#He insists on talking to me for a few seconds like every half hour when he has literally nothing to say

[notsoverymerry]

Boyfriend (j.yh x reader)

<jeong yunho x fem!reader>

summary: You can't believe you're dating Yunho. Others can't either.

genre/warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please use protection!), fluff, use of pet-names a/n: let me know literally anything about this :) word count ~3.6k

You were dating Jeong Yunho; you really were. 

You went on dates, held hands, kissed, and said the cheesiest, most sweetest, tooth-rotting things to each other. All the time. And yet, none of the boys had caught up. By some mysterious miracle or rather an ominous curse, guys and the staff have considered you two to be just really good friends. You could've screamed love proclamations at each other from mountaintops, and nobody would take that seriously. His habit of calling you his little bro, or some variation of that, as a pet name did not help in the slightest.

At first, it was funny. Just at the beginning of your relationship, when you intended to keep your fondness away from prying eyes and wanted to enjoy exploring each other in this new, intimate side of things, having people consider you pals was great. You can recall Seonghwa making a few remarks about how cute you would look together, but it was dismissed rather quickly. The first time it happened, you totally saw Yunho's ears go red, him stammering out something about friendships and trust and members making you uncomfortable. 

At the end of your third date, you were sure you wanted this man next to you for life. He took you to the aquarium. It was a cliché, but it's something you have always dreamed of. You love animals, love to learn new things, and you think you love Jeong Yunho. He looked dashing in just a pair of blue jeans and a white sweater; your heart definitely skipped a beat when he smiled, hands reaching to greet you in a short embrace. It skipped a beat again when you heard him laugh lightly at some joke you made. And again, when his hand brushed against yours as you walked to your destination. Stepping into a room with tiny fish specimens showcased in various tanks, blue lights now illuminated his frame and those round sparkling eyes. Your heart doesn't seem to work correctly. 

Few hours went flying. You took pictures. Half of them when he wasn't paying attention. You told him he looks like the prettiest starfish they have and didn't miss his cheeks darkening with blush even in the dim lights. Not too long had passed before you started to point out funky ones to each other, exclaiming, 'You!' and laughing. After a particularly accurate comparison of you to a dwarf puffer ('Dwarf puffers are aggressive, sensitive, and active' the sign read), he reached and intertwined your fingers, not a single hint of trying to hurt you with that juxtaposition, his eyes full of adoration, a huge smile on his face. You could have just kissed him.

He insisted on ice cream later in the evening. You were just heading out the shop when you bumped into Mingi. Faces red but happy, Yunho's arm hugging you to his side, a small bag of sweet treats in his hand. It took a second for Song Mingi to take the sight in. And another second for him to smile and greet you, to ask how's it going and where you're going to go.

''Oh, my girlfriend and I are just going to relax somewhere in the park nearby.''

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. Girlfriend. You can definitely get used to being called his girlfriend. And then it happened. Cue Mingi's cluelessness, or the fact that he's just tired from their hectic schedules. 

''Man, it's great that you can be so close with each other and aren't afraid someone will mistake you for a couple. If you could act a bit better, maybe you'd even get a discount sometime!'' With that, he was gone. 

There was a little tradition your small company liked to keep. Board games. 

Every once in a while, when everyone wasn't busy, you'd spend an evening playing, talking, lightly drinking, and overall just relaxing. Adult life could take a really boring turn, the one that only had 'road work ahead, and so should you' sign. Bills, taxes, colleagues being stressed and mean, and yada-yada. Idol life was probably even worse. 

There was some catching up due, and this Saturday night seemed just the perfect opportunity. The lot of you chose a game, lo-fi music was put on for background, and the living room area was cleaned so up to ten people could comfortably sit in a circle. Drinks were cold and ready to be handed out. 

You took a seat in between your beloved Yuyu and Yeosang, a dear friend of yours who got you in the group. You'd expect him to know your heart of all people. Although when you told him about your new boyfriend, all he did was laugh and say that was a good one. 

Bewilderment washed over you in a tidal wave. It showed up on your face, swimming behind your eyes and overflowing in a strangled sound from your lips. And you, Yeosang? With your confused and hurt whimper, the topic was brought to everyone's attention. 

''Did you guys know y/n likes Yunho?'' Maybe it was the alcohol, but you heard more laughter. 

''Oh? But y/n likes all of us, don't you?''

''Well, yes, but—'' you were not going to finish that sentence. He heard what he wanted.

''See?'' Wooyoung looked so smug; if your brain wasn't so busy being confused, you'd be infuriated. Right now you looked like there was a loading circle turning in your head. Hopefully you won't bluescreen. 

''Are you guys pulling my leg?''

''Are you? Seriously, you and Yunho.'' There came a playful nudge to your side. 

You wanted to protest, to ask your boyfriend to back you up, but turning to him, you saw his eyes creased by a smile. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to say that it's fine and they will catch up to it eventually. He knew it was going to take them a while. And with his hand lightly caressing your back, your anger dissipated, replaced by a warm feeling inside your chest. Was it always so hot in here?

''Just relax, little pal. I got you.''

A while has passed before you decided to be openly affectionate, at least around those closest to you. 

It was a day off for the both of you. You planned on going out, but upon seeing your boyfriend's tired eyes, you opted to offer a quiet night in. Weather seemed to agree with that, given that it started raining against the broadcast's best predictions. 

You were met with Hongjoong, who opened the door and let you in. When you entered their living room, you saw Yunho, still in sweatpants and a big shirt, holding a steaming mug. 

''Hey.'' He said, ''Isn't it my favorite little dude!''

''Hello, honey.''

The warmth in your voices could melt the arctic icebergs. You took a few moments just to look at each other, gentle smiles tugging at the corners of your mouths. 

''Oh, hey, bro! I'm also in the room, where's my sweet greeting?''

It was San, a pout already present on his sleepy face. 

''You'd get it when you have a girlfriend.''

The day was spent in the comfort of their couch, with soft cushions and comforters draped around. None of you cared for the cancelled plans, not really, when all you ever wanted was to be in each other's presence. That was enough. Several movies were watched, hot tea keeping the cozy atmosphere company. You were cuddled with Yunho, feeling warm and giddy. That's when Seonghwa made another comment about how cute the two of you were. 

''But I don't want to make you uncomfortable, y/n. Don't take this close to heart. We know there's nothing romantic going on.''

It was as though they were doing it on purpose.

''It's okay, Seonghwa; we are together. Like, I love him and all that.''

Your voice was steady, your face was serious, and yet…

''Of course you are,'' San almost scoffed. ''But that behavior is exactly why you can't get a date these days. People see Yunho and don't dare approach you.''

A light chuckle could be heard from the room; Yunho also couldn't contain his. The more blunt you were at stating your relationship status, the more oblivious band members became. 

''Little broski is saying she doesn't need a date. She has me. Right, darling?''

Yunho was being honest. You nod at him, darting your eyes back at your friends in hopes of seeing the realization there. Yet, his playful tone and charming smile did nothing to convince the others. It's not like you've been actively trying to make them believe you were an item. Though now it seemed to irritate you a bit. Was it really that hard to imagine you and Jeong Yunho together? Were you not good enough in their eyes? Or was it his habit of calling you bro? You never knew. 

''Why is it so hard for you to believe we're dating, though?''

You voiced your thoughts, needing to know the answer now.

''Y/n, love… You'd date a reputable scam artist before Yunho; we know that much. You'd probably even date Hongjoong first if-''

''I can hear that!''

That was the captain's answer from the kitchen.

''A reputable scam artist?''

That was your confused reply. What does that even mean?

''And what is so wrong with dating me? I'm handsome, I'm charming, and so, so funny! A real treat. I could also be a scam artist if I really wanted to.''

A strangled sound tore from your chest.

''See? That's a laugh.''

There was another. He was not at all interested in proving them wrong.

You couldn't believe your luck when you showed up at the dorms a week later and no one was there. 

Yunho had called you, asking you to come in, some mischevous spark laced in his tone. It turns out, the boys had work, and those who didn't decided on spending the day outside. There was undoubtedly a need for shopping for essential items, as well as just a bit of fresh air and relaxation for those workaholics. Well deserved. Yunho needed it too. So when he asked if you could just cuddle him a bit and maybe cook something easy later, you couldn't find it in yourself to deny this request.

His bed? Soft. His body? Warm. Hands? Big and strong and held you against him perfectly. You were happy. You basked in the feeling of his chest pressed against your back, like puzzle pieces, you thought. You traced the veins on his arms, switching to play with his fingers from time to time. This feels nice. This feels so right. How could his members not see this? You were practically made for each other. You decided to bring it up.

''Why do you think our friends don't take us seriously?''

He let out an amused hum, his breath fanning over your neck. 

''I dunno. Maybe they all want you, just can't take the fact I already hogged you for myself.''

He hugged you tighter. In all honesty, that was distracting. How could you think about other guys, about anything else, really, when your big and strong boyfriend held you so tenderly against himself? The thought of him wanting you and caring for you as much as you did for him should melt your heart. Instead, with the way his fingers played with your shirt, caressing your skin where it had rode up, it sent hot waves someplace else. Were you cruel enough to ruin this perfect cuddle session with your dirty thoughts? 

''You're here, love?'' His hand went up to cradle your face. 

Turning to him, you couldn't avoid looking at his lips. So pink and soft. You know just how nice they feel against yours. Your eyes had darkened already, the feelings you had for this man had your head all dizzy. Without much thinking, you moved forward, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. You felt his breath hitch. A tiny sound tried to escape his throat, but your mouth didn't let it. His hands moved to your waist again, holding you even closer.

You put your hands in his hair. You just couldn't resist massaging his scalp and tugging gently, soft locks slipping through your fingers. And god were you rewarded with another sound from him, right into your lips, chest reverberating against yours. He stopped kissing you; for a moment he just needed to look at your face. Rose hue on your cheeks and blown eyes — no doubt he looked the same. 

''I see,'' he chucled. Hands roaming your body, skimming your sides. ''You're so amazing. I can't get enough of you, my little bro.''

There it was again. The way he said it was ethereal. His voice so soft and perfectly low, his eyes dark and full of adoration. But it was the bro part that got your mind out of the gutter. Only for a moment, though.

''I want to make love to you so badly,'' you started. He sucked in a breath. His eyes fixated on your face, jumping over to your lips for a second. ''But please, stop with the bro thing. You can put that mouth to better use.''

''I'll be good,'' is his promise. 

With that, he leaned in to kiss you again. This time pressing into you harder, needier. You couldn't control yourself any longer, too. With a soft moan, he moved even closer, almost getting on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. And it feels, oh, so good. You bite on his lower lip carefully, anything to hear his beautiful sounds again. You let him take the lead, tongue gliding over yours. He moans at the taste. 

Tongue keeps rooling over yours; he lets his hands slide under your shirt. He kneads your breasts, then moves his hands over to grab at your hips and thighs, and back under your shirt again. You feel on fire. You want him to touch you everywhere at once; you want to touch him even more. You're the first to give in, reaching to help him take his t-shirt off. 

He's gorgeous. Hair a bit messy, lips glossy and red from the kiss. He pants a little, and you reach to glide your hand over his abs and chest, circling over his nipple. You can hear a tiny pleased sound leaving him, but it's not enough. He reattaches himself to you right away, mouth finding your neck. He kisses, bites, and licks at your most sensitive spots. You take him back gladly, hugging him close and moving your hips to meet his. He seems eager to do the same, another perfect sound leaves his lips. It's a groan, and it's right into your ear, and it makes your head spin. 

''God, you feel amazing.'' He breathes out, and you can't take it anymore. You want him, you need him with you, on you, in you. Your clothes get swiftly discarded, that eagerness earning you a quiet snicker. You don't care; your brain is in a fog, Yunho is the only thing on your mind.

''Please, touch me.'' you ask, settled in his sheets and looking up in his eyes, dark pools filled with lust to the brim. 

He obliges, positioning himself at your side. ''How do you want it, baby?'' He asks, but his hands are already on you. He groups your breasts once more, bringing his mouth to suck at your neck, moving down until he can lick your nipple. He plays with you as he pleases, kneading your skin and ghosting over the area where you want him the most. ''Please,'' you whine. 

''What? Isn't it good when I touch you here? Or maybe here?''

He moves his hand to massage your thighs so close to your hot core, playing with your inner thighs, pinching slightly. You start to buck your hips involuntarily. Oh, but then he moves it over your belly to your nipples again. You tug at his hands and whine again. With more and more whimpering coming from you, he surrenders. 

Long fingers find your sticky folds to roll through them. The sound you let out makes his dick twitch in his underwear. When he finally pays attention to your clit, you feel exstatic. You look at him, at his concentrated face as he plays with you. You're lost in this feeling, lost in him. His fingers enter you suddenly, and you try to say something, but no real words come out. All you can think of is how good he feels inside of you. Your fingers can never do what his long ones can. They strech you a bit, just enough to feel this sweet pressure and leave you wanting more. Just enough to reach that gummy spot there that makes you see stars behind your eyelids. 

''You look so good like this, fuck.'' He praises. His voice brings you back to reality. ''So fucked out already, and I barely even done anything.'' 

You want to protest, to say that you are not fucked out yet, but the way your walls clench around his fingers is a dead giveaway. You are losing your mind a little. Can he really blame you, though, when he's the one pressing on that spot inside of you, so, so well. You can't really say anything, the only sounds escaping are your moans. Yunho thinks your voice sounds like honey, so sweet and thick with arousal. He bucks his hips against you, breathing deeply.

You reach for his cock, still trapped in his sweats and boxers. Suddenly, the fabric is just so frustrating. He lets out an airy laugh at your feeble attempt at touching him, taking his fingers out. You mewl at sudden loss pathetically. 

''What's wrong, love? Do you miss me already?''

He leaves your side not even for a minute, but it feels like forever. With a teasing grin, he discards the rest of his clothing and finally climbs back to bed, now on top of you. It's great. He's big and pinning you down and pressing to you just right. 

You want him inside, so you try to shift a little, make it more comfortable for him to finally fuck you, but he doesn't budge. The look you're giving his way is comical. You're flushed and needy, and there's that throbber almost visible on your forehead again. Your boyfriend doesn't give you time to ask, diving into another heated kiss with you. Your moan is bordering on a sob when he opts to fuck your mouth with his tongue instead of fucking you like you desperately need him to. 

When at last he's lining his cock up with your slit, you think you're actually going to cry. He's so hard and so big, the stretch feels euphoric. Pleasure overtakes and your eyes flutter shut as he slowly bottoms out. 

''Keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby.'' 

His words come out in a mix of a moan and a growl. You swear you could come just listening to him, hand-free and all that. You open your eyes, and the sight is breathtaking. He moves inside of you, your walls feel hot and tight and like the most expensive velvet. You can see all of that in his eyes. He feels so good, and you're the one making him hiss and groan in pleasure, his mouth forming the perfect O's and stuttering muddled praises. God, you love him.

You can't keep thinking about it for much longer. The pace he's set becomes a bit faster and sloppier, and he reaches his hand in between your bodies to put pressure on your clit. With it comes his strangled warning, '' 'm close, honey.'' And you can feel it, too. His dick hits that spot in you just right, and with your clit stimulated, the familiar feeling is building in your stomach faster and faster. ''Me too,'' your eyes close without you realizing it, and with a cry of his name, you come all over his cock. A string of curses follows, and you feel him twitch, hips stilling, and warm liquid fills you up. 

You take a minute to come down to earth again, and so does he. Leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek, he rolls over beside you, still panting a little. 

''Fuck. My baby, you did so well.'' 

You're not sure how it is possible to feel so giddy and syrupy after being so unbelievably horny just a second ago. Guess he has that effect on you.

''It was amazing, Yuyu. I love you, so much.''

''I love you too.''

He drapes his blanket over the both of you, snuggling closer, stroking your hair with your head on his chest. You want to say more cheesy things to him. Just as you open your mouth, though, there's a knock on the door, and Mingi's figure pops in, hand covering his eyes.

''Are you guys done? Please tell me you're decent; I do not want to see y/n's boobs or worse!'' 

You yelp, tugging the covers to your chin. Both Yunho and you decide to speak.

''We're decent.'' 

''When did you come back?!''

''Just in time to hear the closing credits.''

Mingi is now taking in the scene. Clothes scattered on the floor, Yunho's disheveled look, you trying to hide in the blanket. Lovely.

''I am traumatized, by the way.''

''What's that supposed to mean?''

''We brought beef, by the way. Wanna join us in the kitchen?''

You're lost. You don't know if you should feel embarrassed or offended. Mingi doesn't bat an eye at your barely covered form. At least that's what it feels like.

''Let us maybe get dressed first?'' Yunho chimes in, hugging you to him to try and cover himself a bit too. 

Mingi leaves, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You start to shift a bit when the door gets burst open once again, followed by, ''Wait, so you are actually dating?!''

[rottingfacade]

my roommate thinks that I don’t deserve privacy just because I don’t have my own room, he can’t take the hint from me sleeping on the couch or staying in the garage bathroom, he has to provoke and invade me every moment he isn’t busy, but if I try to actually have a conversation he just ignores me

[fictionismyreality3]

Jealousy is my Best Friend (18+)

Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: Smut, jealous!jason todd, protective!jason todd, possessive!jason todd

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, penetrating sex, hair pulling, choking, spanking, sir kink

Notes: am I.. a whore? MaByE🤪 I would certainly let Jay do anything mentioned in this oneshot 🫣and OMG ANGry SeX

When you got invited to the Wayne Christmas Party you knew Jason would be livid.

It was almost a year since you’d been together and you grew to know him inside and out. Once you got past the edgy, broody and overly aggressive personality, he really was a sweet guy. But he got jealous.

Really jealous.

Since you had moved in with Jason a few months ago, you had gotten to see his more possessive side almost 24/7. He was rarely ever out of touching distance, always keeping a hand on you, especially if you had company over. The few times you met his brothers, he was practically acting like a viscous guard dog.

That’s why you knew he wouldn’t be happy that Bruce had invited you without him knowing. But, in defence of Gotham’s Dark Knight, everyone knew that Jason didn’t want you involved with his family.

So, obviously you accepted the invitation.

Yes, you knew he would be mad when he found out and when you insisted on going, but you wanted to be a part of all aspects of his life.

So, here you were. Standing in the living room of your apartment, all dressed up and ready to go, with Jason sitting fuming on the couch.

“You’re not going.” He murmured.

“Why? Do you know how bitchy I would seem I didn’t show up?” You said exasperated.

Jason ran a hand through his hair in frustration, letting out a long sigh as his eyes drifted up and down your outfit again.

“You’re not going in that.”

You were reaching the end of your rope. You had been arguing with Jason for the better part of half an hour and he hadn’t budged. The dress you had picked out for the party was one of the few times you let yourself splurge. You looked hot. You knew you looked hot and Jason knew it too. That’s why it was so impossible for him to sit with the fact that other men would be seeing you.

Jason’s eyes roamed your body again. The red fabric of the dress hugged your hips, making him want to reach out and grab you. His colour. He knew you chose that dress just to get him worked up and he loved how well it was working.

Not knowing who was going to be looking at you was utterly infuriating, even more so since he knew exactly what they would be thinking. A gorgeous girl like you? Fuck, if he wasn’t already with you he’d be eye fucking you along with the rest of them. Not that he wasn’t already.

“Are you even listening, Jay?”

Your voice broke him out of his lusting thoughts and he felt the sour pang of jealousy creep to the forefront of his mind once more.

“I’m not gonna waste this dress! Do you know how much I spent-”

“Shut… christ, shut your pretty little mouth and let me talk for one fucking second.” He growled.

Your mouth hung open, floundering for a second before it closed. Jason’s fists were clenching and unclenching. You watched that vein that only popped out when he was angry beginning to pulse with blood. His head was in his hands as he ran his hands through his hair.

With a predatory speed, his head raised and his gaze snapped to yours. His eyes pulsed green.

Before you could figure out what was happening he was striding across the room and pinning you against the wall, his hands on either side of your head.

“Jay, I didn’t-” You tried.

The rest of your pleading sentence was cut short as Jason’s hand slipped from the wall to wrap around your throat, squeezing slightly. He really wished you would just be quiet. Every time you opened your mouth he just wanted to fill it with something other than words.

“Do you know..” he inhaled sharply, “how fucking hard it is to let people seen even an inch of your skin?”

“I can-” You began to say, but Jason’s grip on your throat tightened and the words stopped at your lips.

“Stop. Talking.” His jaw ticked.

With a tortured sigh, he dipped his head down to the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin. He was utterly enraptured by you, and the thought of anyone else having you made his skin crawl.

“You’re not going to the party.” He said, his voice a little softer as he placed a gentle kiss to your neck.

“Jay, please. I need to meet your family.” You protested.

Your continued pleading was interrupted by your phone ringing where you had put it on the kitchen counter. Squinting your eyes, you just made out the caller ID. Dick Grayson. Thinking he could talk some sense into Jason, you used the distraction of the noise to break from his hold and run to the kitchen.

Grabbing the phone, you answered as quickly as you could. But, before you could get a word out, Jason snatched it right out of your hand.

“We’re not coming.” He said darkly, and hung up before Dick could say a word.

Okay, now you were fucked.

You took a step back and retreated all the way into the kitchen until the back of your legs hit the counter.

The taste of jealousy Jason had tried to push down was rearing its ugly head more than ever. Of all people, you were going to get his brother to help? He was fine when strangers tried something with you, he could always break a few arms. But his brother? Fuck no.

Jason prowled towards you. The sound of each step on the kitchen tile reverberated through your bones. He consumed your field of vision as he trapped you between him and the kitchen counter. You bit your lip, knowing better than to say anything. You knew that you had earned a rough punishment.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep a lid on his temper, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

He kissed your forehead.

“Knees.”

Your legs clenched together as a rush of heat flooded your core. The dark eyes of your boyfriend looked at you expectantly, and it was all you could do not to melt on the spot. Not wanting to earn a harsher punishment, you lowered yourself to the floor.

Jason’s eyes drifted to where your skin met the hard tile. He took off his suit jacket and bent down to put it underneath your knees. The only marks on your skin would be from him.

Your heart swooned at his actions. Even though he was gonna fuck you silly, he was still treating you like a princess.

“What should I do with you, huh?” His fingers found your chin and he tilted your head up to look at him.

Seeing those pretty doe eyes of yours staring up at him was almost enough to make him cum in his pants.

“Should I fuck your bratty mouth?” He said condescendingly sweet. Your head was swimming as your panties pooled with desire. You loved how he reduced you to a speechless mess with just a few words.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He rasped.

“Yes, please Jay.” You whined.

Your begging was only met with a sharp tug of your hair, and you realized your mistake.

“Sir! Yes please, sir.” You corrected quickly.

That was more like it. Jason smiled down at you proudly, almost smug with the way you went from angry to eager for his cock. With torturously slow movements, he undid his belt and placed it on the counter beside him. He usually liked to please you first, but he was too riled up to go slow.

His hand came to hold your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he undid the zipper of his pants. Most of the times he made you take him out, but he didn’t want to look away from your pretty eyes.

Even if you wanted to move, you couldn’t with the way he was holding you. The head of his cock brushed against your lips, and he finally let go of your chin.

“Show me how sorry you are, baby.” He said lowly.

Your previous anger had evaporated into a haze of desire, and you greedily took him into your mouth, earning a deep groan from Jason. One of his hands threaded into your hair as it had done a hundred times before, and you twirled your tongue around the head of his cock.

The familiar heat of desire thrummed through your veins, and with each lick you felt your pussy dripping with arousal. Jason murmured praises under his breath, his quiet groans filling the room.

God, he loved your mouth.

So hot and wet. Perfectly skilled at drawing all sorts of noises he didn’t know he could make from his lips. And your hands were even better. As soon as you started to roll his balls in your hand, his head tipped back in ecstasy.

“Dirty girl.” He gasped out.

Seeing how much you affected him filled your heart with pride, but before you could make a bratty comment, he had both hands in your hair and was pushing his cock to the back of your mouth.

You gagged instinctively, and your hands shot out to his thighs, pushing weakly against him. You moaned around his cock, only making him press himself deeper in your mouth until your nose touched his pubic bone.

“Oh, fuck baby.. just a-” His cock pulsed, heavy in your mouth. “Just a little more.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes and your pussy clenched on nothing. God, he loved making you cry on his cock. He barely held back his orgasm as your little hands started to hit against his legs.

“Oh.. okay. Shit, princess you’re so.. whiny.” He mummers.

You try your best to take all of him down your throat, but he’s so big that it makes it hard to breathe. Wanting to please him seemed to be the only thought in your head as your core burned with the anticipation of the pleasure you would receive in return.

You sucked hard once, then twice, and had him gasping. Taking his cock from your mouth, he pulled you up from the floor.

“You want this cock so bad you have to be fucking brat?” He growled as he bent you over the counter top.

The cool air suddenly rushed across your skin as he ripped your dress off, throwing it to the floor without care. You were left bare apart from your bra and panties, which were red to match your dress.

“That was expensive..” You complained.

“I’ll buy you another one.” He said as he kept you pinned to the counter with a hand on your back.

And you knew he would.

He loved seeing you like this. Bent over, legs spread, your pussy dripping so much your panties already had a dark patch. Your red panties. His colour on his girl. He took a breath in through his nose, his hips jutting forwards and brushing against your clit.

“Jay-” A swift spank had your ass blooming with stinging pain.

“Sir! Sir, sir, sir.. M’sorry.. please, sir.. please.” You whined, repeating the title over and over again.

Jason got to his knees, pushing your legs apart, and pulled your panties down, throwing them with your discarded dress. His hands ran up and down your legs, the calloused skin of his palms making you shudder with impatience. Sensing your desperation, he decided to take mercy on you. You had been a good girl so far.

Without warning, he licked from your clit to leaking slit, moaning at the sweet taste his girl on his tongue. He could eat you for days and never need to come up for air.

“So needy..” He whispered, the air from his words brushing your clit and making you whine.

With one hand on the back of your thigh, and the other on your ass, he began to eat you from behind. His movements were aggressive like him, and he licked and sucked you without abandon. He had your hands flailing against the countertop, only to find nothing to hold on to.

He felt your thighs shaking where they were around his head, and pushed two fingers inside. You cried out in pleasure, your eyes squeezing shut as he curled his fingers to hit that perfect spot over and over and over and-

“Don’t you dare fucking cum.” He hissed, his words muffled by your cunt.

Strings of moans and high pitched mewls fell from your throat as Jason worked you up to the edge, only to pull his fingers out or take his tongue off your clit. You couldn’t even lift your head anymore, your mind too dizzy with pleasure as he pumped his fingers into you.

“I’m gonna.. need to.. oh, pl-please-” You words came out choked when when Jason suddenly added a third finger, stretching you out.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” He said pulling his head back, leaving you missing his tongue.

“Y-yes..” You mewl breathlessly.

Jason hummed in consideration, his fingers slowing down almost to a stop. You felt painfully empty as he pulled his fingers out of your needy pussy, your walls squeezing around air. Jason stood up, still behind you, and leaned down. His chest pressed against your back and all of your senses were consumed by his weight on top of you.

“Who gets to touch this perfect little pussy?” He whispered into your ear.

“You, sir.” You gasped.

“Hm.. and who gets to decide if you get to cum?”

“You, sir..” You words came out breathy.

“Good fucking girl.” Jason rasped.

Far too soon his weight was off of you, but your mind was quickly calmed as you felt the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your entrance. You sighed out in bliss, your mind running through all the other times he had you screaming.

“Gonna take me real good, huh?” He muttered and slammed his cock into you without a moments notice.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry. Tears pooled in your eyes as your breath caught in your throat.

You were so full.

Everything about Jason was large, including his cock, and you felt like you were fucking him for the first time all over again. You could never get used to his size.

After letting you adjust for a moment, ever the gentlemen even when blowing your back out, he began to lazily roll his hips into you.

The teasingly slow pace was incomprehensibly difficult for Jason to maintain. As soon as he was inside of you it took every ounce of willpower to resist fucking you so hard that your brains leaked out of your pussy.

But he wanted to see you fall apart even more.

You whimpered and whined, making such pretty noises for him. His large hands gripped your waist easily, allowing him to prevent you from getting greedy and bouncing back on his cock.

“Oh g-god please.. I can’t handle it..” You said in what felt like part moan, part sob.

Jason stilled his movements and you thought you might cry, but then he tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you up so your back was flush against his chest.

“Who owns you, princess?” He said as he wrapped his hand around your throat.

“You do, Jason.” You mewled.

“That’s fucking right, baby. Good girl.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

And before you could ask he was already bending you back over, your chest against the cool marble countertop as he began to pound into you relentlessly.

You cried out at the sudden roughness, your walls clenching around his cock, earning a strangled moan from Jason. If it wasn’t for the hand he had on the back of your neck, you would have been pitching forward with each thrust. Your hands shot out to press against the white tile backsplash, needing something to ground you. Every time he pumped into you the tip of his cock would brush against your cervix, the delicious pang of being full of Jason had you screaming.

“You’re okay. You can- oh fuck..” He gasped out as your pussy tightened around him. “You can take it, pretty girl.”

He rasped out the reassurance, but he didn’t know how much longer he could stop himself from cumming. Every time he fucked you he only got more hooked on your body. The sounds you made, the noises and little breathy whimpers always had him harder than he thought was possible.

And you really were doing so well.

He knew he had been rough with you, but when your sweet little cunt was so fucking tight around him, how was he supposed to go slow? With every thrust he watched your eyes roll further back into your head. It felt like he was molding you from the inside out. Shaping you to fit with him and only him.

All you could do was lay there and take it. Tears had begun to fall down your cheeks, and Jason reached down to brush them away.

“You.. jesus christ, you’re mine, sweetheart.” He gasped out.

You nodded, your wanton moaning answer enough. You looked over your shoulder at Jason and his resolve snapped.

His hips were suddenly pistoling into you with a speed only reachable by a man like him. Your jaw hung open as a string of curses and groans bubbled past Jason’s lips.

“Need to..” You begged incoherently.

“I know, I know.. shit-” His cock twitched inside you. “cum with me, sweetheart.”

As soon as the words of permission slipped from his mouth your body reacted before your mind could process it. You cried out as your eyes rolled back in your head, your legs quivering so much you were grateful to be bent over the counter. Jason was cumming just as soon as he felt your cunt squeeze around him with a vice like grip. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy as he gasped and groaned out in pleasure.

Your head was hazy as your legs twitched with aftershocks. The only reminder that you were still on earth was Jason leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck.

“That’s it. Deep breath. Did so good for me, baby.” He cooed soothingly and pulled out.

You whined at the loss of him, feeling empty, but he quickly silenced you with a searing kiss. He watched with a proud grin as he leaked out of you, dripping down your inner thigh.

After you had calmed down enough to remember how to breath, Jason picked you up easily and began carrying you to the bathroom, his eyes on your face the entire time.

“Maybe I should make you angry more often.” You giggled.

He rolled his eyes at your remark, giving your nose a little kiss.

“Don’t even think about it.”

[katsu28]

i want you here

pairing: steve harrington x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understatement of the century.” 

“Ouch.” 

“Hold me?” 

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

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

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

Steve always had that kind of effect on you. 

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

“I’m okay, Stevie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah!” 

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

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

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

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

“Did you—did you do laundry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look really pretty today. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s so fucking cheesy.” 

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

“Are you excited?” 

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

“Please don’t.” 

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s the middle of the day!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

“I have food in the fridge, y’know.”

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

“I’ve been meaning to go shopping!” 

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I am.”

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

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

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

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

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[pretty-little-mind33]

Sergei Kravinoff x fem!reader

Summary: After being taken by his father, you find comfort in each other in an unconventional way.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: rough quickie sex, dom!sergei, sub!reader, unprotected sex, penetration, riding, no foreplay, passionate, degradation, praise, reader cries, pain kink kinda? spanking, scratching, bleeding, blood, violence, insecurities, break down.

~ thank you @princesssunderworld for all the wonderful prompts as always!! hope you like this! ~

SERGEI KRAVINOFF MASTERLIST

His dad had crossed a line this time.

Sergei's dealt with so much bullshit from his dad as a kid and a teenager but this—capturing you? Hurting you? The one thing in his life that actually made sense? It was too much. His dad had crossed a line.

He didn't have any hesitation when he found the van, using all his strength to rip the driver in half. 

Literally. 

He could kill his father for this. He thinks he will. It wasn't helping that with every bullet that grazes his skin, he just becomes angrier. He throws one of the men to the side, snarling like an animal as his shoulders rise and fall rapidly.

That's when he sees you, curled up in the corner of the van, a chain bound to your ankle as you stare at him.  

"Малышка (Babygirl)," he grumbles, his voice husky and thick as he halts his movements. He drops the man he'd had in a chokehold. Sergei's body aches as blood drips down his arms and seeps through his shirt from the multiple bullet grazes and wounds. He stalks closer and when he sees you visibly flinch, his heart shatters. 

Luckily for anyone involved, you aren't hurt in significant any way just shaken up. His father hadn't gotten far with his plan, considering Sergei had found you almost immediately after he learned of your disappearance. 

You don't talk for a few hours as you're simply huddled on one of the armchairs in your shared living room, a warm blanket draped across thighs and a glass of Kissel, your favorite Russian drink Sergei makes so well, sits in your lap.

It isn't until your boyfriend finally walks in from the bathroom, shirtless and still dripping blood, that you snap into reality. He's grunting as he wraps a bandage around his arm, sitting down on the second armchair, and spreading his legs automatically. He sinks down and shuts his eyes, unaware of your disappearing into the bathroom for a moment. 

"You never take care of yourself," you whisper, causing him to open his eyes again and meet your gaze. You've come back and now you're examining the bruises on his hands. He yanks them away from you.

"Sit down, Y/n. You're hurt," he says harshly, shifting and then groaning in pain once more. 

You frown. It almost feels like all those walls you'd broken down over the last year had instantly built themselves back up, even stronger this time. Your heart sinks. You have minimal aches, mostly from the chains, and he's sitting here bleeding from bullet wounds and he insists you're the one who is hurt?

"Sergei," you whisper and lean over him, trying to see the new wounds mixed in with the old scars. "Please let me clean you up. You're hurt, not me," you say and bend over to dip some cotton balls in rubbing alcohol you'd found in the bathroom.

He stares at you, his eyes dark as you lean over and clean the blood from his face and his torso. He keeps grunting, thesounds deep from inside him. He isn't hissing in pain. No, he's grunting in anger, making almost animalistic sounds that cause a burning in your stomach.

You don't know how to help him when he's like this so you do the next best thing you can think of — you fall to your knees in front of him, your hands resting on his thighs.

"Stop," he warns as soon as he sees you do this, shaking his head. "Stand up."

You feel desperate as you run your hands up and down his jeans. 

"Малышка (Babygirl)," another warning, but this time he's leaning closer and grabbing your chin in his rough hand, squeezing. "You think dropping to your knees like a whore is going to make all this okay again? Make this normal? You could have died. I could have lost you," his voice wavers and he shuts his eyes, his chest heaves as he drops your chin and leans back.

"Stand up. Now," he orders again.

"I wanna make you feel better. You saved me," you say, reaching for the thick leather belt of his jeans, and that's when Sergei snaps.

His hand tightens in your hair suddenly, pulling you onto his lap as the dress you'd worn from last night, when his dad's men had taken you, still hugs your frame and the straps fall from your shoulders.

Sergei groans and grips your hips.

"You want me to fill you up? Is that what you want?" he accuses, unzipping his jeans in a frenzy now. He's achingly hard and he knows he shouldn't be but in his defense, all his emotions have had to build up somewhere. Your mind is fuzzy from desperate want and you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands become rougher on your skin.

You moan, feeling his hard cock underneath your ass. 

"You fuckin' slut," he grunts, dipping his hand underneath you, pulling aside your panties as he snaps them. He checks you. He wants to make sure you're wet so he won't hurt you. As much as he needs this and he wants to use you until you're a broken mess, it won't be fun for him if you're crying for all the wrong reasons. 

He grins and nips at your neck. "Your pussy is drenched, шлюха (whore)."

You whimper against his shoulder he sinks into you without any prior warning, his hands rough as he squeezes your ass and spanks you a few times. You bounce on him, your dress riding up your thighs as it bunches up at your hips, panties torn on the floor, as your eyes water.

It's overwhelming in the best way. Your pussy clenches around him, gripping his cock as his groans turn into moans.

"Shit, Sergei, please," you gasp as he fucks into you, his rhythm faster and harder than yours. You try and keep up. You cry out as he uses you, tears fall down your cheeks, and the room around you spins. Your eyes flutter. Your head drops onto his shoulders, your breathing becomes harder as he ruts into you.

"Черт, я люблю тебя. Я чертовски сильно люблю тебя, детка. (Fuck, I love you. I love you so damn much, baby)" he groans in your ear, chasing his high as his hands tighten on your skin and he presses harsh kisses on your cheeks to keep you staring up at him with that broken look in your eyes. You're making small whines from being unable to understand him when he speaks Russian and because he's making you feel so good. "Always so obedient, so willing to please me."

"Mhm, please," you groan, needing him. "Please, Sergei," you sob his name, clenching around him. "Can I come now? Need to come," you whimper. 

"No," he growls and you sob harder. He's enjoying your pain, relishing in your whines as you lose yourself in him. His movements become harsher, almost bruising as he takes you just the way he wants. 

"Please," your voice sounds weak and your moans have turned more painful. He hears the crying but he's too lost in his haze to stop now as he shakes his head and his nails dig into your skin.

"No." 

You squeal when he thrusts particularly hard and with a small, shit, he's coming inside you, spilling himself to the brim as his body tightens. You're whining, small lines of blood trickling from your arms where he'd scratched you as you follow his orgasm, experiencing yours as well even without his permission.

Sergei is panting now, his eyes bleary as he removes his hand from your skin, his palms tainted in your blood. His eyes widen as some control returns and he pushes away from you much too violently, causing a his of pain as that emptiness overwhelms you and you look at him with tear stained cheeks.  

"Дорогой (Sweetheart)," he whispers and reaches for you after he tucks himself back into his jeans, stumbling back when he sees the mess he'd made of you. He falls to his knees, all these sensations he's feeling finally overwhelm him and he sobs quickly, his head bent to the floor. 

Your heart clenches at the sight. Your legs feel shaky and you wince from your soreness as you walk over to him. You hate seeing him like this; so broken.

You adjust your dress and wipe your tears as you kneel beside him. "Baby," you whisper, "hey."

He flinches as looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and he shakes his head. "Run. Run away from me, love, please," his hoarse voice sounds shaky as his eyes flicker to your arm and he sees the blood again. He clenches his jaw.

"It's only a scratch," you tell him honestly and wipe the blood away, showing him that he didn't leave any permanent scars. You reach for him and take him into your arms. Surprisingly, he lets you, and his arms wrap around your waist, holding you close as his sobs shake your body. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry they took you," Sergei says, eyes softer than you've ever seen them. "You're so goddamn precious to me and–and goddamnit, I hurt you too— I'm just as bad as them." He holds you closer and sobs into your shoulder. "I'm a monster."

You shake your head and hold your hand in his hair, sinking further onto your heels as his weight overwhelms you. "No, no, you are not a monster. And you didn't hurt me. I'm okay. I promise. Sergei, I I love you," you say honestly.

He pulls away and cups your cheek so gently his touch is almost non-existent. "I love you too, Малышка (Babygirl), more than I've ever loved anyone." His hand smoothes down to the scratch marks he'd made in the heat of the passion and he bends down to kiss them better.

"My good girl," he breathes, relaxing a little, "even when she comes without permission."    

He looks up and holds your chin in his hand. "I mean what I said. You should run away from me, Y/n. Run so far and never look back. I need that for you, but even more, I want you to stay with me," he swallows thickly and after a pause he says, "Please. Don't leave me." 

Your stomach flutters at his words and you nod. "I won't leave you, Sergei. Never."

He growls that familiar animalistic growl and kisses your lips so gently, holding you in his arms as he vows to himself he'll keep you safe. 

Always.

[shitouttabuck]

oh my god nina!!! 8 for the bedsharing prompts if it takes your fancy <33

thank you sweet peach this scratched an itch !!!

bed-sharing prompts: whispering “Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up.”

Eddie’s not old—he’s not even 30, despite the near-constant jokes about his senior citizen-isms he seems incapable of shaking. And he wouldn’t even say he’s a man of creature comforts. He just likes familiarity, and routine, and his own goddamn bed.

Quarantine has brought a lot of change: being away from Chris, living in a single-occupancy apartment with three other people, and sharing a bed with all six-foot-two of Evan Buckley.

Currently, this means waking up at some wretched hour and squinting in the moonlight filtering in through half-open blinds, because the aforementioned best friend has stolen Eddie’s pillow from right under his head yet again.

Eddie groans quietly, easing his neck out of the crick it’s cramped in. He glares at the enormous lump snoring serenely beside him and pats the mattress blindly for his pillow. Eyes adjusting to the dark, he’s greeted by the same sight he’s woken to at ungodly hours thrice this month already: Buck with his gigantic thieving arms wrapped happily around Eddie’s goddamn pillow as he clutches it to his chest, dead to the world.

“Fuck’s sake,” Eddie mutters, reaching out and tugging the end of the pillowcase to no avail. Buck’s vice-grip doesn’t falter even in sleep. Eddie’s usually able to coax it out of his grasp without waking him, but it takes a minute, and their last shift had been a full-body workout from hell, and Eddie just wants to go the fuck back to sleep with a single measly pillow supporting his exhausted head. Surely that’s not too decadent a luxury to expect.

He tugs again, harder and meaner than he normally would. The pillow inches out of Buck’s hold, and Eddie grabs a firmer handful to yank it away, grunting triumphantly when it pops free.

“Hrmmph,” Buck grumbles, crease appearing between his eyebrows. Eddie stills, holding his breath as he gauges Buck’s proximity to consciousness. He thinks he’s in the clear, but then Buck murmurs unhappily and rolls ever-so-slightly towards Eddie.

“S’your turn to be th’ li’l spoon,” he slurs, and Eddie freezes even further. “’M th’ big spoon t’night.” He pats half-heartedly at the mattress between him and Eddie, jaw going slack again after a few seconds.

Eddie grins, just barely containing the snort that bubbles up at Buck’s sleep-talking. There’s enough distance from Ali and even Abby, post-train debacle, that means he can wring weeks’ worth of teasing out of this. Whichever one of them it is Buck’s dreaming of, Eddie thinks multiple nights of interrupted sleep allow him a little good-natured—if merciless—ribbing.

He shifts onto his back, shoving the pillow under his head and shutting his eyes with a sigh, but the movement has Buck mumbling again. His face is mashed into his own pillow, words barely intelligible when he says, “Y’re littler than me. C’mon, lemme be big spoon.”

The snort sneaks out of Eddie then, just a bit. He barely knew either woman, but he can’t quite picture them indulging Buck in this line of conversation. It’s—sweet, if deeply mortifying for Buck himself to know anyone else has heard it.

Buck snuffles discontentedly, forehead scrunching as he reaches out in search of the pillow, still asleep.

“Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up,” Eddie whispers, wondering if there’s more entertainment about to be provided and if it’s worth getting up to unplug his phone and catch the tail end of this on video.

“Urgh,” asleep-Buck responds, patting the bed a little more insistently when he’s unsuccessful in his pillow-retrieval endeavours. “Wh’re—c’mere. Eddie. Y’re li’l spoon.”

This time when Eddie freezes, it’s such a sudden locking of every joint in his body that his neck cricks in the opposite direction. He barely feels it, singularly focused on Buck’s latest garbled complaint, because—is Buck awake? Is Buck dreaming about him?

He’s frozen so still he doesn’t realise Buck’s questing hand is now well in range of Eddie himself, and he jolts back into his body when Buck’s strong, calloused fingers wrap around his wrist.

“C’me back,” he whines, tugging at Eddie while shuffling closer at the same time. Eddie holds himself carefully still, hardly daring to breathe as Buck slowly but surely plasters his long, long body along Eddie’s side, hitching one leg over Eddie’s thigh before flinging an arm across his torso and dragging him nearer.

“Mm,” he hums, brow smoothing out. His cheek rests on Eddie’s shoulder, face smushed but seemingly satisfied. Eddie’s arm is trapped between his own side and Buck’s stomach, and he worms it under Buck’s body almost on autopilot, more to get comfortable than anything else. This leaves him basically cradling Buck to him, and Buck gives one final happy grunt before burrowing his face into Eddie’s neck and going limp, a dead weight over Eddie’s right side.

Eddie makes his fingers relax where they’re clutching the back of Buck’s t-shirt. This is—fine. Normal and fine. So Buck isn’t dreaming about cuddling an ex-girlfriend, he’s dreaming about holding Eddie. They’ve been living out of each other’s pockets more than usual recently, leaning on each other a little heavier through a global pandemic and missing Christopher. Eddie’s told himself it’s because of constant proximity, and maybe it is, but whatever the reason, if Buck’s subconscious is embracing that vulnerability in this way, that’s fine. He’s an affectionate guy, and while it’s relatively new for Eddie to be on the receiving end of that from another man, he’s not one to shy away because of someone else’s archaic ideas of masculinity.

And—hold on. Y’re littler than me? Was that what Buck said? Eddie huffs indignantly, and then huffs again for different reasons, feeling his cheeks heat. He doesn’t know why, but he pulls Buck a little closer.

It’s still normal and fine, he finds, turning his head to press his nose into Buck’s curls. That surprises him a little, that there’s no freak-out of any kind accompanying—whatever this is. Buck smells like vanilla, because he used Chim’s fancy shampoo that’s actually Maddie’s fancy shampoo because both of them are missing her something fierce, and he’s definitely drooling onto Eddie’s neck, and now that he’s not sleep-talking he’s back to snoring like a motorcycle, and Eddie’s slipping under before he can marvel any more at just how normal and fine it all is.

When the moonlight is swapped for sunlight, Eddie stirs to Chim singing along to radio in the kitchen downstairs. Buck blinks awake right alongside him, cheek imprinted with creases from Eddie’s collar and turning pink as he hastily peels himself away.

“Oh, um, sorry,” he says, voice rough with sleep. He contorts his body in surprise trying to roll off Eddie’s arm. “Did I—sorry, Eds.”

Eddie works his arm back under Buck, easy and deliberate. “S’fine,” he yawns. “It was my turn to be the little spoon.”

In his peripheral vision, Buck turns a brilliant red, and Eddie gives him a reassuring squeeze before taking great joy in telling him just how embarrassed he should be about the contents of his dreams.

(Buck’s mortification is blessedly short-lived, since the contents of Eddie’s dreams are equally embarrassing in the very exact same way, as it turns out.)

[its-all-papaya]

do you have any clingy/possessive landoscar thoughts? 🤔

Yes. I do have thoughts. Thank you for asking.

tell me what you wish I'd write

I am… obsessed with clingy needy Lando. And I don’t write him suuuuper that way a lot, I usually try and rein him in, but if you want me to be self-indulgent, I can and will.

snippet at the end!

update: second bonus snippet here

Lando basically always wants Oscar. His attention, his laughter, his hands, his everything. All of it. All the time. Lando’s always been like that with the people he cares about. Max F, Carlos, everybody he’s ever dated… He knows he’s needy. He can usually keep a pretty good handle on things, though (he’s had a lot of practice). But sometimes, when his guard is down or when things are bad, his control over it slips a bit. And with Oscar, it’s like it’s ten times worse.

Even before they were properly close, Lando would get drunk and start asking after Oscar. His teammate was never out with them, but Lando would have his eighth drink in the club, or he’d do some lines with Max, or whatever, and it would be “I wish Oscar was here” and “can you call Oscar and ask if he’ll meet us?” and “I bet Oscar’s still awake, should I text him?” Extremely noticeable. And some of Lando’s more casual friends would be kind of blindsided because - again - Lando’s really good at being normal about Oscar when he’s got his whole brain to work with. But it’s Saturday night in Monaco over winter break and he says “it’s morning in Australia, I can FaceTime Oscar, right?” and his friends are like “didn’t know it was like that, mate?”

(He does FaceTime Oscar, on his walk home when there’s nobody to stop him, smile dopey as soon as Oscar picks up. The sun is shining in the background and making Oscar kind of glow around the edges, and Lando says “you look like an angel” and Oscar laughs and that’s even worse, Jesus, “you’re so pretty, Oscar, did you know?” and Oscar had been in the middle of a workout, but he sucks on his water bottle and grins and lets Lando talk nonsensically at him for 15 straight minutes until he’s safe and locked into his apartment with a glass of water on his bedside table. “Put some paracetamol out for yourself in the morning, okay? And sleep tight, Lando.” “Thanks, angel.”)

The second season is really different. They’re much looser and Lando forgets more often that he’s supposed to be holding himself back, giving Oscar space. It’s stupid, he’s been doing it with everyone all his life, but it’s like Oscar wipes his mind blank, and he’s weaseling his way under his arm every other minute at the MTC, hooking a chin over his shoulder while they review data, following him into his driver’s room after practice and talking Oscar through his entire hour, every lap. Oscar never really tells him off, though. He just nods and smiles his quiet smile and drops odd comments when Lando lets his train of thought go a little too far off track.

Getting closer with Oscar is probably a mistake for at least one of them, because it’s like giving Lando’s brain permission to think about him even more. Oscar’s thread is always near the top when Lando opens WhatsApp, and tapping his number to call is too near to muscle memory for Lando to talk himself out of it when he’s drunk. More often than not when he’s out, the night begins and ends with Oscar - a “coming tn?" as Lando walks in and a blurry, giggly “‘lo, Osc,” through a dark front camera on his way out.

Oscar starts out with a hint of decorum. He’ll throw a shirt on before answering Lando’s call, flick the bedside lamp on, and prop his phone up so his face is mostly in frame. That lasts a few weeks, then he starts answering in the middle of whatever he’s already doing (like brushing his teeth, one memorable time, when Lando had insisted on counting up to 120 for him to make sure he did a satisfactory job) and in whatever state he’s already in. By China, Oscar’s answering from bed half the time, face barely discernible in the dark of the hotel room, mostly just mumbling “mhm” while Lando tells him all about what he’s gotten up to at the bars.

SNIPPET (kind of? this was a bullet point and then I realized I was typing actual prose so it’s a bit of a blend… bare with me… it was like 2am for me when this was cooked up…)

Oscar doesn’t come out after Miami. But he does - and he’d deny this to anybody except Lando himself, probably, and even then only when Lando’s too fucked up to remember it - stay up waiting for Lando’s call. He’d congratulated Lando in person multiple times at the track, but it doesn’t feel the same. It’s embarrassing to admit, but as much as he used to find Lando’s drunk calls a little inconvenient (though always distantly amusing) he’s grown quite attached to them somewhere along the line - the quiet intimacy, the little jokes and admissions and compliments Lando hands out when he’s far gone and using Oscar to bring himself down. Lando doesn’t call anybody else like that (Oscar had asked him once, when he was waiting for his Uber in some city or another at half two in the morning). It’s just for them - a special them. 

It gets late, though. Lando always rings late, but it gets late enough that Oscar starts worrying that Lando won’t call at all, that he’s taken someone home, or he’s passed out on someone’s couch, or he’s planning to be out so late it turns right over to early the next day instead. The sun is rising when his phone finally goes off. He’s dozed a bit on and off, the exhaustion of his own race winning out for minutes at a time, but he’s left his ringer on to make sure he doesn’t miss Lando. It’s a special occasion, yeah? He can’t be held accountable. He just doesn’t want to be the one responsible for bringing Lando down from his high inadvertently by shirking his cooldown call. 

Anyway, it’s past 4 a.m. when Oscar’s jolted from his half-daze by the notification, and he sees he’s missed a few texts ahead of time, asking if he’s awake. He hadn’t answered, obviously, but Lando’s calling anyway. Oscar’s too tired, brain too soft and amorphous, to decide how to feel about that at the moment.

“Morning, angel,” he says when he picks up. It’d started as a joke, as most of their little idiosyncrasies had, a reversal, but it’s probably not totally that anymore.

“Oscar,” Lando says. Oscar had expected him to be loud, still riding out his high, but he’s practically whispering. When Oscar finally musters up the will to check the screen, Lando’s in the dim dark somewhere. All quiet.

“Yeah, babe.” They don’t talk like this normally. It’s like these calls exist in a liminal space between their day-to-day lives now and whatever Oscar’s convinced they’re headed towards.

“It’s not morning,” Lando says. A light turns on off-screen.

“Not for you, maybe. I was asleep.” Oscar rubs at his eyes for effect, even though Lando’s not really looking at the phone. His eyes snap to the camera at that, though, and Oscar watches his face fall a little.

“I woke you?”

Oscar doesn’t give it long before he’s shushing Lando gently, “It’s alright. I’m glad you did, I want to hear about your night.”

Lando brightens back up. He’s not as drunk as Oscar expected, but he’s far enough from sober to be pretty suggestible, still, pretty easy with a smile.

He launches into a story about Max and some other names Oscar instantly forgets and a band Oscar’s never heard of, and - as the camera jostles with Lando’s efforts to pry his own shoes off - Oscar realizes he’s already back to his hotel room. 

When Lando hits a long enough pause in his rambling, Oscar says, “Hey, Lan, you want to get ready for bed? You should sleep a little.”

Lando’s nose wrinkles and his face takes on the petulant tilt Oscar is well-acquainted with after half a year of these late-night-early-morning calls.

“C’mon,” he encourages, “you’ll feel better tomorrow. I’ll help.”

Lando agrees, though he still looks a little sour about it, so Oscar talks him slowly through his nighttime routine between stretches of “Oh! Oscar! Max called Charles pretty five times, I think," and “Have you ever had a cherry bomb? Someone ordered me one.” Oscar helps him pick out a soft t-shirt to sleep in and reminds him to fill a glass with water for the bedside table and counts to 120 while Lando brushes his teeth, phone propped against the mirror. 

When everything’s sorted and Lando is sliding into bed, Oscar yawns and says, “Good to go?”

Unexpectedly, Lando’s eyes go big and kind of watery at that, and he picks the phone up from the covers and brings it close to his face so Oscar’s screen is mostly pout.

“You’re going?” Lando asks, and he sounds so forlorn that Oscar can feel his heart ache in his chest.

“Was going to,” Oscar confirms, even though it hurts a little, “You want me to stay?”

The light’s off, but Oscar can still see Lando hide his face in his pillow. It’s no surprise, then, when Lando’s, “Yeah. Please?” comes out muffled by the bulk of it.

Oscar softens to it. It was never a question.

“Okay,” he says, “you need me to talk? Or just stay on?”

“Stay on,” Lando says. His voice is back to normal, but it’s tiny, a little fragile. So different from the hours and hours leading up to this, Oscar thinks, contextualizing.

“Might fall asleep,” Oscar warns. His lamp’s back off, too, and with Lando safe and sound, Oscar’s bed feels cozier than ever.

“S’okay,” Lando says, “me too.”

“That’s good,” Oscar sets his phone next to him on the bed. Lando’s done the same, both screens matching black and gray, matching hotel ceilings just a few doors apart. “Goodnight, race winner.”

Lando’s laugh is mostly just a hard exhale, but it warms Oscar from the inside out just the same.

“Goodnight, angel.”

(I wrote another whole scene for this ask but this got kind of long already.... so if anybody would like to see it.... all it takes is one little ask... lmk.... xoxo)

[orionremastered]

Heyyy!

I just wanted to put in a request for part 2 of your Damian x surgical intern reader? (If that’s not too much to ask - I loved it so much!!)

~🌼

PLEASE SEND ME MORE ASKS THEY MAKE ME HAPPY

Masterlist

Surgeon!Damian Wayne x Surgical Resident!reader

Part One, Part Two

You were, decidedly, over it. After a ten hour long heart transplant- unusually long- you could feel your every breath, every blink, and every move you made was slow and manual. Dr. Wayne- no, Damian- was more exhausted than you could imagine.

When he stumbles, you grab his shoulders quickly to stop him falling. It takes him a second to stand upright again and thank you with a set of lethargic nods.

“You don’t look like you can drive home,” you tell him as you follow him out the OR, close behind in the event that he stumbles again.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, and you can only sigh at the stubborn man’s words.

“At least let me drive you home so you don’t cause an accident,” you insist, moving in front of him to ‘block’ his path.

Narrowed eyes and a grunt are all that follow for a few seconds after, regarding you with tired confusion. Did he seriously expect you to just let him drive home and cause an accident? To end up like the heart donor who was driving too fast and couldn’t be saved?

“Alright, fine.” He gives in, letting you lead him to the car park begrudgingly.

He unlocks his car, an expensive car by the looks of it, though you don’t know what kind- and gets into the passenger seat as you get behind the wheel.

“Wait.” his words are drawls now. “What about your-”

“I take the metro,” you reply, starting the car and driving out into the dark streets of Gotham.

Damian frowns, but in a few seconds, his head rests against the window and his eyes are closed, face relaxed for the first time that day.

It puts a soft smile onto your face when you see it, but then you realized you don’t know where he lives. And you can’t bring yourself to wake him up and ask.

You arrive at your building, gently coaxing Damian’s half-awake self, barely coherent when he mumbles something about his head. It’s certainly a challenge to get the man up the stairs since the elevator’s out of service as someone was murdered inside, but once you get him inside your (in all honesty, not even average sized) apartment, you have an odd choice to make.

He won’t fit on the couch- you have to crane your neck up to look at him, for crying out loud- but it’s awkward having a stranger in your bed, no?

Give the man a break, your mind chides. He’s worked too hard to be squished on the cheapest couch you could find.

Giving in, you let him drape across your bed, covering him with the blanket after taking off his shoes. You eat a pre-prepared meal, have a long and hot shower before finally being able to fall asleep.

You’re trying to get a blanket from the top of the closet, standing on your tiptoes as you attempt to wrestle the darn thing out when Damian drowsily speaks up from behind you.

“What’s the fuss? Just sleep here,” and now you’re uncertain if you’ve really got the world’s scariest attending surgeon in you apartment or not.

“No-no, it’s okay, just go back to sleep, you must be exhausted,” you reply, returning to the blanket that refuses to cooperate.

Damian huffs, and that was the end of that.

Until he gets up and drags you into your bed, arms wrapped tightly around you waist as he settles once more.

“You shouldn’t sleep on the couch,” he murmurs into your shoulder, lips brushing your skin gently when he talks. “It’ll hurt your neck.”

Damian had a point, but this wasn’t an option you were going to consider, but now that it was happening, you weren’t exactly opposed to it. It’s been a while since you’d been held like this, and it was... nice. Nice enough to make you drift off into sleep.

BONUS

You’d never know that at four in the morning, Damian awoke. Still tired, admittedly, but instantly aware of you in his arms.

A smile crossed is face as he watched you sleep, admiring your features as well as he could in the dark; your lashes, hair, nose, and (most importantly) your lips.

He admired them as long as he could before his eyes grew too heavy and he fell asleep for much needed rest.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Time Flies

Beau Arlen & daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Beau remembers some of your birthdays on your sweet sixteen.

You were three, and everything was princess-themed. Beau’s wife had gotten you this puffy dress that made you look like your favorite princess, all your preschool friends had been invited, and Beau felt like the whole house was pink or purple or glittered.

You’d ran around with your princess friends for hours, but as soon as the presents were open and the cake had been eaten and they were gone, you ran right for your daddy.

Beau had held you in his arms, humming happy birthday to you as he rocked you back and forth. He didn’t even care that there was going to be glitter all over his clothes. This moment was worth it.

…

You were eight, and the theme was How to Train Your Dragon. Beau had made these cardboard dragons for all the kids to “ride”, and you insisted that Toothless was yours alone. You were all dressed up like Hiccup, and all the other kids had picked their viking to be for the day, too.

The kids ran around with their dragons all day before sitting down to watch the movie after cake and presents.

Your mother was busy at work today, so Beau decided to join the kids after he’d cleaned the kitchen. He made his way over to the couch and found an open square to sit in. He hadn’t sat down for two seconds before you were abandoning your seat to crawl into his lap, cuddling up with him to enjoy the movie. Beau just smiled and wrapped you up in his arms, thinking there was no place he’d rather be.

…

You were fourteen, and it was Taylor Swift. Beau had gotten you every album for your record player so you could jam out to them during the party, and everything was once again covered in glitter. You’d invited all of the new people you’d met in your first few months of high school.

Beau was so busy with the heated argument he was having with his wife that he didn’t notice it was past time for the party to start. She was still pushing him about a therapist, trying to make him let go of a grief that was still far too new. He hadn’t wanted it to overshadow your day, but his wife had started making comments again and he just couldn’t keep quiet.

However, he did notice when you got up from your seat on the couch and started for your room. He held up his hand to his wife to stop the argument so he could talk to you.

“Hey sweetheart, where are you going? Isn’t your party supposed to start soon?” He could see your mom rolling her eyes about his sudden change in subject, but he ignored her.

“It was supposed to start a half an hour ago, dad,” you mumbled. “Nobody’s coming.”

“Well that can’t be right,” your mom jumped in. “Maybe the post office forgot to mail your invitations.”

“She passed them out at school,” Beau said, trying to temper his annoyance with his wife so he could focus on you. “Honey, maybe they’re just late.”

“They’re not coming,” you insisted, moving to go to your room again.

“Now hold on,” Beau started, but your mother butted in.

“Well we can still fix this. What do you say we go shopping, huh? Get you glammed up, forget about those high school jerks.”

“No thanks,” you sighed. “I just wanna go to my room.”

“Well, that’s no good,” your mother argued. “We can still have some fun!”

“I don’t want to!” You blurted.

“Hey, easy,” Beau said. He did think his wife was pushing you too far, but he still didn’t want you yelling at her.

“No, it’s fine,” your mom huffed. “She gets it from you,” she muttered to Beau before turning and walking out the door.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and it came out high-pitched.

“Hey,” Beau sighed, leaning down and wiping the tears from your eyes. “Hey, it’s ok. She’s upset with me, not you, I promise.”

You sniffled and didn’t respond. The room stayed quiet for a minute until your record switched songs and filled the air with the quiet hum of music.

“Ooh, I think I know this one,” Beau said, going to turn it up. “This one’s your favorite, right?”

Your lips twitched, just a little.

“Yeah.”

“Well c’mon now,” Beau said. “You’re gonna have to help me with the lyrics, or I’m just gonna make them up!”

It only took two horrible, horrible lines that Beau made up on the spot before you were giggling.

“No, no!” You laughed. “Daddy—“ Beau’s heart skipped a beat; it had been quite a few years since you’d called him that. “Daddy you’re singing it wrong!”

“Well then you’re just going to have to fix it!” Beau insisted.

You laughed and started singing the lyrics, dragging your dad to the middle of the living room so the two of you could dance along.

The two of you spent three hours like that, dancing and singing until Beau collapsed in exhaustion on the couch, now knowing infinitely more Taylor swift lyrics than he had this morning.

It had gone from the worst birthday ever to the best, with just a little bit of daddy-daughter time.

…

You were sixteen today, and Beau didn’t know where the time had gone. He was divorced now, and he had just moved to be closer to you. He’d had a long argument with his ex about where you’d be going for your birthday, but somehow you’d convinced your mother to celebrate with her tomorrow; he got you on your birthday, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

You’d somehow also convinced him to have your party at the police station—his trailer just wouldn’t do.

Everything was—ironically—cop-themed; you’d stolen your dad’s badge and you were now strutting around the precinct like you owned the place. Pop had set up all your presents on his desk, and Jenny had brought in your cake. There were half a dozen teenagers that had become your friends since you moved, and they seemed to know most of the officers, so there was a lot of mingling going on.

Beau was just happy to see you like this—content, surrounded by friends. He wasn’t used to being here yet, but he figured he’d catch on quick—there were a lot of good people in this room, and he worked well with them.

“Dad?”

Beau turned when he heard your voice.

“What are you doing?”

Beau realized that he’d just been standing in the corner like a creeper, and he tried not to be embarrassed.

“I guess I was just reminiscing. You’ve had a lot of birthdays, kid. Sometimes it surprises me just how many.”

You smiled fondly, and Beau knew you were remembering.

“You always made them special. That’s why I wanted to be with you today.”

“Your mom tries—“

“I know, I mean, I guess. But I don’t want to talk about her. I picked you for today, let’s just have fun.”

Beau grinned; “Hey, give me some of that cake and I’ll start having fun.”

You laughed.

“It’s a deal.”

[souperbloom]

would you be able to write smth with ash or luke abt him and reader trying to get pregnant and they lowk discover he has a breeding kink?? i feel like both of them r the type to want to be fathers so bad so the idea of putting a baby in their girls sends them fckn insane

wrote (most of) this request in the Bahamas, thought i’d put my own spin on it. felt hashtag: inspired.

enjoy <3

————

island time. [A.I.]

🦜 honeymoon!Ashton

freshly married and lost in paradise, you and your husband Ashton make a brand new discovery on your picturesque Caribbean getaway.

a/n: god this is literally the most domestic shit i have ever written (but also not at the same time???) i need to be put down after this one

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut’n’fluff!, brief mentions of drinkin’ & smokin’, exhibitionism/semi-public sex, dirty talk, trying for a baby/mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink (duh.)

the end counts as cockwarming? eye-d-kay!!

WORDCOUNT: TBD

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Light peeks through the silky white curtains of your honeymoon suite, waking you up with the sunshine splashing against your cheeks. You close your eyes tighter, hoping maybe for a second you’d be able to lull yourself back to sleep.

In your daze, you swing your arm over to the side of the mattress, expecting to feel another body lying there. But rather than a broad, sleeping giant, you’re met with a fist full of bedsheets.

You mumble to yourself, finally cracking open your eyes to see that your newly wedded husband, Ashton, was nowhere to be found.

You let yourself sit up fully, only to find a stripped comforter, and a small piece of notebook paper folded neatly in half resting on the pillow beside you.

"Gone surfing. Meet me down by the beach. Love you. x"

That was all that was written, aside from the little animated surfer drawn on the corner of the paper holding his hand in a shaka, and a little speech bubble that read: “Cowabunga, baby!”

You giggle down at the comic, your heart already feeling so full from how amazing this honeymoon has gone so far. It was only day three of your dreamy fifteen-day getaway.

You’d originally agreed to ten but of course, Ashton convinced you otherwise.

It didn’t take long to shimmy out of your pajamas and into that new bikini Ashton had insisted on buying you, down at the little gift shop in the town square. When he saw how your eyes lit up after seeing it on the mannequin, he knew he couldn’t have you go another sunny beach day without it.

So, he snuck down to the gift shop that same night after you went to sleep, and left it beside your pillow the next morning.

The sun had already been up for a few hours, reminding you how surreal it felt to be in such a beautiful, tropical place. Now, as a married woman.

Even the simple task of waking up and rolling out of bed had you feeling like an entirely new person. You were grateful for the days passing slowly, being able to spend much needed quality time with your husband, Ashton.

It still felt crazy, calling him that.

Once you freshened up, lathering lotion on every exposed area of your body and tying up your hair for better access to the sun, you headed down to meet Ashton at the beach.

The crisp morning breeze made you grateful for Ashton’s long sleeve henley top that you had decided to throw on as a coverup, shielding your new bikini from the hotel lobby employees and saving the view for the one who really wanted to see it.

The scent of his cologne lingering on the shirt was a plus, too.

You made your way down the stone pathway towards the beach, already having an idea where your husband would be. It didn’t take long to spot his overgrown chestnut mullet blowing in the breeze, chatting up the bartenders that were working the early morning shift.

As you near, you notice the wetsuit draped on the back of his bar seat, surely used to surf and dried off by now. You creep up to him slowly, taking in the sight of his sandy, bare back and slightly sunburnt shoulders.

The bartender notices you before Ashton does, so you press your index finger against your lips to tell them to keep it a surprise. Although Ash doesn’t drink, he’d made it his mission to befriend every single employee at this resort; just one of the many quirks of his kindhearted soul.

Without a word, you get close enough to latch your arms around his neck, attacking him with a bear hug. Slightly startled, Ashton’s head whips around knowing it was you, yet just double checking to be sure.

"Ah— there’s my beautiful wife," he murmurs sweetly, before slapping a wet kiss on your arm, "G’mornin’, gorgeous."

"Good morning to you too, handsome."

"Y’know, I don’t think I’ll ever get over being able to call you that,” His eyes peer over at your head resting on his shoulder, and you look back with the same amount of love and adoration.

"Get used to it. But don’t wear it out," you jab.

As your arms are still locked around him, you look down and notice the smoke funneling up between his body and the bar.

"Bright and early, huh? A joint to start the day," you hum to him, as he twists around to pull you between his legs.

"You know what they say about the early bird, sweet pea."

There was comfort in knowing that everyone at this bar knew you and Ashton, already having made accordance with each of them. He knew all of their names, as did you. He also snuck around and told them all of your favorite drinks when you weren’t around; Ashton was making it impossible for you to ever want to leave.

"Got a surprise for you." Ashton grabs the bartender’s attention with a quick, yet polite, whistle. He orders you a breakfast mimosa, which makes you giggle, speaking on the fact that you hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet.

"And what might that be?" You ask, traipsing your finger along his thigh right next to the hemline of his navy blue swim shorts, "Is it another bikini? Because I’ve already got one of those."

"No, it’s much better than a bikini— But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to see that bikini on you right now." He grabs your hips, pulling you to sit between his legs on the barstool.

You chuckle quietly, satisfied to know him like the back of your hand. "Well, I guess today’s your lucky day."

After a few minutes of back and forth with your bartender friend and a couple of weak sips to your mimosa, Ashton pats your hip as a signal for you to dismount the barstool and follow him.

He’s very quiet in doing this, giving you shoddy answers to your curious questions and leaving no room to the imagination as you walk hand in hand along the beach.

"I’m gonna cover your eyes at some point, but promise me you won’t start screaming for help or anything like that," He jokes and you scoff, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I would never. Plus, what’s a surprise without a bit of kinky blindfolding?"

"Mimosa’s doing its job already I see," he says with a grin, “Maybe I won’t need to cover your eyes— you’ll be seeing stars by the time we get there."

"Are you calling me a lightweight? You’re the one that’s trying to get me drunk at ten in the morning!"

You’re starting to reach unfamiliar territory on the beach now, watching the beachgoers slowly dwindle to only a few straggling joggers and surfers.

"Nobody’s trying to get you drunk, sweet pea. You just gotta learn to let loose... I thought I’d give you the upper hand and start your morning off with a drink. You’re on island time now."

You shrug as if to say, fair enough, before Ash pulls you tightly into his side. He locks his arm around your head, using his palm to cover your eyes and his body to guide you to the right place. You lose your balance at the sudden loss of vision, but Ashton is right there to catch you, letting you fall into his chest with a giggle.

"Shit, no warning? What the fuck kind of morning have you been having?"

You could practically hear his smile without even having to see it, "A great one. And it’s about to get even better."

A few more steps are taken before Ash is pulling you back to stop you from walking any further. You noticed that he had walked you into the sand, rather than the pathway you had been on the entire time.

"Okay, just a few more steps— easy does it…" He’s holding up your temporarily ailed body, walking you through soft tropical sand. There were moments where you’d misstep, sending your feet tripping right out of your sandals and leaving Ashton to come to your rescue.

"I promise I’m not drunk, my God… Don’t know what’s gotten into me today," you try to cover up your wave of embarrassment with a giggle, and Ash laughs along.

"No worries— Take one more big step for me, okay?"

You take one final comically large step into the sand, and stop when you feel his body come to one as well. His large hand over your face was undoubtedly making you sweat, but you didn’t really have the heart to tell him.

"Are we here?"

“Mhm," he coos, "You ready, sweet pea?"

"As ready as I’ll ever be," you smile.

Suddenly, his hand lifts from off of your face. You’re first met with a blinding light, but as your eyes adjust, you start to take in the scenery.

A lush, empty plot of beach with scattered palm trees and bushes. The crystal clear water blended in with the sky, not a single cloud throughout the entire shoreline.

You look around, confused for a moment, wondering why Ashton had brought you to a random empty plot of beach.

"Did you just walk me in circles to show me what I’ve been seeing for the last three days?"

Ashton lets out a snort, his hands finding your hips in front of you before he places a gentle kiss upon your lips.

"You’re funny. Turn around."

With his hands to help spin you, you turn around, faced with something you had been begging for since the moment you touched down in the Caribbean.

A private cabana.

"No. Fucking. Way!" You squeal excitedly, accidentally ripping yourself from his grasp to run up to the three little steps, "And here I am sounding like a fuckin’ dickhead—"

Ashton shrugs, "You learned from the best… Go ahead. Check it out."

He stands cross armed with a smug smile, watching you run laps around the cabana. You take in the dark wooden support beams and blue linen that surrounded them. There was a sheer white curtain in place of a door, and fairy lights strung on the outside. You’d seen them around the beach in the passing days, but you swore this was prettier than any of the ones you’d seen so far.

"Ash, it’s fucking gorgeous!" You gush, standing to the side of it and hugging one of the wooden beams.

"Wait ‘till you see the inside. C’mon," he holds out his hand walking towards you, and you take it gleefully. When you make your way up the steps, Ashton pulls back the curtain and slides them open just enough for the two of you to walk in.

A king sized beach bed sat between two wicker bedside tables. Sun rays shone through the straw roof, leaking light onto the power blue sheets

And on one of the little beside tables, two breakfast plates.

"So, you did have a reason for getting me that mimosa," You chuckle, fluttering down onto the bed while still taking in the interior.

"I had good intentions… Too bad you drank the whole thing before we got here,” says Ashton, plopping down next to you.

"If I’m on island time now, why wait?"

Ashton snakes his arm over your shoulder, the two of you watching the palm trees sway in the late morning winds, and listening to the ocean crash against the shore. You lean your head on his shoulder, taking in a deep breath.

"This is just— beautiful, Ash. Thank you for doing this."

"Anything for you, sweet pea. Making you my wife was only half the battle. You know I’d give you the world if you asked. A beachside cabana is nothin’."

Your heart swells at his kind words, feeling so overflowed with love that you have no choice but to tackle him onto the bed with a kiss.

It’s slow at first, his lips slotting against yours quickly and finding the rhythm you claim. But as your tongues entwine, the kiss deepens. His hands find your waist, pulling you onto his lap and spreading his legs to give you a place to rest your hips.

"Baby," you hum, giggling while Ashton’s lips are occupied by the nape of your neck, "What about breakfast?"

"Breakfast can wait. You're only thing I wanna’ be tasting right now."

Although flustered by his words alone, you pull away to look at him, a soft sigh escaping his lips at the lack of you. You proceed whack him on the chest, trying to keep alive the magic of the beachside cabana without getting too distracted by your hunk of a husband.

Well, at least not just yet.

”Breakfast cannot wait! Don’t let my friskiness ruin the amazing morning you planned. We’ll get back to it soon enough."

His bottom lip is caught between his teeth in a pout as he is about to protest, but you cut him off with a disapproving gaze.

"You had me last night and you still want more?"

"Always want you. This is nothing new."

The way he seamlessly draws you back into a kiss seemed impossible, how suddenly you were pulled right back to where you, your body, and mind were last night.

And the night before. And the night before that.

Your heart begins to race when his teeth sink into your bottom lip, pulling down agonizingly slow and testing every last bit of your decorum. You whine into him, gripping his chest so roughly that little crescent etchings are left in the place of your fingernails.

"Ash—," you whimper, barely pulling enough air from your chest to utter his full name.

"I hear you baby, I hear you…"

Ashton could tell you were getting greedy, from the way your hips ground down into his. How the friction of his bulge held captive in his swim shorts was giving you just the right amount of pressure you needed.

You didn’t care about a good breakfast, or why Ashton was refusing one. Not anymore. You didn’t care about anything.

Except for him.

The kiss picks back up and suddenly, you weren’t even sure how, the henley top that was once clad to your back was now strew across the floor. Ashton’s hands roamed up your sides, grasping at your ribcage as you continued to swivel your hips.

"So fuckin’ perfect—" Ash mumbles, in a dreamlike state that made his gritty voice sound even deeper. Music to your fucking ears. "And, you’re wearing the hell outta’ that bikini."

"Whatever my husband wants, my husband gets," you muse, bottom lip tender from the incessant nipping.

After a few more minutes of tender kisses and tugs at your bikini strings, Ashton's motions had grown more ravenous.

"Well, your husband wants you to take it off," he teases, continuing the soft banter from before and shifting the both of you up towards the headboard.

"I think that could be arranged," you reply, watching the little streaks of sunlight from above create patterns across his bare chest, "Wanna do it for me?"

"You know I fuckin' do."

He couldn't get the words out fast enough before he was pulling the strings and the bikini top was falling between your bodies, exposing your bare chest to his hungry, wandering eyes.

"My god, that never gets old," he gawks, reaching his hands up with no time to waste and taking your nipples between his fingers.

The action alone draws a moan from the back of your throat, and makes you grind down onto his hips hard enough to feel his hard-on practically popping out of his swim trunks. It had been a long and rather busy few days out on the island with Ashton. And you'd be lying if you said that the two of you weren't on a... mission.

Is it really that cliché to try for a baby on your honeymoon?

"Baby," you moan, breathless, smitten, "please. Now. We— we have to—"

Ashtons eyes widen at your subtle command, shoulders tensing at those subdued words and piecing together exactly where your head was at.

"Yeah, yeah... I've gotcha sweet pea."

It was your turn to be the dominant one now, ordering him around with your eyes as he slowly lifted you off of his hips and began to slide out of his swim trunks. You sat and waited patiently, perched on your knees with a wicked smile.

Ashton's excitement at your tries for pregnancy never failed to make you swoon; could've been because you were ovulating, or because you were so infatuated with the idea of starting a family with him. Either way, neither of you were complaining.

"Lay down f'me?"

His words break your spell and suddenly you're following his command. You shift and rest your head against the fluffy down pillows, running your hands along your chest towards your midriff.

Ashton’s blistered palms make headway up your thighs, prying your legs open like he was parting those crystal blue waves you’d been swimming in all week. His eyes feast on your sprawled out figure, examining each and every dip and curve.

"God, you’re beautiful. Could’ stare at you all day, sweet pea." He breaths shakily, his head sort of reeling, like a mental game of ping pong. He wasn’t sure where to start with his pretty girl, and it was so, so obvious.

"Don’t have time for that baby," you purr, watching him slither around you delicately as though you were made of porcelain, "Need you— now."

"You need me now? Since when did you start calling the shots around here?" Ashton chuckles, the shade of his honey green eyes slightly flickering to that of a foggy forest.

Right as you’re about to open your mouth to reply, his grip on your thighs tightens. You help out in pleasure, then quickly clamp your lips shut as he settles himself between your legs.

His chest presses against the sheets and his face is now inches away from your core, pulsing and aching through your swimsuit bottoms and practically screaming for his attention.

"Such a pretty angle. Love seein’ you like this," he drawls, his gaze pointed at where you needed him most.

A gentle whimper gets caught behind your teeth as you attempt to shift beneath him, only making that grip he had on your legs tighten just a bit more.

"Tryin’ t’ fight your way out of this, aren’t you?" he mocks, moving his hands to the inside of your legs and firmly pressing your knees down to the mattress, "You can’t go all shy on me now, sweet pea."

There was something predatory about the way he was acting; stalking like he was on the hunt for just a bit more than the feeling of you wrapped around him. He wanted to savor this moment, this fun little game of cat and mouse.

"Ashton, please," you beg.

Either he was choosing to ignore you or he didn’t hear it at all, but your plea remained empty as his head ducked down to press a kiss below your naval.

"Gonna’ fill you up real’ nice..." he groans into your flesh, teeth nipping at the delicate skin, "Would you like that? Want me to fill you up with my cum, baby?"

You nod sheepishly, resorting to tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as his teasing continues.

"Gotta use those words, beautiful. I know you’ve got a mouth on ya’."

"Yes," you blurt, "I’m— I’m ready. Please, fill me up baby, please."

His eyebrows raise in amusement and the death grip he once had on your knees finally loosens. He uses his arms to stalk towards you, crawling up your body so that the two of you met at eye level.

"Say that again for me?"

As you open your mouth to repeat the words that descended your husband into madness, you feel a broad hand sneak between your legs and push your swimsuit bottoms to the side. His finger slips between your dripping folds, running a line up and stopping to gently toy with your clit. The steadfast eye contact remained.

"Are you paying attention, sweet pea? I said, say it again."

You stutter for a moment, unable to coherently collect the words on your tongue as he continued to tease you. "Baby please— Want you t’ fill me up—"

"Gonna’ make you mine, sweet pea. I promise. And since I did it already then fuck it baby, I’ll do it again."

His tip prods at your entrance while your eyes frantically dart across the various features on his face. You watch his plump lips part slightly, and the notch in his brow grow more prominent as he savors that first stroke.

The two of you sigh in unison, in bliss, at that first initial feeling of him filling you perfectly. He has no choice but to gaze into your eyes, the ones that had been looking at him with equal admiration this entire time.

"Fuck, baby— so fuckin’ tight n’ ready for me, yeah?"

His starting thrusts are slow, each stroke hitting deeper within your lower abdomen and creating pressure throughout your entire body. You hold your breath, savoring that feeling before letting it out with a labored groan.

"F-feels so good, Ashton. Can— can feel you everywhere."

What you were saying hardly made any sense; but that never mattered to Ashton. All he knew was that the feeling of his cock meticulously hitting that sweet spot every time was enough to get you buzzed.

Love drunk, if you will.

"Takin’ my cock so well. Like such a good girl. How fuckin’ perfect you are, baby— and you’re all mine."

The eye contact between you was blazing, the heat radiating off of his cheeks flushing against yours. You could barely keep your eyes open as his hips began to snap faster and faster, his breathing becoming more gritty and labored.

"Ashton, baby, oh my God— please—" you cry out, the wooden bed frame now shaking and whacking against the walls of the cabana with the force of his limitless thrusts.

"Feels good, sweet pea? Gonna fill you up with my fuckin’ cum, baby. Gonna fill you up n’ fuck it into you nice and deep. You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine."

You take your hands and cup his face, watching his pupils bounce as his lips weave into a wicked smile. Sweat slicked his forehead as he looked down on you, eager to please you and so satisfied with the way you’d been falling apart.

"Fuckin— touch yourself. Please, God— touch yourself for me, pretty? Wanna hear more of those sweet sounds you make."

Your jaw drops, as does your hand from his cheek. Your hand then moves to finds your clit in record time, and you begin to rub it in quick circles. The simple action causes an electric shock to run down your spine, only amplifying the pleasure going forward.

"Gonna cum together, yeah?" asks Ashton, who had resorted to tucking his head into the crook of your neck and occasionally biting down on the meat of your collarbone, "Gonna’ cum with my girl— fuck, baby. You feel incredible."

"Mmmh."

You only find enough strength in you to hum as the speed of his thrusts increases. It was hard to take your eyes off of him and surely the feeling was mutual; it had become a competition of who could look at the other with the most love and devotion.

"Fuck, I’m close—" Ashton blurts, his voice weakening, "Ready for me, baby?"

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck yes," you cry out, still pawing circles at your clit as the rhythm you once claimed grows sloppy.

"Want you t’ feel my cum so deep inside you, my girl… Been so fuckin’ good t’me. Always are."

The two of you groan, loudly. It echoes and bounces off of the quaint walls of the cabana as Ashton finally releases inside of you. You could feel his liquid pooling, mixing with the juices of your own arousal and God, did it feel incredible.

A collective sigh is shared not long before Ashton dips down again to place another kiss onto the sweet spot of your neck, "Ashton, baby— oh my God."

"Gonna’ put that baby in you, sweet pea. Can fuckin’ bet on it," he states. A groan mixed with some sort of pathetic whine as he slowly pulls half of his length out of your pussy.

Right as you’re about to let out a sigh of relief, he rams himself back into you.

"Fuck!" you cry, pinching your eyes shut for the first time since this whole ordeal has started. He was awfully cocky about it all but then again, it wouldn’t be Mr. and Mrs. Irwin without a bit of a boast.

"Feel that? That to me feels like a success," Ashton gloats, his eyes mocking your tightly knit brows and scrunched up nose.

A chuckle falls past your lips as you relish in the feeling; you and your husband becoming one soul. You can’t seem to get your attention to stray away from the mousy brown curls that had flopped out of their style and into his eyes. How obscenely intimate it felt to be this close to your husband in all of his glowing, sweaty, post-sex glory.

"That doesn’t mean we can’t try again tomorrow," you tease him, brushing a rogue curl from his eye, "We’re still here for another week and a half."

"If it were up to me, we’d do this every day. But, I don’t wanna wear you out. Husband and wife now, yanno? Gotta make sure you can, uh— keep up."

The two of you chuckle and sigh, basking in the feeling of his cock still buried inside of you and sharing the love of the intimacy.

"Hey, I think I could keep up with your beastly self. You’ve just gotta give me the chance to prove it."

Ashton spares you a warm smile, the same smile that won you over the first time you’d ever met him.

"I love you, baby."

"God, I love you more."

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[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

The Story of Us

Timeless (pt.4)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Epilogue

Words: 1.2k+

Warnings: too fluffy and too sweet, might make you sick

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The flash of lights stirs you from sleep when the power turns back on in the early hours of the morning. A lazy groan sounds close to your ear, its breath tickling the hair on your neck. A sleepy smile crosses your face before you even open your eyes.

You roll in Javier's arms, still pulled tight against his bare chest as you had been all night since falling asleep. Kissing the tip of his nose, you whisper, “Good morning.”

Blearily, Javier's eyes flutter open and crinkle at the edges when he smiles at the image before him. In his arms is the girl he’s always dreamed of, with a voice like honey and hair tangled by sleep and the hands he’d run through it the night before. Still next to him on the heap of blankets and pillows you’d made love in while a storm raged on around you.

“Morning, mi amor,” he yawns before leaning in for a deep, slow kiss like he's committing your topography into the memory of his DNA. You let him, and you do the same, savoring the plush pout of his lips and sweep of his tongue against your own.

The kiss breaks, and you yawn, finally stretching and examining the room around you. “How about we blow these candles out before we burn my house to the ground, huh?”

Before you can get up, Javier slings a heavy around your shoulders and pulls you in to nuzzle in the crook of his neck, “5 more minutes,” he pleads.

You give in.

---

As the morning wears on, there's a giddy, almost nervous energy between you. While you get dressed, blow out candles, and fold blankets, you steal glances at each other, giggling when you catch one another in the act.

As you sit for breakfast and finally have a chance to talk, your nerves become real, but only for a moment.

Chewing on a piece of buttered toast, sitting across from Javier, you begin, “So…”

“So what?” he teases, a smirk on his lips when he senses your shyness.

“Where does this leave us?” you ask nervously, but don’t sugarcoat it; if ever there was a time to be blunt, it's now.

Javier sets down his coffee mug, his face losing the mirth it just had, and settles into something more serious.

“Everything I said last night, I meant every single word, but,” he sighs, “I’m still head of the team taking down the Cali cartel, and that means danger for me and anyone I care about. Last time, I took the choice away from you, but now the choice is yours. If you’ll have me, I’m yours for the rest of our lives.”

He lets loose a nervous sigh, as if he has any reason to worry.

You reach across the table and place your hand atop his own, interlacing your finger before saying, “Javier Peña, I told you last night. I’m all in, no matter what.”

“I’ll make sure every second is worth it,” he promises, squeezing your hand in his for emphasis. “I love you.”

And when you look into his eyes, you know it's true.

“I love you too.”

---

A short year and a half later, Javier keeps good on his word and takes down the head of the Cali cartel empire.

And, when his superiors come crawling back again, begging Javier to sacrifice himself to yet another one of their wars, he turns them down.

Knowing you're there to love him unconditionally, all his best qualities, and the darkest parts of his soul, he finds courage and the strength to break his path of self-destruction.

Finally, despite Javier's insistence that he’d changed over the years, that he was no longer the man you once knew, and that he’d done bad things and played a hand in numerous deaths, he chooses to live for more.

---

7 years later - Laredo, Texas  

A cool fall breeze blows across the Texan countryside, ruffling your hair as you sway back and forth on your porch swing, reading your book in the last few minutes of daylight.

“Dinner’s ready,” your husband calls from inside your home as he sends your oldest to come fetch you from the porch.

The little boy pokes his head around the corner of the door, eager to beckon you inside to the meal they’ve prepared you tonight. “Come on, momma,” he says sweetly, his big brown eyes the same shade as his father's, alight with excitement.

“Coming, Matteo,” you say, using all your strength to push up and out of the porch swing and find your balance before following him inside.

It wasn’t the most graceful dismount, but considering you’re 8 months pregnant and your fingers are so swollen you had to take off your wedding rings so they don’t have to be sawed off your fingers, you have a pretty good excuse. Your feet are just as swollen; you don’t even wear shoes now as you waddle inside to join your family.

What you see when you turn the corner and enter the kitchen nearly brings tears to your eyes.

Javier flashes you a dazzling smile as he bounces your youngest, Maria, in his arms as he sets the table for dinner. Matteo races over to sit at the table, pointing excitedly so you can look at the meal he helped prepare with his father for the family tonight.

Slowly but surely, you waddle through your home, passing pictures on the wall that capture moments of your life together. A picture from your wedding day when your two families finally met for the first time, one of Javier and his father Chucho building the frame of the house you now walk through, and one of the moment your son was born, his tiny body held in your arms as Javier smiles above the both of you.

 And somewhere, tucked away in a scrapbook with hundreds of more memories, is a small polaroid, now weathered and faded by time, that Javier held on to through the years, from the very beginning of your journey together.

You make it to the kitchen table and sit with a sigh of relief, eager to be off your feet.

Javier steps over, leaning in to kiss your cheek, and in his smooth, surly voice, he coos, “Happy anniversary, Esposa.”

Happy tears well up in your eyes, a testament to your immense joy and overactive hormones. Everything is as it should be; you know it in your heart.

Javier made good on his promise; every second you’ve spent together since you reunited has been worth it. Every moment is filled with joy, love, and understanding, the likes of which make you feel incredibly blessed.

You savor every moment spent together, though the fear of ever losing him never resurfaced; he became wholly devoted to you and you to him. Your last kiss will be the day one of you leaves this earth, with the other sure to follow swiftly due to a broken heart.

Though the journey to now had been long and hard at times, you know in your heart it was meant to be. It was a journey you had to take, to rediscover a love that had endured against all odds, a love that never truly left you, only laid dormant in the depths of your heart.

No matter the circumstances, you would have found your way back to each other, your fates entwined from the day you were born. In any lifetime, he’d find you and you him. Your love is timeless; it will stretch on into infinity, reincarnate, and begin again. This was it, the story of us.

Thank you to everyone who read, liked, shared, and commented throughout this series! This story originally began as a sad/angsty one-shot, but I crave a happy ending; thus, The Story of Us was born.

This is my very first completed series, and I'm so proud of how it turned out :,) I hope you enjoyed the journey.

Love you lots! - KT

*everyone say thank you to TSwift for her Speak Now album. It’s always been a personal favorite of mine and it inspired this whole story obviously*

*Also, since this is a mini series, things wrapped up quick and lots of moments between Javi and reader were left to the imagination or summed up quickly within the main story. So, if anyone is ever interested in a drabble or extra scene from some of their times together not mentioned in the story just ask and I'd be happy to provide. I feel like I could write a million things about these two.*

[dangerous-disposition]

Oooo number 30 for Steddie, please and thank you!

Aaaah thank you for sending me one of these!! Please have this little Modern!AU type moment based based very vaguely off of my experience waiting for my tires to be changed at Costco last week. 30. "Can I sit here? All the other tables are full."

[ NOW ON AO3 ]

Eddie jumped as a hand came between him and his notebook and he looked up into the face of the hottest guy he had ever seen. He blinked up into his hazel eyes for several seconds while Iron Maiden crooned in his ears, already imagining the white-picket-fence with the stranger. Then the man cringed a bit and waved awkwardly.

"Oh, shit," Eddie said, probably too loudly, as he took one of his earbuds out. "What's up?"

"Can I sit here?" the guy asked, gesturing to the empty bench across from Eddie. Then he looked around and added, "All the other tables are full."

Eddie glanced around the little food court and it was indeed busy. Every single table was occupied, though Eddie did raise an eyebrow at just how many single-occupant-tables the guy passed just to get to his.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead," Eddie said, popping his earbud back in and going back to his notebook. If Eddie paused his music so he could hear if the dude tried to get his attention again, that was his business.

The guy sat down gratefully and immediately pulled out his own cellphone and earbuds. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw the man fiddling with his phone and earbuds, before he sighed heavily and put the earbuds away.

Taking his earbud out again, Eddie asked, "Something wrong?"

The man jumped and looked over at him, a blush starting to stain his cheeks. "No, nothing just the stupid adapter for my headphones is busted apparently," the guy said, then added with a wry grin, "I just get to listen to the beautiful soundtrack of a warehouse for the next hour and a half."

"What's got you stuck here for that long?" Eddie asked.

"Getting my tires changed," he replied, looking down at his phone. "What are you sitting around here for?"

"It's the cheapest air-conditioned joint to loiter in for a few hours. Can't beat a buck for a hot dog," Eddie replied with a smirk.

The guy laughed and Eddie decided he really liked the sound of it. "Anyway, didn't mean to bother you. I'll leave you alone now," he said after a bit, glancing shyly up at Eddie through his lashes as he idly texted someone.

"Not a bother at all," Eddie insisted and added, "I'm Eddie, by the way."

"Eddie," the guy repeated, as if testing how his name felt. Then he smiled as it passed whatever test and said, "I'm Steve."

"Well, Steve, I have an extra earbud if you want to listen to music with me," Eddie offered, and Steve glanced down at his outfit skeptically.

"I don't think we listen to the same music," Steve said teasingly.

"That wasn't a no, though. And maybe you'll learn to like a few new things," Eddie pointed out, and Steve rolled his eyes a bit and accepted the earbud.

Wiping it off on the bottom hem of his shirt quickly, Steve said, "I haven't shared earbuds with someone like this since high school."

"Exciting, isn't it?" Eddie said as he started scrolling through his playlists.

"Just don't play anything with a lot of screaming," Steve said, grimacing when Eddie looked up at him with just his eyes. "Please," he added awkwardly.

"No problem, Stevie," Eddie said with an easy smile, and he put on the playlist he made of metal music specifically for his best friend Chrissy.

The two of them spent the next hour listening to and talking about music, with Steve adding several songs to his own playlist, until Steve got the call that his car was ready. As Steve started to gather his things, he leveled a thoughtful look at Eddie.

"Hey, this was fun. Do you want to hang out sometime?" Steve asked, and Eddie's eyes widened a bit. Steve seemed to second guess himself and shook his head. "Actually, nevermind, forget I said anything."

"Yes! Yeah, I'd- yes, let's hang out," Eddie babbled as his brain reconnected. "Are you busy right now?" he asked before he could stop himself, and internally he fantasized about a hole opening up beneath him. Way to sound overeager, weirdo.

But Steve just turned a pretty shade of pink and smiled, glancing away. "I've got work in a couple hours, but here's my number," he said, sliding a napkin across the table and Eddie stared at it.

"When did you write this?" he asked, a bit dazed as he looked back up at Steve. Now the man was smirking. Oh, Eddie had thought he was the one being smooth the whole time.

"Before I even walked over," he admitted easily before returning Eddie's earbud and standing up.

"Is your headphone adapter even broken?" Eddie asked, his own face hot enough with his blush to cook an egg.

"Oh, it's absolutely broken," Steve laughed, reassuring him only a little bit. Then he pointed at the napkin. "Text me?"

And then he was walking away, leaving Eddie alone at the table to grin stupidly down at the napkin. Steve probably hadn't even made it to the tire center before Eddie sent his text.

This was so silly but aaaaaaah I hope you like it!!! These are fun, send me more?

If you like my writing, consider checking out my writing blog? -> @gerrystamour

[imaginedisish]

Sparks (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: HELLLOOOO everyone!!! Here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This is my first fic in a few months so please forgive me. I am exhausted, and I’ve been writing this throughout my day (may or may not have been writing and editing in class). Thus, this may be incredibly sloppy. I am so sorry. HOWEVER, this is incredibly SMUTTY so minors SCRAM! I hope you guys enjoy. The song I reference is “Sparks” by Coldplay and it very much inspired this....but so did Cardigan by Taylor Swift. Anyway...enough of me talking...ENJOY!

Summary: Din looking out for you turns into so much more than either of you could have ever imagined (featuring *there’s only one bed*). 

Warnings: Major pining, Jedi!reader, SMUT so 18+, cursing, PIV, fingering/oral (f!receiving) no mentions of birth control so WRAP it before you TAP IT FOLKS, references to canon typical violence and injuries, idiots to lovers, crest still exists bc im a lazy writer... I think that’s it...

Word Count: 3,221

The stars flash by the Crest in a streaky, messy blur. The light reflects off the beskar clad man next to you. The conversation had died down a half an hour ago. Now you and Din sat in warm, comfortable silence. You should really head to your bunk, but you don’t want to. You’re fighting to keep your eyes open at this point. You feel like a child on the back of a speeder, confidently telling their parents they aren’t tired, that they won’t fall asleep on the way home this time. Every second you get with Din counts, even if it means falling asleep in the cockpit and waking up with a sore back. The uncomfortable chair was worth the reward of just being next to him.

But you’d never let him know that. You couldn’t.

It probably went against his code. Or even worse, there’s always the chance he doesn’t feel the same. The thought alone makes your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. You quickly shake it off and glance over at Din. His visor is set on the deep space in front of you.

“You’re tired,” He says, his modulated voice breaking the silence.

“No, I most certainly am not,” You jokingly insist, shifting slightly underneath the blanket he had gotten for you just a few minutes ago.

“Sure you aren’t, cyar’ika,” He chuckles softly. He knows he’s right, and you do too. But you don’t want to fall asleep, not now. Not when he’s next to you, teasing you, leading you on. It doesn’t matter if this ends in heartbreak. You just want to be with him, to hear his voice, to feel him near you.

You smirk at him, and you hope he’s smirking back underneath that helmet of his. “I’m fine, really,” You insist, your smirk turning into an appreciative smile. He nods and turns back towards the stars ahead.

You quietly wish he was still looking at you.

And then, he breaks the silence again. “Your back is gonna hurt tomorrow if you fall asleep out here,” He says softly, intently. Your heart drums away rapidly in your chest. “Don’t need you getting more hurt than you already do because of me…” He trails off. There’s a sense of sadness in his voice. “I’m supposed to look out for you.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about. The blaster shot, just a week ago. Your hand finds its way underneath your shirt, rubbing softly at the wrap Din had resecured over the injury earlier this morning while you were still on Tatooine.

“Din,” You whisper, inching to the edge of your chair to be closer to him. “I’m here because I chose to be, because I want to be,” You pause for a second to stop yourself from giving away more than you mean to. “And I’d be getting into trouble no matter what, with or without you,” You joke. It was true. Maybe it wouldn’t be bounty hunting, and it certainly wouldn’t be Jedi stuff like your parents had tried to force you to learn throughout your childhood, but it would’ve been something.

If you were to be completely honest, one thing you’re fully convinced of is that whatever it would be, it would always be with Din, in every universe, every timeline. Something called you to him, clung you to him. The stars, the force, something. Whatever it was, it kept you here.

He turns his helmet towards you and stares in silence for a few seconds. Your heart flutters uncontrollably in your chest at the attention. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks. He takes a hand off the controls and reaches towards you, resting his hand on your own.

“Thank you,” He mutters through his vocoder. He’s rarely ever this open, this vulnerable with you.

“You don’t have to thank me for being honest,” You whisper, practically unintelligibly. Your nerves are getting the best of you. One more move from Din and you’ll melt into a puddle of words you’ll never be able to take back.

He squeezes your hand softly and pulls away. Somehow, your hand has never felt colder than it does in this very moment.

After a few minutes, his voice fills the cockpit once again. “Just don’t fall asleep out here, ‘kay? Take the bunk if you’re tired. You need rest.” Despite the modulator there’s a warmth in his voice. You could swear there’s even a hint of care, possibly even love…

No, You think to yourself. Maybe you should head to the bunk. Maybe you do need space from Din. What are you supposed to do when you can’t hold these stupid feelings back anymore? What are you supposed to do when the inevitable happens, when he delivers that final crushing blow, ‘I don’t feel that way about you, I’m sorry.’ You stare off into the distance. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You were doomed from the start. So foolish, so fucking foolish, You think.

“You okay?” Din’s words yank you from your thoughts. He’s staring at you again, and you’re more than positive that there’s a look of concern hidden beneath that visor.

All you can muster is a quiet yes and a subtle nod. Din nods back, but you know he’s not quite buying it. He looks towards the control panel, quickly flicking some lever on. Your eyes are too heavy to pay attention to what he’s actually doing. “I know I’m not as…open as you,” He pauses for a second, debating what to say next, “But if something’s wrong, I’m here. You can talk to me.”

“I know,” You whisper back. And Maker, did you want to.

The cockpit finally succumbs to comfortable silence once again. Despite your endlessly wandering mind, it was even harder to stay awake now. Thinking about all the possibilities and paths was far too overwhelming. It took up more energy than you had. So, just as Din expected, you drift off to sleep, your exhaustion finally taking hold.

He looks over at you, curled up against the co-pilot’s chair, laying on your side, facing him. You had fallen asleep; he knew you would. You always did. Din smirks, you never did listen. He loved that about you, your stubbornness, your independence. He knows you can’t stay like that though, sleeping on that rigid chair, but he doesn’t want to wake you up. You barely sleep enough as it is.

He stands up from the pilot’s chair and walks over towards you, carefully taking your legs under one arm and your upper body under the other. He scoops you up and walks out of the cockpit and towards the one and only bunk on the Crest.

You can feel the cold beskar against your side, your skin slightly exposed as your shirt rides up your stomach. You absent-mindedly nestle into Din’s chest, your eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Din?” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck. Part of you thinks this isn’t real, that you’re dreaming, and you’ll wake up in the co-pilot’s chair alone.

He shushes you softly, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your shoulder. “I’ve got you, cyare.” His voice is calmer than usual, more relaxed. “You fell asleep in the cockpit.” He approaches the bunk, loosening his hold on you ever-so-slightly as he carefully places you down onto the bed. But you don’t let go of him, you want to keep him close.

Once he’s sure you’re secure in the bunk, his hands slide out from under your body and up to where your arms rest around his neck. He doesn’t let go. It isn’t until you feel his fingers brushing against your bare arms that you realize his gloves are off.

Maybe now is the time to test the waters. You can feel the word vomit coming up, burning your metaphorical and emotional esophagus. And Maker, do you wish he’d just lay down with you, sleep next to you. Maybe the risk is worth the reward.

“Would you stay with me?” The words finally leave your lips. You’re shocked at your ability to ask a question like that. You had never shared the bunk before. One of you always slept in the cockpit. “You should rest too,” You say, trying to cover up your true intentions.

Din shifts a bit in his spot, but he still doesn’t let go of you. You can see the gears turning in his head. “Okay,” He decides. You practically gasp with shock, and you embarrassingly do your best to hide it.

He takes his armor off, but not his helmet, like he always does. You’ll never get over how he looks without his chest plate, his broad shoulders, his tan skin. You move further into the bunk, giving Din space to climb in next to you. He shuts the door to the bunk, and only once the tiny space has been encased in darkness does he remove his helmet.

You’re up against one another, face to face, no space in between – not even an inch. You’d never been with him when he didn’t have his helmet on. Your stomach does a backflip at the thought that he feels safe taking it off with you, even if it’s in the darkness.

He hesitantly drags his hand up to your waist, resting it softly just above your hip. “Is this okay, cyare?” You had never heard his voice unmodulated. It’s clearer, unadulterated. Honey, golden, but still somehow rough. You want to replay every word that he says.

You hum a yes into the darkness. You nervously bring your hand up to his neck, waiting briefly for him to protest – but he doesn’t. “What’s that mean, cyare?” You ask, struggling to pronounce the word.

He takes a few seconds before answering your question. You can’t help but think that you’ve pressed too far. “Don’t worry about it,” He says finally. Yep, pressed too far, you think to yourself.

You quickly remove your hand from his neck, immediately realizing that you’ve crossed a million boundaries all within a matter of seconds. “I’m sorry I just-,”

He grabs your hand before you can get too far away from him. “It means beloved,” He says curtly. “And cyar’ika,” He pauses, and you can hear him swallow harshly. “It means sweetheart.”

You try not to overthink his confessions, or translations rather. They could just be meaningless pet names that have absolutely nothing to do with how he feels for you. Why get riled up only to be brought back down?

But then again, there’s no avoiding this forever, and there’s no time like the present.

“Din,” You whisper. You’re not sure you can finish your sentence. You can feel his breath brush against your lips. “I…” You trail off, noticing how much the bunk smells like him, musk and spice and something else you can’t quite place.

“What is it, mesh’la?” He asks.

You laugh anxiously to yourself. “You didn’t tell me what that one means,” You say, trying to stall, to buy time.

“I’ll tell you once you tell me what’s on your mind,” He says coolly, as if none of this is affecting him. He knows what he’s doing.

You take a deep breath. “I think about you Din,” You mumble nervously. “All the time, and I think I-,”

He cuts you off, stealing the words from you, as if he could read your mind. “I love you.”

His lips come crashing down onto yours in the darkness. The kiss isn’t rushed or hurried, but there’s a hunger to it, a feeling you’ve never felt before. Din wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him – if that’s even possible.

You’re almost upset when he comes up for air. It isn’t enough, you need more. You want to be forged to him somehow, irreversibly, and irrevocably sealed to one another.

“I love you,” You say to him, breathing heavily, your heart beating out of your chest.

“I know,” He says back, his lips meeting yours once again.

His hand slips under your shirt, his thumbs dragging against your skin. Heat rushes to your core and you can’t help but let out a soft moan – after all, you and Din are far beyond touch starved.

He pushes himself up and over you so that you’re held down underneath him. Your hands explore his entire body, his waist, his stomach, his abs, until you finally reach his face. You find his lips with the tips of your fingers. Din peppers them with kisses as you glide upwards towards his nose, then the bags under his eyes, his forehead. You wished you could see his face, but for now this would do. This was more than enough. This was more than you could have ever asked for.

“Wanted this for so long, cyare,” Din says between breaths. He burrows his head into your neck, nipping at the exposed skin. “Wanted you this whole time,” He says, his lips pressed against your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine.

His hands move further up your body, pushing under your bra. “Please Din,” You mumble. “Need you.” And that’s all the permission he needs. He pushes your shirt up and over your head, throwing it somewhere in the mess of bunk, along with your bra.

He rolls his thumb over one nipple before moving to the other. “You’re so fucking perfect, so beautiful,” He sighs, pinching your nipple slightly before trailing down towards the waist band of your shorts. He tugs on the fabric and dips his hand inside. He feels the outside of your panties, already soaked through. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so wet for me mesh’la.”

You squirm underneath him. You need him to touch you, to do something, anything. “Din,” You mutter. “I-,”

Before you can finish your sentence, he’s yanking your shorts and your panties down your legs. He climbs back over you, his hand trailing up your inner thigh before diving into your folds and settling on your clit.

“Wanna make you come, pretty girl,” He whispers against your ear, his fingers making quick work of rubbing your clit. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing. His words alone could send you over the edge.

You shudder under his touch as he quickens his pace. “Feels s’good,” You moan into his mouth as his lips come down onto yours.

“Doing so good for me,” Din murmurs. “Being such a good girl.” You can feel yourself getting closer and closer as Din’s fingers press harder against your clit, circling faster. You throw your head back and moan his name.

Then, out of nowhere, Din’s hand leaves your heat. You need more, you need to feel him. “Please don’t stop,” You beg shamelessly. The covers shuffle as he moves, and you can feel the weight of the mattress sink a bit.

He doesn’t give you much time to grieve the loss of his fingers, his tongue dragging up the inside of your thigh. “Oh fuck,” You whimper as Din’s mouth meets your heat. You can feel his beard softly scratching against your legs. He brings his fingers towards your folds, pushing inside. “S-shit,” You stutter as Din pumps two fingers in and out of you.

His tongue alternates between swirling around your core and sucking roughly against your clit. “You taste so good, so fucking good,” Din’s voice vibrates against you, making it harder to hold on. “Can’t wait to be inside of you.” His fingers pick up their merciless pace, pumping in and out.

“Din, I-I can’t…” You trail off, unable to finish your sentence. You’re on the brink, you can’t hold back any longer.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” Din coos. He laps at your folds in between sentences. “Let go for me mesh’la.”

You feel your walls tightening around his fingers as waves of searing hot pleasure wash over you. “Din!” You cry out, his fingers still pushing in and out of your folds, his mouth still sucking softly against you. He slows his pace as you come down from your high before finally pulling away from you.

He pushes himself back on top of you, his forehead coming up to rest against yours. You reach down, your fingertips brushing against his erection.

“Need you inside of me, Din, please,” You beg, jerking him off gently through his pants. Din groans audibly, and you stop for a moment to hook your fingers under his waistband. Din helps you, shoving them and his boxers down his legs and casting them off into the mess that you two had made.

He grabs his cock in his hand, jerking it off a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. You can feel the head of his length as he pushes through your folds and sinks all the way inside you. You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as he fills you up. He moans your name, and it hangs in the air, reverberates against the walls of the bunk.

“So fucking tight for me,” He groans, pulling himself out of you to pump back in and bottom out. He’s so deep inside of you, hitting the right spot with each thrust. “You feel so good.” You clench around his length at the sound of his voice.

He reaches down, the tips of his fingers once again finding their way to your clit. Din immediately begins rubbing rough circles, just as he did before. He finds his pace, rutting in and out of you rhythmically. It isn’t long until you feel yourself growing closer to your peak.

“Din,” You sigh, barely able to get a word out. “I’m so close.”

“M-me too, pretty girl,” Din stutters, somehow finding a way to pump into you harder and faster. “F-fuck, taking me so well.” He presses harder into your clit, circling around your core. You bring your hands up to his back, digging your nails down into his skin. It was too much. You could feel yourself getting closer with each thrust. You can feel your walls tightening uncontrollably around him. “That’s it, good girl. Come for me.” And you can’t help but give in.

“D-Din!” You practically scream his name, coming undone around him. You throw your head back, seeing sparks and stars as you hit your peak. Din is close behind, his pace growing sloppier as he comes inside you. He slowly thrusts in and out before pulling out.

He takes a deep breath, his forehead coming down to rest on yours.

“You’re so perfect,” He whispers, his breath ghosting your nose. “Shouldn’t have waited so long to do that…” He trails off, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I love you Din,” You say, still out of breath. “I always have. I would’ve waited longer if I had to.”

He kisses you again, even gentler than last time. “I always knew you’d be the death of me,” He chuckles. You can feel his laugh vibrate through his face, through his whole body. No beskar, no hiding. “And I promise, I will always love you, cyar’ika…

“Always.”

Yeah, I saw sparks

Yeah, I saw sparks

And I saw sparks

Yeah, I saw sparks

[jumpywhumpywriter]

PROMPT: Whumpee (Nico) Drugged for His Own Good part 1

TW: tortured, recovery, escape/rescue, drugged

PROMPT: a whumpee being drugged for their own good, looking up at their friends with fear/anger/betrayal in their eyes.

MY WRITING:

Nico was safe at last, surrounded by friends after months of brutal torture. He'd almost died in that wretched place so many times he'd lost count. But now he was at a familiar building, laying on a bed with his closest friend Marcus watching over him.

Nico had argued that he was fine, but the dozens of viciously-inflicted wounds across his body suggested otherwise. But he didn't want to be a burden. He didn't like to talk about what he went through in those months, but the memories haunted him every second of every day.

He put up a strong facade for his friends, mirroring his once tough-as-nails personality, trying to act normal again, but inside he was broken and afraid. He was afraid to sleep, for the nightmares. Afraid to eat, for the spoiled food he'd had to consume that made him deathly sick. Afraid to bathe, for fear of being drowned.

He was once the strongest member of his team as their leader -- unphasable, the most confident and level-headed of them all... but now... he was a hollow shell of who he once was. He wasn't the great and noble leader he used to be, but he desperately didn't want to let his team down.

He'd already done that once, the moment he'd made the heroic choice to sacrifice his life in place of Marcus's, given himself up to Villain to save his friend's life. That's how it had all happened. All the agony he'd endured... the days of endless suffering... it was supposed to be Marcus. Villain had tortured him for endless hours just to spite him for that sacrifice. Mock him for it. And it had taken months for Nico's friends to track down Villain's hidden hideout and rescue him. He'd been half-dead when they found him, barely clinging to consciousness.

And now here he was, trying to fit back into an old life with new limitations. His left leg had been shredded to bloody ribbons during captivity, so bad that it was hard to even walk a few steps. He'd probably never be able to fight again, lead his friends into battles.

Marcus sat on the edge of the bed he was laying on, gently rubbing his shoulder reassuringly, one of the few places Nico wasn't injured.

Nico had been hit with shrapnel from an explosion when he was at Villain's hideout, when his friends had blown in a metal wall to rescue him. The sharp shrapnel was buried in his abdomen, and his friends insisted he let them do surgery to remove the pieces that were dangerously close to vital organs, but every time he'd refused. He was terrified of the thought of being knocked out, an unreasonable fear because it reminded him of all the times he'd passed out from the agony during torture after screaming his throat raw and bloody, ruining his voice. He hated the thought of being that vulnerable, that exposed again.

But his friends had continued badgering him about it, trying to convince him to let them take the shrapnel out... except for today. For some odd reason none of them had mentioned the shrapnel today, despite constantly talking about it every day prior.

Nico's head pounded with pain, his whole body a vessel of pure agony. He'd been stuck in bed for three days now, barely able to do more than sit up and lay down again.

Marcus stayed with Nico almost every hour, sleeping on the floor just to stay near him and make sure he was still breathing. The guilt must be tearing him apart, knowing that Nico suffered all the pain in his place.

"It should have been me," Marcus said quietly, voice cracking as he rubbed Nico's shoulder.

"No," Nico wheezed, "it was my choice to make. Don't blame yourself for it."

Marcus still looked heartbroken, but he shook his head, reaching to the table at his bedside to pick up a glass of milk. "At least drink something," he offered sadly. Milk and other nutrient-rich drinks had been one of the only ways to sustain Nico, seeing as he couldn't keep any food down.

Marcus helped Nico sit up, and Nico couldn't suppress the sharp cry of pain at even that simple movement, making Marcus wince sympathetically. Nico took the glass with trembling hands and forced himself to drink. He had almost finished, when the room started dimming, and he stared down at the near-empty glass with dawning realization.

"No... you wouldn’t really..." He breathed out the words, tearing his gaze from the glass to stare at Marcus in sheer disbelief, utter betrayal twisting his features at the knowing expression on his friend's solemn face.

"I'm sorry," Marcus whispered, guilt and shame filling his eyes. "But we have to get the shrapnel out before it kills you." He stood up from the bed to stand in front of Nico.

Nico's face was devastated and hurt, before helpless anger took over. With an anguished shout, he summoned what weak strength was left in his ravaged body and lurched to his feet, swinging a punch at Marcus's face. Marcus easily sidestepped the attack, and Nico stumbled, a cry of agony tearing loose from his chest as broken ribs ground together. His legs buckled, the burst of strength gone, and he crumpled. But Marcus caught him before he could hit the floor, holding him up.

"...How could you?" Nico choked out, eyes stinging. The one friend he thought he could trust with his life had betrayed him.

"Because you're not taking care of yourself," Marcus answered softly. "And someone has to keep you alive."

Like a dam that was shattered, all the agony, all the feelings and pain Nico had been suppressing surged to the surface, hitting him all at once. He tried to jerk out of Marcus's grip, but Marcus held him tightly against his chest, limiting his futile struggles.

And then Nico couldn't help it anymore. He broke down, sobbing pathetically, tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn't care anymore if he was falling apart piece by piece in front of his friend, his teammate. Didn't care if Marcus could see his weakness and pain.

Nico's whole body shook and trembled, and another anguished sob escaped him as the world around him grew fuzzy and distant, falling farther away with each passing second.

"It's going to be okay," Marcus murmured soothingly into his ear, the guilt openly edging his voice. "You can let go. Rest."

But Nico was terrified of that lingering darkness creeping over his conscience, if he closed his eyes he might never wake up again. But it was getting harder and harder to fight it. He slumped against Marcus, slowly going limp in his arms even as he cried and sobbed helplessly into his friend's shoulder, the pain overwhelming. It broke Marcus's heart to betray him like this, but it was for his own good.

"No... please don't let me... fall asleep..." Nico begged pathetically, his voice starting to slur and fade.

Marcus's face twisted with regret. "I can't do that, but I can assure you that I'll wake you up when it's over."

"...P-Promise?" Nico croaked, his voice now barely more than a raspy whisper.

"I promise," Marcus answered without a beat of hesitation.

Nico clung to consciousness with everything he had, but the sedatives were too strong, and eventually it slipped out of grasp, tossing his mind into darkness, and he gave up, letting himself go limp. He was distantly aware of his friend gently lowering him to the floor, but nothing more.

Next ⏩️

Masterlist

[undertheorangetree]

Under the God's Eye

Chapter Two- The Drive

Summary- The holiday begins and the drive is less than pleasant.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Female Reader. Classism. Old married couple bickering. There’s only one bed.

Author’s Note- I have no idea how to stick to a post schedule so here’s the next part. Full chapter is on AO3 and feel free to tell me what you think :)

Series masterlist

divider created by firefly-graphics

She feels as though she should be embarrassed when Aemond pulls up outside her building in his Maserati. It's clearly out of place here and if the look on his face is anything to go by, so is he. It isn't that her apartment is bad, but it is only three blocks north of the poorest part of the city, unaffectionately known as Flea Bottom. But the rent had been cheap and it was far enough away that she didn't feel as though she was too close to any real danger. Regardless, it's clear he disapproves from the moment he pulls up to the curb but he keeps his mouth shut as he pops the trunk and helps her maneuver her bag in, even going so far as to open the door for her.

But to hope for peace is too much to ask for, as the moment he sits down back down in the driver's seat, he's talking. "You live here?"

"We can't all afford to live in the Red Keep district," she snaps, already feeling inferior just sitting in his car.

In truth, she doesn't know where he lives, but if the way his cheeks go pink is any indication, her guess isn't too far off.

This already feels like a mistake. It has since the night she agreed to it and he had started texting her. He had given her as much information as he felt that she needed, half heartedly explaining family dynamics and who was likely to be there. He had told her what to pack and, when she had explained that she didn't have any formal clothes, insisted on buying her two dresses that he deemed acceptable. She had declined immediately, adamantly, no less than six times but Aemond had refused to take her no as a final answer. There's going to be a gala with almost every high standing lawyer in Westeros at the end of the month, he had finally snapped. If you want to be taken seriously after you get your internship, you're going to have to look the part. It had almost sounded like a threat when he said it and finals had exhausted her so thoroughly that she had no fight left to give. She had simply given him her measurements and let him do what he will. She wasn't even sure what he bought and he had never bothered to show her. He had simply texted her a bought them and left it at that.

Curious now, she turns her head and looks in the back seat, half expecting there to be two dress bags laying across them. Instead she finds a pet carrier and is just able to make out the grizzled outline of a tortoiseshell cat fast asleep inside.

“Who’s this?” she asks as the car pulls away from the curb.

Aemond glances in the rearview mirror and something similar to a smile makes its way onto his face. “Vhagar. You’re not allergic to cats, are you? There’s going to be a few animals at the cottage.”

“No, but is the drive not a bit much for her? It’s nearly six hours.”

Though she can’t see Vhagar in her entirety, it is clear that she’s not young, with white freckled across her back and the telltale greasy fur of an older cat.

“She’s done it a dozen times before, you don’t need to worry about her.” He looks fondly at the carrier and for a second, the affection he has for his cat brings a smile to her face. The smile dies the moment he speaks again. “What you should worry about is remembering everything I’ve told you. You do remember, don’t you?”

Read the rest here

Taglist- @backyardfolklore @docmartinis @watercolorskyy @barbieaemond @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @aemondsbabygirl

[totowlff]

chapter forty-five — a little reason

➝ the turn of the events make elisabeth realize she needs to give something for her father to fight

➝ word count: 2,7k

➝ warnings: health issues and hospitals

➝ author’s note: happy birthday to elisabeth!

JULY, 2018

It all started with a cough.

Every now and then it would interrupt conversations and make humorous comments about cigarettes and smoke surface, only to be countered with acidity. It didn't take long for it to become part of the garage's ambient sound, along with the pneumatic pistols and engineers' codes, as well as the way he announced his arrival in the spaces, accompanied by a loud throat clearing.

Then came the slightly labored breathing, as if he had been running all the time, which wasn't far from the truth. He was unable to walk at a normal pace, even when his daughter asked him to wait since she was wearing heels.

However, it was Marlene's call, the morning after the German Grand Prix, that made Elisabeth jump out of bed, feeling her heart sink inside her chest.

— What are you saying, mom? — she questioned, part of her begging that what she thought she had heard was a lie.

— It's your father, Elschen — Marlene replied, her nasal voice confirming that she had cried before making that call — He coughed up blood tonight...

— What? Blood? Coughing up blood? — Elisabeth asked, as she sat on the bed.

— When I went to see him in the bathroom, there was blood in the sink and he was choking, Elschen. He just couldn't breathe...

— Mom, where are you? Where? — Elisabeth questioned, her feet leading her to the closet to get something to wear, everything seeming like a big blur because of the tears that accumulated in her eyes.

— We're in the hospital — her mother said before her voice broke. After a heavy sigh, she continued — At the AKH.

— Do my brothers already know? — she asked, grabbing a pair of jeans and a white shirt.

— Yes, I sent them messages. Lukas and Mathias will see if they can leave Ibiza later.

— Okay, I'll leave in a little, I'll be there in half an hour.

When the call ended, Elisabeth was shaking and her cheeks were wet. It was as if the world had stopped spinning in those few minutes, fear gnawing at her chest like acid. That couldn't happen, it simply couldn't, not at that moment, without him knowing that he would be a grandfather again.

— Liesl? — Toto asked from somewhere behind her — Was that your mother on the phone? Did something happen to Niki?

Turning to him, the team principal soon realized that something was wrong.

— He's in the hospital — Elisabeth stammered, drying her face.

He pursed his lips for a few seconds, before running a hand through her messy curls. The look they exchanged was enough for him to understand the gravity of the situation.

— Dress yourself, I’ll take you there — he said, before turning around and going to the bathroom.

Within minutes, the two were already in the car, traveling through the streets of Vienna in the direction of Alsergrund, where the AKH was located. The tension was palpable in the silence that hung between them. Staring at the movement on the sidewalks, Elisabeth could only think about what her father was like at that moment. Would he be conscious or completely unconscious, with a tube stuck down his throat?

It reminded her of her mother talking about the fluid aspiration sessions they did at the hospital right after Niki's accident. Even though doctors said it was not recommended to do the procedure so many times in a row, he insisted, saying that it would help him recover more than waiting for his body to do the work on its own. Niki had already suffered so much in hospitals that the idea of seeing him return was agonizing, not to say desperate, for Elisabeth.

— Liesl — Toto murmured, placing a hand on her leg — Is everything okay?

— Yes, I’m just — she hesitated, placing her hand over his — Worried.

— Did your mother give any details about how he is?

— No, she just asked me to go to the hospital — Elisabeth said, before remaining silent for long seconds — What if he's really sick? What if he's dying?

— Your father isn't dying, Elisabeth — the team principal said, emphatically — He just had a setback, that happens.

—Toto, coughing up blood is not a setback.

— Setback or not, doesn't matter at this moment — he replied — What matters is that you need to stay calm, not just for yourself, right?

Looking at her own abdomen, Elisabeth took a deep breath, pursing her lips. The baby definitely didn't deserve all that load of tension, even though it was the only thing she was capable of feeling at that moment.

After going around the AKH complex, Toto found a space near the hospital entrance, parking the silver Mercedes with caution. As soon as he turned off the vehicle, Elisabeth unfastened her seat belt and opened the door, placing her bag on her shoulder and walking towards the front door.

The automatic doors opened and she headed towards the reception, where a woman was typing something on the computer, her expression not very interested.

— Hi, I would like to see a patient.

— Name? — she asked, without looking up from the screen.

— Oh, it's Andreas. Andreas Nikolaus Lauda.

The woman made a few clicks and typed something on the keyboard.

— Relative?

— I'm his daughter.

— And I'm his son-in-law — someone said behind her. Looking over her shoulder, Elisabeth saw that Toto had arrived, still a little out of breath.

— The patient was admitted to the emergency room and is currently being treated — the woman said, without any emotion in her voice.

— Can I see him?

— Visiting hours are from three in the afternoon — the employee replied, without looking at her. Suddenly, Elisabeth felt her throat tighten, the anguish of not being able to see her father for so long making her eyes fill with tears.

— My mother is inside, she asked me to come — she stammered.

— I am not authorized to allow visitors to enter outside visiting hours.

— But…

— Sorry, these are the hospital rules and…

Toto stepped forward, interrupting the woman.

— Look, my fiancée is pregnant, her father was admitted coughing blood and the only thing we want is to have access to her mother and the doctors who are taking care of my father-in-law — he said, in a serious tone — If you don't want to have problems with barring Niki Lauda's daughter from seeing her father, I suggest you let us in.

The woman looked at Toto in surprise.

— Sir, I…

— Will I need to talk to your boss about this?

Pursing her lips, the employee picked up the phone and dialed in some numbers. After a quick conversation, she went back to typing on the computer, printing two labels with the word 'visitor' written in bold letters.

— The emergency department is right ahead, it's marked with a sign — the woman said, holding out her fingers with the stickers towards them.

— Thank you very much — Toto said dryly, taking the stickers.

As she put her identification on her blouse, Elisabeth couldn't shake the horrible feeling that had come over her the moment the hospital employee denied them entry into the emergency room. It was as if all the fear she had managed to keep bottled up inside her was released at once, causing her hands to feel cold and her lower lip to tremble.

Following the signs that hung from the ceiling, she was already imagining the worst-case scenario when her eyes caught a woman with her hair tied in a somewhat familiar way sitting with her back to her.

— Mom? — she said, causing Marlene to turn her face back. Upon realizing that it was her daughter who was there, she jumped up, going over to her and hugging her tightly.

— Elschen — her mother stammered, as the tears finally ran down Elisabeth's face — I'm glad you're here, so glad...

— What happened?

— Your father — Marlene began, her voice becoming too choked to continue for a few seconds. After taking a deep breath, she managed to speak — He has a serious problem with his lungs.

— But, how? He was fine, mom, he was at the race with us...

— It seems that his lungs were already weakened and the cold he caught made everything worse. The doctor said something about bleeding, but I didn't really understand, I was so nervous. He was out of breath, Elschen, completely out of breath...

The description of the moments before her father was hospitalized made Elisabeth's stomach turn. She couldn't imagine the despair Marlene had felt when she saw Niki feeling bad, much less when she received the news that he was in fact sick. It must have been like reliving everything that had happened at the Nürburgring, but with the added factor that she was the one who needed to save him.

Drying her face, Elisabeth allowed Toto to greet Marlene and question her about Niki's health. Upon realizing that she didn't have a lot of information, he decided to go after the doctor in charge of Niki’s treatment, while the two sat in the waiting room, hand in hand, facing the agony of waiting for more news from Niki.

— Mom? — Elisabeth murmured.

— Yeah?

— Do you think my father will…

— No — Marlene interrupted her sharply — You're not going to finish that sentence, Elisabeth.

— But…

— I've seen your father in a worse situation than this. I saw your father completely burned, his skin swollen and blistered. I saw him ask for a priest and tell him to fuck off when he heard the man praying over his bed — she said, seriously — Your father is strong, Elisabeth.

She lowered her head, sniffling. It wasn't the time to think the worst, but she couldn't help it, especially when she thought that maybe he would never meet the granddaughter he had dreamed of so much. When she felt her mother's free hand wipe a tear from her cheek, Elisabeth raised her head.

— Don't worry, darling — Marlene said, caressing her face — He's going to come out of this even stronger.

She limited herself to a smile, as she saw Toto walking towards them with a serious expression on his face. As soon as he sat down, she questioned him about Niki's situation, as well as when they could see him.

— You know that Niki's lungs are not very strong due to the smoke he breathed in at the Nürburgring. And because of this, the flu he caught in recent weeks evolved into inflammation in his lungs and airways. That's why he was short of breath and coughing so much — the team leader explained.

— When are we going to see him? — Elisabeth asked.

— When he is stabilized — Toto replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face — But doctor Idzko is very optimistic, he said that cases like this, no matter how delicate they are, are simple to solve.

Nodding, she just hoped the doctor was right.

A few hours had already passed when a man with white hair and thin-rimmed glasses approached Elisabeth, who was alone in the waiting room, as Marlene was in the bathroom and Toto was in the hospital cafeteria, looking for something to eat.

— Miss Lauda?

— Yes, it's me — she replied immediately, jumping up.

— I'm doctor Christian Hengstenberg, head of internal medicine at the hospital and responsible for the team taking care of Mr. Lauda.

— Did something happen? Is my father okay?

— No, I mean, beyond the obvious, no — the doctor said, smiling — Mr. Lauda is responding well to our interventions in these first hours, which is good news.

That was a relief for Elisabeth, who put her hand to her chest as she let out a heavy sigh.

— Is he breathing better?

— Yes, with assistance, of course, but he is stabilized.

— Can I see him?

The man hesitated for a few seconds.

— Well, I believe we can make an exception for you, but, due to immunosuppression therapy, we will need to take some precautions. Can you come with me?

Elisabeth waved, following the doctor through the hospital corridors with her heart pounding in her chest. After putting on a mask and washing her hands, she was finally led to the door of her father's room.

— A moment, please — Doctor Hengstenberg said, before putting on his mask and opening the door — Mr. Lauda, there is someone here to see you.

She walked in slowly, finding Niki lying on the bed, a catheter in his nose to provide oxygen and an IV access in his arm with medicine slowly dripping out. Without the red cap on his head, Elisabeth's father looked like a different person, much more fragile and delicate with the scars exposed on his head.

— Mauslein — Niki murmured hoarsely. That word was enough to make her eyes fill with tears, while the doctor said he would give them space to talk.

— Hi, dad — Elisabeth replied, approaching the edge of the bed. She wanted to hug him, kiss him, scold him for scaring her. However, she simply took his hand, caressing her skin with her thumb — How are you?

— For a half-dead man? Pretty good.

She giggled.

— Mom said you felt bad last night.

— Yeah, I coughed a little.

— Coughed up blood, I mean.

—That's just a detail...

— It's not a detail, so much so that you're here — Elisabeth countered.

Her father just gave a small smile.

— You know I've been through worse, right? — he asked softly.

— Yeah, I know, dad.

— Then, don't worry. This is a vacation in comparison to those 42 days.

— But that's precisely why you should be more careful — she said, looking at their joined hands — We still have so much to live, dad.

Niki squeezed her fingers lightly.

— And we will, Mauslein. Don't think I forgot I have to take you to Toto next month.

Elisabeth smiled beneath her mask.

— So, about that… It won't be next month anymore.

— What do you mean by that? — Niki questioned, the beeping of the machine that monitored his heartbeat becoming more frequent — Did he break up with you? Or was it you who ended it all? If Toto did anything to you, Mauslein, I swear I will...

— Dad, please, Toto didn't do anything — she said, trying to calm him down — Actually he did, but it's nothing like what you're thinking.

He blinked, confused.

— But…

— When I said that we still have a lot to live, I wasn't just talking about the two of us — Elisabeth whispered, bringing Niki's hand to her belly. As he pressed the skin lightly, he felt the firm spot under Elisabeth's shirt and raised his blue eyes to hers.

— Are you serious? — her father stammered, looking shocked — You mean you two finally decided to give me a granddaughter?

Elisabeth nodded, the words catching in the lump that had formed in her throat. However, it was not the time to cry, not when there was nothing but joy on Niki's face, as she stared at her belly in an enchanted way.

— We still don't know if it's a girl — she finally managed to say.

— Too soon to know? Or is she not cooperating?

She laughed.

— We decided that we will only find out on the day the baby is born.

— Why?

— Because we don't want you to be upset if it's not what you want.

Niki gave her daughter a loving smile.

— I won't be upset — he explained — I'll just be even happier if it's a girl, but what matters is that I'm going to be a grandfather again and...

Her father's voice broke, partly because of the hoarseness and partly because of the emotion that had finally overflowed in his eyes, the tears shyly running down her face. And seeing Niki so moved by the new addition to the family made her sob, tears wetting her mask.

However, there was no sadness. Just happiness.

That moment ended up being interrupted by doctor Hengstenberg, who stated that he needed to take her back to the waiting room to allow Marlene to enter. Looking at her father, Elisabeth ran a loving hand across his forehead, feeling the texture of the scars beneath her fingers.

— You know we can't keep Mrs. Lauda waiting, right?

— Indeed, we can't — Niki smiled at her daughter — Take care of my granddaughter, okay?

— I'll take care of it — she replied, laughing — Any messages for Toto?

— Tell him I'll keep an eye on everything and that I'll be in touch. Oh, and it's better for him to have made a girl, otherwise I'm going to rip his balls off.

— You can't rip his balls off, how will he be able to try to make a girl again if it’s a boy?

Niki was thoughtful.

— Yeah, you're right. But I'll give them at least one kick.

— No, you won't.

— Let's see if I won’t, Mauslein.