, so he knows you can take it.

Initially, he'd pull out every time, mostly because he didn't know how to apporach the subject of asking you whether you were okay with him finishing inside. He didn't want to assume that you were taking some sort of medication to prevent an accidental whoopsie, but while he loves the idea of getting you pregnant and having a family, he doesn't want to force that on you if it's not what you want

(local mama's boy has childhood trauma?? from his father?? it's more likely than you think)

so Sanemi continues to pull out, instead painting your stomach, your thighs, or your ass with his creamy, hot seed, even though it pains him to do so.

That is, until one night, he's pounding into you so goddamn perfectly, with your legs draped over his forearms and ass nearly resting against his thighs as he ruts into you, his weight pressing deliciously down upon you into the futon. You can tell by the way his hips are slapping against yours, making the lewd, squelching sound of your messy cunt nearly drown out your breathy whimpers, that you're close -- so, so close, but then Sanemi tenses.

"I'm 'bout to cum," he manages to grit through his teeth, his hips stuttering as he goes to pull out of your intoxicating, silken heat. Through the haze he's created in your mind, your stomach clenches as you realize you're going to lose this -- this wonderful feeling of being so warm and so full of him. Your release is close, so fucking close, and if he pulls out now, it's going to be ruined and you're so desperate to cum. Your legs lock around his backside, trying to hold him in place, and his eyes widen.

"N-no, 'Nemi, please," you start to beg, and to his bewilderment, you start tearing up, lower lip quivering because he can't pull out, not when he's making you feel so good; not when you're so fucking close.

"Shit," he groans, and his hips pick right back up slamming against you, his biceps flexing as his arms tighten around your thighs. "Shit, sweetheart, you don't have to ask me twice."

After that -- pulling out??? never heard of her.

KINK-O-CLOCK

Like I said: his biggest kink is giving you so many creampies, Hostess is thinking about offering him a job in product development

Fucking loves 69'ing, because he gets the best of both worlds -- your pussy on his face, and your mouth around his cock

Bit of a risk kink/exhibitionism kink. He likes the thrill of the risk of getting caught doing it in a place you two shouldn't be. He gets especially turned on at the thought of you having to go about your usual business while his cum is still oozing out of you.

Loves when you play with his ass but would rather be eaten by a demon than admit it.

Once, while you were on your knees in front of him, his cock jammed down your throat, you reached your hands around him to grip his ass and haul him closer. Somehow, your fingers dipped between his cheeks and the man bucked into you so hard, you almost choked.

Even though he nearly triggered your gag reflex, you were able to ignore it because the man let out a wholeass whine -- so of course, you had to do it again.

The second your index finger dipped towards his opening, he came in your mouth, and he came hard.

He likes to bite you/leave marks on you -- especially your breasts, your hips, and your inner thighs. He also enjoys when you mark him -- make sure to give him one or two on his chest, so he can display them proudly.

Truthfully, he loves when you pin him down by his wrists while riding him. Could he overpower you with a flick of his pinky finger? Yes. But something about your small hands wrapping so tightly around his while you hold him down against the bed, your hips grinding and swiveling up and down his length makes him go a little dumb in the brain.

Fun fact! You once restrained him by both his wrists and ankles and rode him and by the end of it, he looked like this:

[n0tamused]

Um, I'm not sure if you're taking requests but I really love you're writing so I'm gonna try my luck

Could you please do a Medusa!Reader with Jiaoqiu? I've had this idea swirling around for a while.

A/n: I remember seeing those Medusa x her blind lover and I love the idea sm it's so bittersweet but can be fluffy aaaa

Contents: Jiaoqiu x Reader, angst, a bit of comfort, spoilers for the 2.5 quest!

The morning came damp and misty on the Xianzhou Yaoqing. Clouds hung heavy and grey overhead while people huddled away in their homes and offices, and shops. Gazing around it was hard to tell colors apart, everything looked gray. 

Your night was sleepless, and for the few minutes your eyes closed it was also dreamless, pebbled with touches of reality, the roughness of your blankets and the way it wouldn’t let you rest lest you left home altogether in search of that small bit of solace. You’d scarcely call it solace, but you knew a part of you would be called nonetheless, in some way. For once, you were the visitor and not the visited. And your time was limited.

Jiaoqiu opened the door, his eyes empty as they stared right through you and his ears were almost animated in their movement, rotating and flicking at each snap the snakes in your hair made, every little shuffle and whisper. He was still in his bedwear, hair slightly disheveled.

“Jiaoqiu..?” you whispered his name so cautiously, as if uttering it would break him and he responds with the softness of his smile upon recognizing your voice. His ears lightly fall, fluffy and pointed at you, shoulders slumping down in relief. 

“Ah.. it is you. It’s been quite a long time, although it feels even longer than that I confess..” he speaks so casually, stepping aside, shuffling over his own tail and inviting you in. Once inside you see the clean interior. There are no items on the floor, no low hanging plants and herbs like Jiaoqiu once described his home like. It was orderly, clean, spacious, made for him to remember and be safe in without worry. As much as it was a relief, it brought a pain to your chest, the view of his home solidifying the fate he encountered on the Luofu.

You slid up before him after the door clicked shut, your warm palms finding the paleness of his cheeks and cupping him close, tenderly. You search his eyes but find nothing, and his lashes soon flutter shut as he realizes your doings. Your hands don’t leave his skin, but his own hands find their place over your wrists, stroking gently to soothe you. You never touched him before, and he never gazed upon your face. The memory of your first encounter was a distant wisp of a memory he struggled to fiercely hold on, even as exhausted as he is. “You worry for me, my dear? I do not doubt the news… has reached you already..”

You nod in the moment, looking on at him in longing and you have to remind yourself that he was not lost. He was alive and whole, but more broken than the time you saw him off. 

“I have worried and I still worry.. what have they done to you, Jiaoqiu?” 

Jiaoqiu can’t help but frown at the tone of your voice, it hurts just to hear it, his heart twists and his hold on your wrists tightens. “Nothing I cannot deal with, (Y/n).. Please, do not scare yourself into sleeplessness. If it is of any comfort, General Feixiao has already vowed to find someone to heal my eyes.. Do not fret” he tells you but it is almost as if you do not hear him. His ears twitch at the soft sound of a hitched breath, he feels your thumb rolling across his cheek, under his eyes and your snakes hiss softly. 

He knew the chances of his eyes actually being healed were minimal, yet he wished not to bring you any more fright. It was odd to see you so fearful, worried, but no less saddening. He brought you happiness with his flowery poems and cryptic talks and you brought him joyful surprises with the bluntness of your speech. It was your large garden you usually met at, under the stone carved statue of a winding coral, pebbled with stone birds on every other branch. You’d sit at the base of the statue, back pressed against the stone, and he’d sit on the other corner of the same, never being able to gaze onto your face, but he remembers holding your hand. He never imagined such a romance would blossom from those interactions, yet it did.

He extends his hand forward, slowly moving it towards you until he feels the many little heads of small snakes bumping into his fingers and knuckles. He lets out a little chuckle, letting his hand linger and letting the curious snakes explore his skin as well. “Would you look at that.. they’re kissing me, are they?” He can feel the little licks of their thin tongues, even the snakes are gentle with him, being much more fragile than him. He feels half of the man that he once was, ashamed but he brings himself to smile nonetheless. Perhaps it was his turn to be soft and taken care of, however redundant that seemed to him. 

You scoff, the light shaking of your head pulling the snakes along with you, who in turn let out a dissatisfied hiss. 

“I should have been there..” you say, bringing his head closer down to kiss his forehead. He looks even prettier than you imagined him to be. You don’t expect him to reach for your cheek next though, it startles you but you melt into his touch.

“No. Your place is here, where it is safe” he says, resolute and firm in his words, tone suddenly washed clean from any drowsiness of sleep. “What has happened was unfortunate, yet necessary, I fear.. And were I to go back, I would have done the same.. Don’t worry about me. I can still think of poems for you, even if I can no longer see them or write them..” Your skin is warm and damp, he feels it, you have been crying. It worries him more. He presses his other hand to your cheek, bringing you closer until your foreheads pressed together, nuzzling into your warmth. The snakes in your hair seem to be in need of comfort as well with the way the slither closer, tickling his ears and cheeks with their little tongues and noses. 

“I am here. And so are you. And Hoolay is no more.. That’s all that matters now.”

You don’t respond, his words aren’t too comforting, however true they are, so you choose to pepper his cheeks and nose and forehead with countless kisses you couldn’t give him before.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 2.5

summary: you bump into Miles at the bodega. whoops.

wc: 900+

warnings: implied food insecurity, wasted sandwich </3

prev next

…Or so you thought.

Standing right in front of you in the crowded bodega ordering a beef patty was none other than Mr. Morales himself, drowning in a huge black puffer jacket. As soon as he finished, he stood off to the side, eyes glued to the floor and shifting from one foot to the other.

“What you want, miss?” The man at the counter broke you out of your reverie, looking impatient.

“Sorry, just a BLT, please,” you called out over the din of music and loud conversation. The man nodded, yelling out your order to two other men standing over a hot stove beside him. 

You moved to the side, near the snack aisle where Miles was standing. His eyes seemed to remain on the ground, so you sneak glances at the side of his face, starting from his ears. They were pierced, but currently barren. You move up to his cheek, where a stray lash has fallen. The boy's lashes were just long enough to brush it. They fluttered as his pupil darted to the side, and you realized that you were making eye contact.

"Whoah, can I get my face back?"

Miles had caught you just before your eyes could flicker away. He had that same ‘the sky is blue’ look that he gave you on the first day you were seated together. You quickly turned away without a word, opting to examine the snacks lining the rack behind you.

“No ‘hello’?”

You spun around, bag of Takis in-hand.

“What?”

“You just gon’ stare into my skull and not even say ‘hello’?”

You scoffed at the boy’s sudden interest in etiquette.

“Fine, hi.”

One of the cooks called out both of your orders, sliding them across the counter wrapped in aluminum foil as the two of you went up to the front.

“Bye.”

Miles grabbed his food first before weaving through the crowd towards the exit.

That is, until you try to squeeze out of the door before him. Your face plants into the plush material of his jacket before you stumble onto the cracked sidewalk outside, your poor sandwich open on the ground before you could even take a bite.

Groaning, you hear a few ‘Ohhh’s behind you as you squat to pick the two halves up to throw them out. This was supposed to be your dinner.

Miles watches you toss them into a nearby trash can, and makes a decision.

“Yo,” he waved you over. His face looked like it was holding onto a laugh, and you rolled your eyes.

“Now is really not the time, Morales.”

“So I guess you not tryna eat, then?”

You paused, and looked at the boy skeptically. He didn’t seem like the type to be above making you eat things off the floor. As if you had communicated with him telepathically, Miles shrugs his shoulders and nods.

“That’s fair,” he says to himself. 

Your eyebrows raise in surprise when he makes long strides over to you instead. He carefully opens up the aluminum to reveal the golden pastry inside, and you watch him carefully split it in half with his fingers before offering the piece. You look up at Miles, then the patty, then back up at Miles. His expression softened into a knowing look.

“I’m not gonna ask for no money back, if that’s what’s on your mind.”

Finally, you take it. It was either this, or Takis and sleep for dinner.

 “Thanks.”

The sky had taken on a deep blue shade, and worry crept onto your features as the street lights began to flicker on.

“I gotta walk home,” you said flatly. “See you tomorrow–”

“By yourself?”

Even as it got dark, you could make out the deep frown on Miles’ face.

“It’s not that far, relax.”

“How far?”

Your tongue pushed against the inside of your cheek before you muttered, “Three blocks…”

Miles stuck his hands in his pockets. “Look, ion like yo’ ass, but I can’t have you walking around here by yourself in the dark. Lemme walk you two blocks,” he put two fingers for emphasis, “at least.”

You tilted your head at him, but agreed. 

“Slow down,” you complained as you struggled to keep up with the long-legged boy. The both of you had been walking for barely twenty minutes, but your feet were already starting to hurt from having to jog up to him.

“Walk faster,” Miles laughed. 

Silence settled in between you as the streets got quieter, save for the bustling of traffic in the distance.

“Is it true what people say about you?” you ask, suddenly breaking it.

“Be more specific.”

“Like, are you in a gang? You don’t gotta tell me which. And how the hell you flunk outta school on purpose? Do you really do graffiti-”

“First of all, I’m not in no fuckin’ gang,” Miles had stopped walking abruptly. “You see any tats on me?”

“You’re wearing a coat.”

You hear Miles suck his teeth, and snicker.

“Well, I don’t have one. My momma would put me in the dirt if I did,”

He resumed his speed-walking, and you break into another light jog to stay next to him. “The other two are true, though.”

“Why?” you ask, a little out of breath.

“Do you know how to use complete sentences?”

“Why’d you flunk on purpose? Graffiti, I can understand. That, I can't.”

Miles was silent for a few moments, and you considered retracting the question before he finally replied.

“Visions…wasn’t really for me.”

You want to press further, piece together how a kid with a strict mother and a knack for advanced calculus could just…decide that school ‘wasn’t for him’. But the way he mumbled his answer told you he wouldn’t divulge any more, and your house was just up ahead. You’d walked all three blocks.

“This is me,” you say as you slow your pace. “Thanks again.”

“Yup, g’night,” Miles calls behind him, already strolling in the opposite direction.

-

Whew, okay! I hope y’all enjoy this one even though it’s technically not a full chapter. Now I’ll ACTUALLY give myself a week to work on the next one lmao. As always, feel free to leave any reactions, questions, or comments in replies/tags/my asks! thx for reading <3

[kathlare]

whispers in the dark

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando sneaks into Amelie’s room late at night, seeking closeness after a long period of separation.

Wordcount: 2.5 k

Warnings: smut

full masterlist // request over here!

October 3rd, 2020 - London, United Kingdom

The house was quiet, a soft, rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway the only sound. Lando crept up the stairs, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He’d waited until he was sure everyone was asleep, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the window illuminating his path. He reached Amelie’s door, pausing to listen. Nothing. He turned the handle, pushing the door open slowly, careful not to make a sound.

Amelie was asleep, curled up beneath the covers, her hair spread across the pillow like a dark halo. The soft moonlight illuminated her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheek, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She looked peaceful, serene, and utterly beautiful.

Lando’s heart ached with a sudden wave of longing. He missed her. He’d the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her touch. He’d missed everything about her.

He slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He walked towards the bed, his footsteps silent on the carpet. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep, his gaze lingering on her face.

He reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. Her skin was soft, warm beneath his touch. He hesitated for a moment, then carefully slid beneath the covers, lying down beside her.

He turned onto his side, facing her, his gaze tracing the delicate curve of her lips. He reached out, his arm sliding around her waist, pulling her closer.

Amelie stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked, her gaze focusing on Lando’s face. A soft smile spread across her lips. —Lando,— she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

—Hey,— he murmured, his voice soft. —Missed you.—

She snuggled closer, her head resting on his chest. —Missed you too,— she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

They lay there in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft rhythm of their breathing. The silence was comfortable, filled with unspoken words, with a longing that had been building for weeks.

—Happy belated birthday,— he whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead.

—Thank you,— she murmured, her voice soft. —It was… different without you.—

He tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer. —I’m sorry I missed it,— he said, his voice sincere. —I wanted to be here.—

—I know,— she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his chest. —It’s okay.—

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a silent question. —Is it?—

She nodded, her gaze locking with his. —Yeah,— she whispered. —Just… don’t let it happen again.—

He smiled, a soft, tender smile that reached his eyes. —I won’t,— he promised, his voice barely a whisper.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss was soft, gentle, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Amelie’s arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. The kiss grew more intense, more passionate, a desperate expression of the longing they had both been feeling.

Lando’s hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her waist, her hips, her back. Amelie’s fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it off, her eyes never leaving his.

They broke apart, their breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Lando looked at her, his eyes dark with desire. —I have another part of your birthday present,— he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Amelie’s eyes widened, a flicker of curiosity in their depths. —Oh yeah?— she murmured, her voice playful. —What is it?—

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. —Something I’ve been wanting to do for a while,— he whispered, his hand sliding beneath the covers, tracing the curve of her hip.

Amelie’s breath hitched, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. —Lando,— she breathed, her voice barely audible.

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a silent question. —Is that a yes?—

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. —Yes,— she whispered, her voice thick with desire.

He leaned down, kissing her softly on the lips, his hand moving lower, tracing the delicate folds of her femininity. He hesitated for a moment, his fingers hovering over her, his heart pounding in his chest. He was nervous, unsure, but he wanted to give her pleasure, to make her feel good.

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a silent question. —Are you sure?—

She nodded, her eyes filled with trust. —Yes,— she whispered, her voice firm.

He took a deep breath, his fingers sliding inside her. She gasped, her body tensing, her eyes widening. He paused, his gaze locking with hers, searching for any sign of discomfort.

—Am I hurting you?— he asked, his voice soft.

She shook her head, her eyes filled with desire. —No,— she whispered, her voice hoarse. —It feels… good.—

He exhaled, a wave of relief washing over him. He moved his fingers slowly, gently, exploring her, learning her body, her reactions. Amelie’s breath hitched, her hips bucking against his touch. She moaned softly, her fingers digging into his back, urging him on.

He watched her, his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of desire and tenderness swirling within him. He’d never done this before, never touched someone so intimately, so tenderly. He was nervous, unsure, but Amelie’s soft moans, her eager movements, guided him, reassured him.

—Tell me what you like,— he whispered, his voice hoarse, his fingers moving faster, mimicking the rhythm of their earlier kisses.

Amelie’s eyes fluttered closed, her body arching beneath his touch. —Yes,— she breathed, her voice a soft moan. —There… just like that.—

He followed her instructions, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, teasing her, bringing her closer to the edge. He watched her, his eyes dark with desire, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to give her everything, to make her feel every ounce of pleasure he could give.

Amelie’s moans grew louder, her body trembling, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She was so close, teetering on the edge, her body begging for release.

—Lando,— she whispered, her voice a plea, her fingers digging into his back.

He increased his pace, his fingers moving faster, harder, bringing her closer to the peak. He watched her, his eyes filled with a raw, primal desire, his heart pounding in his chest.

Amelie’s body shuddered, a wave of pleasure washing over her. She cried out, her voice a soft, broken moan, her body arching beneath his touch.

He continued his ministrations, his fingers moving in slow, gentle circles, soothing her, bringing her back down from the peak. He watched her, his eyes filled with tenderness, his heart overflowing with love.

Amelie’s breath slowed, her body relaxing beneath his touch. She opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his. A soft smile spread across her lips. —That was… amazing,— she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Lando smiled back, his heart swelling with pride. —You liked it?— he asked, his voice soft.

She nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude. —Yeah,— she whispered. —Thank you.—

He leaned down, kissing her softly on the lips. —You’re welcome,— he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. —Anything for you.—

They lay there in silence for a moment, holding each other close, the afterglow of their shared intimacy filling the room. Amelie’s head rested on his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his skin.

—You were nervous,— she murmured, her voice soft.

Lando chuckled, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink. —A little,— he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. —It was my first time… you know… like that.—

Amelie smiled, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. —You did great,— she whispered, her voice sincere. —Better than great.—

He grinned, his heart swelling with pride. —Really?—

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with amusement. —Really,— she confirmed, her voice playful. —Though, I might be biased.—

He chuckled, pulling her closer. —I’ll take it,— he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair.

They lay there in silence for a while, the soft rhythm of their breathing filling the room. The silence was comfortable, filled with unspoken words, with a sense of intimacy that transcended their physical connection.

—I missed you,— Amelie whispered, her voice soft, her fingers tracing the lines of his chest.

—I missed you too,— Lando murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead. —More than you know.—

They held each other close, their bodies intertwined, their hearts beating in unison. The world outside their room faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the moment, surrendering to the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

-------------

-------------

The first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, casting a golden glow across the wooden beams of the ceiling. Amelie stirred, blinking her eyes open, her body instantly curling closer to the warmth beside her. Lando lay on his back, one arm thrown behind his head, the other wrapped snugly around her waist. His chest rose and fell in slow rhythm, his lips parted slightly in sleep.

She smiled.

She pressed a soft kiss to his bare shoulder, just above the delicate freckle she always teased him about. Lando stirred, a sleepy groan slipping past his lips before his eyes fluttered open.

—Hi,— she whispered.

He grinned, slow and lazy, like the sun outside. —Hi.—

They stared at each other for a beat, and then he pulled her in, catching her lips in a kiss that was soft and warm and lingering. One became two. Then three. Then...

—You’re insatiable,— she mumbled against his lips.

—You taste like strawberries,— he murmured, brushing his nose against hers. —I’m starving.—

—You’re ridiculous.—

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, the blanket slipping down to reveal the muscles of his stomach. —You like it.—

She arched a brow. —Maybe.—

He kissed her again, deeper this time, his hand sliding up her back, tangling in her messy hair. Their legs tangled, bare skin brushing under the covers, heartbeats speeding up. Amelie giggled softly, breaking the kiss. —We’re gonna get caught.—

Lando leaned in, his voice a low whisper against her lips. —Then let’s be quick.—

—Lando!— she hissed through a laugh, pushing at his chest half-heartedly. He caught her wrists, grinning like a smug little devil, and kissed her again just to shut her up.

She didn’t complain.

The kisses turned slower, heavier. His hand slipped beneath the blanket, warm against her waist, and her breath caught when he brushed his thumb just under the band of her underwear. She arched into him, her body already aching from the night before, her skin tingling wherever he touched her. He buried his face in her neck, mouthing at the soft skin there.

—Still part of your birthday present,— he whispered against her collarbone. —I’m just being thorough.—

Amelie giggled, her fingers threading through his curls, tugging lightly. —You’re going to get us murdered.—

—Worth it.— He moved down slightly, kissing the curve of her shoulder. —Besides, everyone’s asleep.—

And that’s when it happened.

Knock knock knock.

They both froze.

Another knock, louder this time, followed by the unmistakable voice of her brother.

—Ames? You awake?—

Her blood turned to ice. Lando’s eyes widened in pure panic.

—Shit!— she whispered, bolting upright in bed, yanking the blanket to her chest. —It’s Callum.—

—No shit!— Lando whisper-yelled, already scrambling off the bed, grabbing his boxers with one hand and shoving his legs into them. —What do I do? Where do I go?!—

—Under the bed!— she hissed, leaping out of bed and throwing on the closest pair of shorts she could find. —Go! Now!—

Lando dropped flat like a corpse and rolled beneath the bed just as another knock came.

—Amelie?— Callum’s voice sounded suspicious now. —You in there? Why’s the door locked?—

Amelie smoothed down her hair, praying to whatever higher power was listening that she didn’t look like she’d just been very thoroughly kissed, then opened the door just a crack, her body blocking most of the room.

—Morning,— she said, voice way too high.

Callum squinted at her. —Why’s your door locked? You never lock your door.—

—I was… cold?— she offered weakly, then immediately regretted it. Cold? Seriously?

Callum peered over her shoulder. —Is someone in there?—

—No!— she said way too fast. —Why would someone be in there? You’re weird.—

Callum narrowed his eyes. He definitely didn’t buy it. Before he could move past her, she reached out, grabbed his arm, and turned him around. —C’mon, let’s go downstairs. Gran’s probably making coffee.—

—You’re acting really weird,— Callum muttered, letting her drag him along the hall. —You smell like cologne. That’s not yours.—

—Shut up, Callum.—

She slammed the door behind her and bolted down the stairs with him, heart pounding so hard she could barely hear over it.

Upstairs, Lando lay flat beneath the bed, his heart doing a full Grand Prix. He waited—ten seconds, fifteen, twenty—then wriggled out, breathless and still half-naked.

—Oh my God,— he whispered to himself, dragging his shirt over his head, hopping into his jeans one leg at a time. He grabbed his socks from where they’d flown across the room last night, shoved his shoes on without tying them, and padded silently to the window.

The tree outside rustled gently in the breeze.

—You’ve got to be kidding me.—

He climbed up onto the windowsill, looked down at the not-so-sturdy-looking branch just within reach, and muttered, —Fuck it.—

With a grunt and a prayer, he launched himself into the tree, catching the branch with a loud crack of wood. It held.

Barely.

He scrambled down, landing with a thud in the bushes below just as the back door to the kitchen swung open. Lando ducked behind the hedge, heart still thundering in his chest, watching as Julie stepped out in her robe to hang laundry.

He crouched like a soldier in a war zone, twigs in his hair, grass stains on his knees, and a stupid grin on his face.

He’d almost been caught.

But holy hell, it had been worth it.

[pinkteethmarks]

(2.5) THE TIME HE STAYED IN; OLIVER AIKU

0.7k words

2 OF “EASY” - M.LIST - 3 OF “EASY”

the morning glow seeped in through the peaks of the curtains, the soft breeze flowing in through the window aired out the smell of sweat and sex that coated the air thickly from last night.

soft snores escaped from your lips, harmonising with the chirps from the birds outside.

the sharp rings from his phone rung, he had woken before his alarm - per usual.

he groggily turned his phone alarm off, turning back to face your squished cute face against the pillow, a smile slowly grew on his face.

sadly, he needed to go to practice, at least, that was what his brain was telling him.

but it was like his heart and soul was stuck to the bed, his eyes glued onto your face and his fingers buzzed with excitement as he remembered that you were his, his to hold, touch, explore and have.

soon, you began to awaken yourself. you were used to waking up early due to your workouts being early in the morning.

you opened your eyes and rubbed them while your stretched, your eyes roaming around until they found him right next to you, just like he always would be.

“morning baby.” you smiled, your raspy morning voice sounding like a symphony to him.

“morning baby.” oliver repeated, smiling along with you as his arms started to pull you closer to his chest.

you giggled in response, letting him drag into his hold because that was where you felt safest, with his arms around you and his voice, balming and sweet and dipped in honey whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“need to get up soon, i’ve got practice.” oliver had told you, knowing you hated when he left.

“no you don’t.” you groaned into his chest, causing oliver to chuckle softly.

“sadly, i do.” oliver laughed.

“come on, stay in today. i’ll make your favourite, we can put on that horrible movie we started yesterday night and we can hang out together all day.” you persuaded, pulling yourself out of his hold momentarily to looking into his eyes.

his eyes were enchanting, two different colours that pulled you into a trip. you felt high on happiness and drunk on love, the cross fade allowing you to feel like you were in an eternal heaven.

“you always tell me to stay in.” oliver argued back.

“and you never listen!” you huffed childishly.

“because i need to be the best, you know how that lost to blue lock was for us.” he sighed.

you looked at him as his face dropped and his smile faltered slightly. that loss had truly impacted his confidence, which he had a lot of.

“honey, just because they beat you, doesn’t take away from your own abilities. anyone knows that you’re a great player, things happen and sometimes they suck. doesn’t mean that you’re suddenly the bottom of the barrel.” you spoke out softly, your hand found a place in his hair as you gently scratched his scalp - his eyes fluttered and he started humming, he loved when you did that.

“you’re right.” he muttered. you had always said that he was an amazing player, he wanted to believe you so bad but everytime he remembers how they lost to a team of 16 to 18 year olds, it starts to feel embarrassed he even assumed he was even a average player.

however, you were always there to care for him. to brush his hair back, look into his eyes and tell him that you were his number one fan, that he was still one of the best and things happen.

oliver sometimes thought he must be annoying you with his insecure rants, he hated girls who would do that to him. but you never argued back, never got angry and never invalidated his feelings.

it’s felt so nice to be loved, too nice.

how was he supposed to let you go?

“maybe i’ll stay in today.” oliver sighed as your head scratches started to form into a head massage.

you cheered in response, pulling his face in and peppering his face with kisses. squealing ‘thank you’s in between, making his smile widen.

but his smile quickly faltered as he remembered, no matter how good the fantasy was, no matter how loved he felt, he had to let you go.

and it scared him how that thought had made him feel sick.

[jessicas-pi]

Comit to the bit? If you please

sorry this is like 2.5 months late ANNNYYWAY okay so I decided to write a "missing scene" based on the idea from this bit in chapter 1 about their stargazing 'dates'—

She gives Ezra an open invitation to crash in her room whenever they get back late, and when he offers to keep a pair of his sleepclothes in her room so he doesn’t have to borrow hers, she nods, and pretends that the thought of him keeping his things in her room doesn’t send her heart rattling away.

—my noticeable tendency towards writing nightmare-induced hurt/comfort scenes, the Secret Sketchbook Of Secrets running gag, and the fact that Hera has been a little bit Suspicious of them for a long time!

And it got really really long!

And I am not even a little bit sorry!

---

Ezra has been Sabine's best friend since about three months after he joined the crew.

That's not saying much, though. He had very, very little competition.

After they moved to a base full of people their age, and she got more friends, he started to fall down the list. He was her favorite crewmember, sure, and she spent most of her time with him, but if it came down to hanging out with him or hanging out with Jia or Chisica or Amika, she probably wouldn't have picked Ezra.

That's changed now.

Being his fake-girlfriend necessarily means they hang out more. They've taken to going on "stargazing dates," which are easy and don't take much planning. It's given them lots of time to talk, and it turns out, Sabine likes talking to him. Even when they don't talk about much at all.

One night, while they are staring up at the stars, he tells her about the constellations on Lothal. Another night, she describes her homeworld to him. Yet another night, he sings a song for her in a language she doesn't know—she asks what it is, and he says it's just a sappy dumb Lothalian folk song. But the melody is gentle and soothing, and though his voice is occasionally off-key, it's low and full in a way she wasn't expecting.

(She decides the tight flutter in her chest is because music has always had the tendency to stir her emotions.)

Regardless, Sabine is finding herself caught deeper and deeper in the strangely bewildering feeling of wanting to know Ezra more. Wanting to know him past the surface. Wanting to know his soul.

When it happens, it's not how she's expecting.

It happens in the early hours of the morning, after they've gone back to her room, and she's reverted the seating area under her upper bunk back into being the lower bunk, and they've gone through the slightly-less-awkward-each-time-they-do-it process of changing into pajamas in opposite corners of her room, and they've climbed into their separate bunks, and she turns out the light, and they both go to sleep. Sabine doesn't realize what it even is, at first, when she wakes up, blinking into the darkness, trying to figure out what roused her from the dreams she refuses to understand.

Then it comes back to her, what it was—a rasping, panicked sound from the bunk beneath her. It was half-sob and half-cry and all-fear.

Ezra.

Sabine is fully awake in an instant, kicking off her blanket and sitting up all the way.

"Ezra?" she asks. "You okay?"

"Yes," he whispers, from the bunk beneath.

Well, that settles it.

Sabine hops out of her bunk, landing softly on the cold durasteel floor. Fumbling in the darkness, she turns on the lights built into the lower bunk, on a dim setting.

He's half-sitting, crammed into the farthest corner, his knees curled up to his chest, huddled up like he's trying to take up as little space as possible. His face is dropped onto his knees and his fingers are clenched in his hair.

He startles as the sudden light, and one watery blue eye peeks out at her.

"You're a crappy liar," she tells him frankly.

"I'm fine," Ezra insists. "I just—need a minute. I—it's nothing."

"Good fake boyfriends don't lie to their fake girlfriends," she half-jokes, and climbs lightly onto the bunk, kneeling in front of him.

He turns his head away from her, hiding it back in his arms, and shudders out a sigh.

"Bad dream," he confesses.

She figured as much, and though she wants to know more, she doesn't want to push. "Do you... want to talk about it?"

Ezra hesitates long enough that she's about to change the subject to something lighthearted to cheer him up, but just before she can, he speaks.

"It was about Maul."

It's not a surprise. The Dathomir thing is fresh on both of their minds, she knows. So Sabine reaches out and gently pries his hands out of his own hair, holding them in both of hers and squeezing lightly.

"He's gone now," she tells him. "He's out of our lives, and he's never gonna bother you again."

She can see Ezra's face, but his eyes are still shut tight.

"I dreamed—he hurt you—you and Kanan and Hera and Zeb. I was so angry. And when I woke up, I—"

He falters, cringes, and goes on in a tiny whisper.

"I wanted the holocron. The Sith one."

Sabine says nothing. She just waits. His hands are hot and damp with sweat, and grip hers tightly as he keeps talking.

"I can't get rid of it," he whispers hoarsely. "It's like an itch in the back of my head, and I—"

He breaks off and goes nowhere, just sighs slowly.

Deliberately, Sabine pulls one of her hands away from his. He lets go, loosening his grip like he expects her to pull away entirely. Instead, she sits forward, reaching out and tousling her free hand into his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head.

Then she stops and sits back. He's looked up at is staring at her in confusion, and she blinks her eyes innocently and asks, "Did I get it, or was it more to the left?"

The dumb joke seems to shock him out of whatever state he was in, and he actually laughs aloud. She shifts over to sit beside him, her legs kicked out to the side, and throws one arm around him in a half-hug, tugging him against her side in a rough, friendly way. He laughs again, shaking his head and breaking into a reluctant smile.

"You know, Ezra, I think you're kind of amazing," she tells him softly, then frowns and pulls her arm away from him. "And... also kind of damp."

He winces and mumbles an apology, but Sabine dismisses that with a pat on his arm.

"Must have been some bad dream," she says, not expecting or receiving an answer. "Do you want to change into a different shirt? You can borrow one of mine."

"Oh. Yeah, that might be nice," Ezra says, flashing her a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"Don't sweat it," she says, and he groans at the terrible pun. Swiveling in place, she swings her legs out of the bunk and hops up, moving quickly so she doesn't have to stand on the cold durasteel floor with her bare feet for long. She picks out one of her sleep-shirts—the biggest one, because though they're close to the same size, he's definitely broader in the shoulders than she is—and closes her drawer, turning back around.

"Here, I think this one should fit youuuu..."

She trails off, frozen in place. He stares back at her, equally frozen, equally wide-eyed, and equally red in the face.

While her back was turned, he'd pulled off his sweat-damp shirt, and he hadn't given her a bit of warning before she turned around.

Sabine is glad that she has some semblance of a verbal filter, because he has completely made her brain stall, and she barely stops herself from blurting out "Chances I could get you to pose for some anatomy studies?"

"Sorry!" he rushes out, finally jolting out of his frozen state. "I didn't think—"

"Do you ever?" she interrupts with an eye-roll, tossing the shirt at him and turning away. "Give a girl some warning next time!"

"Sorry," he mumbles again, and she hears him tug it over his head. "Okay, I'm decent now."

She grumbles jokingly about the situation as she goes back over and takes a seat on the lower bunk again, but drops the subject quickly, eager to think about something else.

"Feeling any better?" she asks.

He shrugs. "A little."

"You don't want to go back to sleep now?"

"I don't know if I can."

"That's okay." Sabine pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on then, smiling at him. "We can just hang out, or whatever."

And they do. They hang out that whole night. They hang out, and they talk.

Little things, at first. Things that they've talked about before. And the things don't really get that much bigger, as the night wears on. In fact, they get littler.

They don't talk about their biggest traumas and their emotional scars. They talk about the smallest things in their worlds. She tells him about how she got kicked out of an art class when she was eight for headbutting her annoying classmates. He talks about how he had a stuffed Loth-cat toy that he used to carry around with him everywhere. Little details from their pasts. Little things now. Nothing big. Nothing important.

But maybe it is something important, because when he nods off and she climbs back up to her own bunk, she feels like she knows parts of him she never knew before. It almost scares her to know that now he knows new parts of her, too.

(Almost, but not quite, because she finds herself trusting him to hold her secrets as close as his own.)

It's because of this that Sabine wakes up feeling so happy, and she doesn't think anything can get her down. The fact that she and Ezra both overslept (and have a heck of a time sneaking him out of her room) and both end up eating breakfast with the others while still in their pajamas almost makes it better; it's almost like she was a normal girl who just had a sleepover with a friend.

Her buoyant mood lasts about half an hour, before Hera asks her for some help on the Ghost, pulls her aside, and—in the most concerned mom voice Sabine has ever heard from her—quietly tells Sabine that you know you can talk to me about anything going on, right?

"Yeah...?" Sabine says, utterly bewildered. "But—why? Nothing's going on."

Hera raises her eyebrow-marks at Sabine as if it should be obvious, but Sabine is just lost.

Finally, Hera crosses her arms.

"If nothing's going on, then how come I saw Ezra sneaking out of your room this morning?"

"Oh! That! I can expl—"

"And wearing your shirt?"

Sabine freezes, mouth open mid-word.

Think fast, think fast, think fast!

"Well—we were—he—he was—"

~~~

Sabine picks up her pace as she passes Ezra in the hallway, clearly trying to avoid eye contact and get past him as fast as possible.

Too bad for her, because he's just spent forty minutes searching the base for her to demand explanations, and he's not letting this chance go.

He snags her by the arm and whirls her around to face him, a little too hard. She bumps into his chest, and they both take a step back on instinct.

"Sabine—"

"I panicked!" she blurts out, not even giving him a chance to ask questions. "Hera saw you sneaking out this morning and I had to come up with some reason for you to be there—"

Ezra cuts her off frantically. He doesn't know how Zeb caught wind of what Sabine told Hera, but that purple menace has been having a field day with this information, and Ezra is at his limit right now. He's supposed to be the one in this fake relationship saying the dumb things, not her!

"And the best you could do—" he hisses, gesturing in exasperated mortification, "—was that I'm "posing for anatomy studies"?!"

Sabine flattens her mouth into a grim line of repressed embarrassment.

"I don't wanna talk about it," she says flatly.

[loutnoot]

Forbidden Lovers

✦ Paring: Donald Trump x Elon Musk

✦ Word Count: ~900 words

✦ Summary: After being inaugurated as the 47th POTUS, Donald Trump finds himself alone in the Oval Office with his forbidden lover, Elon Musk.

✦ Wanings: 18+ satire, implied sex, misogynistic topics, getting off on the idea of persecuting women, false encounters, not proofread/edited (I had a vision)

✦THIS IS A JOKE!!! All actions and encounters in this post are FICTIONAL!! Although Donald Trump and Elon Musk are REAL PEOPLE, I AM NOT AT ALL associated with EITHER OF THEM!!! I would also like to note that this is NOT A FANFICTION!! It is fiction, but I am not a little fanboy over Elon Musk and/or Donald Trump and their weird ass gay-coded relationship!! Thx <3

Trump's POV:

As I walked through the White House, a feeling of nostalgia struck me. I found myself in the same place I was just four years ago, today. Back then, I was full of so much hope. . .so much certainty. . .and now here I was, more scared and uncertain than I have ever been.

I held my wife's hand just moments ago, but my nerves were still ablaze. Melania has been very bitter towards me. Her period has lasted six years three months and ten days now since she refuses to have sex with me.

"Hey, Donald." My thoughts were interrupted by Elon as he spotted me down the hallway.

"Elon. . .please, join me." I welcomed him into the Oval Office, locking the door behind us.

There was a moment of silence as we looked into each other's eyes. The tension in the air grew thick and I feared Elon could hear my thoughts. With the way he stared at me; it almost seemed he could.

"Are you doing okay, Donnie?"

My heart fluttered. Every time he used that nickname, I'd fold. The first time he used it was when he was begging me to allow him to lead my new Department of Government Efficiency. I just can't say no to that face.

"I'm scared, Elon. It was a miracle that I got the majority electoral votes. I just don't understand why. . .I don't deserve this." I sighed, my hands in my pockets and my head down.

"Donald, remember that only 150 out of the 538 electoral votes are that of women." Elon stated. It made total sense. "Those women who voted for Harris only had a small dent in the men who voted for me." I stated. . .but paused. "What about the citizens? Women outnumber men by 2.5 million."

Elon laughed, walking closer to me. "Don't you know? Electoral votes are all that matter, which is why you and I put more men as representatives than women. So that men always win."

Of course. "Oh, Elon. You're always able to calm my suspicions on voter fraud. I just wish that. . ." He was now inches away from me. I could hear his breath and see the wrinkles on his face. My eyes flickered down to his lips. I could feel my palms grow sweaty.

"What are we going to do? I have concepts of a plan." I whispered. There was no need to be any louder with how close he was to me.

Elon brought his right hand to my left cheek. My breath hitched at the contact. I could feel my cheeks flush. "We'll figure it out. Or we can hire someone else to figure it out and then blame them when things go wrong."

I smiled, leaning into his touch. "You always know what to say." I confessed.

"That's why we are best friends. So much money we hold, that only we can understand each other." Elon whispered, batting his eyelashes at me.

For a few seconds, we stared at each other. An urge grew within me, I only wished that he felt the same. Realization came upon me, and I pushed myself away.

"Oh, this is wrong! I already declared that a relationship was between a man and a woman! Any other same sex encounters are immoral. . .ungodly." I sighed in disappointment.

"Donnie. . ." Elon came up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Remember New Year's Eve?" I could feel my face grow hot.

"How could I forget?" I muttered. "That was the best experience I have ever had."

"When we kissed, Donnie. . .it meant something to me. How many times do I have to remind you of our hypocrisy and the fact that we can get away with anything because we're white married man? There's nothing wrong with watching another man masturbate." His words made me smile in realization. The memories of that night flooded my mind, causing me to let out a breathy laugh.

"Donald. . .please. Know that everything will be okay. We can do this. . . together." Elon grabbed my hands and turned me to face him, bringing a hand to his lips and placing a kiss upon my knuckles.

I felt my heart skip a beat as I paused to take in his words. "You're right. So many accusations on my head and yet. . .I get away with it, because I'm rich, white, and married. I wish I could be with you forever." I confessed.

"Don't be gay, Donald." Elon said.

"Don't worry. . ." I paused, leaning closer to him. "I have socks on." I said before placing my lips to his in a totally straight and passionate kiss. One that could only be shared between too unhappily married men.

As we pulled apart, there was a loud knock on the door.

"President Trump! We must begin signing these executive orders." I heard my Vice President, Vance, call from behind the doors. Vance's voice broke me out of my fantasy and forced Elon and I to break apart.

"Of course, Vice President Vance. I will be right out."

Elon and I shared a final look before I unlocked the door and motioned him out. We shared a longing look as he left the Oval Office.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Donnie." Elon said, smiling and waving goodbye.

"Goodbye."

----------------

AGAIN!!!! THIS IS A JOKE!!! All actions and encounters in this post are FICTIONAL!! Although Donald Trump and Elon Musk are REAL PEOPLE, I AM NOT AT ALL associated with EITHER OF THEM!!! I would also like to note that this is NOT A FANFICTION!! It is fiction, but I am not a little fanboy over Elon Musk and/or Donald Trump and their weird ass gay-coded relationship!! Thx <3

[angelpregdreams]

super short maggie the midwife 2.5

part 1 + 2

(added a maggie the midwife tag for easy finding on my blog)

content; unprotected sex, impregnation, slight breeding kink, quickie

“Can I…?” Quinn asked, his hand hovering over Maggie's waist, which she nodded to quickly. Her nod was all he needed, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his core into hers. His lips met hers eagerly, then sloppily, as his hands ran over her back and reached down to cup her full ass.

Maggie gasped as he lifted her up, her dress riding up to allow her to wrap her legs around his waist as they remained locked in a passion filled kiss. There was no denying his arousal, his massive cock, erect and bulging in his trousers, nestled next to Maggie's leaking cunt. He gave her a look as he pulled away from the kiss, slightly surprised at her lack of underwear but not stopping.

“Should we…” He began to ask, glancing in the direction of where his brother’s wife slept with her newborn twins, “...I-”

“Fuck me here, quick and quiet,” Maggie demanded quietly. She grabbed his chin in her hands and pulled him back in for a kiss, grinding her soaked pussy over his bulging erection. Dutifully, he obliged, moaning quietly into the kiss and bringing her over to the armchair Cece was in when they arrived. The puddle of fluid from her waters still shimmering on the floor beneath it. Quinn sat in the chair, never letting go of Maggie and adjusted so she straddled his hips. Hiking up her dress at the same time he was pulling his cock free, Maggie felt her body pulse with excitement, desperate now to feel the man's cock inside her.

And he did not disappoint, when his cock sprung free, Maggie's eyes widened at the size of it before giving him a wide grin. “...you surprise me, Ser Quinn.”

“Shush,” he urged, desperately pulling her mouth back to his in a sloppy kiss. His hands slid over her thighs and under her dress, earning him a gasp from Maggie, but also allowed him to grip her hips and grind her weeping womanhood over his leaking member. “Oh, I need to be in you…fuck, I need to fill you up.”

“Do it,” she breathed, pulling away from him. She grinded her core against his, coaxing a low moan from his lips. One of Quinn’s hands slid down to her heat, her folds slick with want and warm under his fingertips. Maggie inhaled sharply, his hand rubbing and parting her folds to gather some of her slick, stroking his cock with her juices once before jutting his hips upward into her cunt. “Oh, yes!”

Her voice was a touch too loud and she bit her lip in response, shame filling her as she thought about how unprofessional this was. Quinn grabbed her hips in his hands, as if sensing her sudden pause, and pulled her up then down on his cock without allowing her to adjust. Maggie couldn’t find herself to care, the way he filled her up so fully…it had been so long since she had been speared like this and she was intending not to forget it. Her arms came up and wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close as he increased their pace, forcing her tight cunt to cling to his massive cock with every movement. He grunted quietly in her ear, his grip on her never relenting as if he couldn’t dream of letting her go.

Quinn’s lips sucked on her neck softly before licking at the shell of her ear, whispering, “I’m going to cum in you.”

Maggie’s body fluttered at his words, making her moan softly as he bucked up his hips to meet hers with every word. Quinn chuckled against her neck, bouncing her on his cock at an unrelenting pace, the two of them both eager to seek their mutual end. Urged on by her squeezing cunt, he moaned quietly against her neck. Her body shook as she tried to help him by bringing her hips hard over his own, their flesh meeting with vulgar noises. Neither of them seemed to care.

Especially when Quinn reached up and tugged the front laces on her dress apart, shoving the fabric out of the way, before leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. His teeth grazed the bud, causing Maggie to whimper and bite her tongue as she trembled. Her body tensed, teasing the edge of her climax until Quinn circled his lips around her nipple and sucked, causing her to reach her peak, while he was buried to the hilt in her weeping cunt.

Under her, Quinn groaned against her breast, his hands still gripping her tightly to him. He bucked his hips up into her once, then twice, and on the third time stilled deep inside of her, warmth filling her core. His cum spilled into her, just as he promised, oozing into her eager womb. Quinn buried his head into the crook of her neck then, attempting to catch his breath, a stray hand rubbing the soft skin over her hip gently.

He appeared unwilling to move, his cock still twitching in her after several long seconds later. Quinn pressed a soft kiss against her neck, trailing up to her chin then her lips as they finally came back to themselves. Still impaled upon his cock, Maggie looked at him with a smile as she pulled far enough away to catch his eyes.

“We should…move…” Maggie said softly, but made no further move to get off of him. Quinn grinned and pulled her back to him for a long kiss, pulling her against him and rubbing their hips together.

“We should.” He mumbled when they paused for a breath, still grinning like a fool. “Perhaps somewhere a bit more comfortable?”

Maggie licked her lips and nodded eagerly, “come back to my cottage later. Make sure Cece is taken care of, then come to me.”

He kissed her again and mumbled his agreement, rubbing the skin over her hips as he reached around to lift her off of his now softened cock. They both made noises of disappointment when they parted, Maggie's fingers curling into his tunic when she sat up, feeling the sudden emptiness that accompanied the loss of him and the slow leak of his seed spilling out.

They awkwardly untangled themselves and returned to their feet. Quinn stuffing his cock back in his trousers and Maggie squeezing her thighs together, even as they got even more covered in slick and cum.

“Join me, when you're done.” Maggie said quietly, adjusting her dress so she looked somewhat appropriate to walk home. “Don't forget to write a letter to your brother, either, he's a father now.”

“I won't,” Quinn chuckled, his hand coming up to caress Maggie's cheek, still smiling at her, “I'll see you soon.”

“Yes, you will, Ser Quinn.”