#If you find yourself doing this and feeling like you'd press the RED BUTTON if you had access to it without thinking twice

[maxlarens]

Hi! Can i request friends for lovers with lando saying "i can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, [name]." ✨🫶 thank you

usually i am so Consumed by the idea of the ✨Tension✨ of friends to lovers that i never do a confession scene but here is me making good on that finally. i hope u liked this anon!!!! sorry it took a while.

In hindsight, you think you should have woken up that morning and known. Known via some cosmic force that today was going to be it— the day you’d been waiting basically a decade for, the day you don't think you'll forget as long as you live—

Instead, you wake up bolt upright at three in the morning, heart beating frantic in your chest, to five missed calls from your best friend.

"What?", you groan, angry, into the phone, then, realising he's calling you at three in the morning, a more concerned note seeps into your tone, "Lan, is that you? You alright?"

"I locked myself out," is the gravelly reply.

"You locked yourself out?"

"I— yes," he hisses down the line, "I forgot my keys okay."

You snort, say, "You're a silly billy," without thinking anything of it.

You'll attribute it to sleep deprivation later, but you'll also find that Lando thinks nothing further of it, too used to you throwing affectionate nicknames his way—

"Shuddup," he mumbles.

You think he's drunk, at least tipsy. He'd said something offhandedly on your FaceTime call yesterday about going out with a few friends you don't know. Besides, there's a slur to his words, a tiredness.

"Come up already," you tell him.

"'M right outside."

You hum in confirmation that you've heard him, put your phone back on the nightstand and slip out from under the covers. You're wearing a sweatshirt that's three sizes too big it might be Lando's and pink fuzzy socks, you feel goosebumps rise on your legs as you pad to the front door. You lean heavily against the wall, closing your eyes as you unlock the padlock and swing it open for your friend.

Lando stumbles in. You twist around to look at him. He's not as drunk as you thought he might be. Sleepy though. You can tell by the squint of his eyes, how they're red rimmed and the mess of his hair. Run through too many times with his hand.

"You want your spare key?", you question as Lando turns on his heel, finding you at the sound of your voice.

He frowns, looking at you like you've grown two heads. Crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Nuh," he shakes his head, then reaches forward to take your wrist, hauling you back through the apartment, "Let's go sleep."

You shrug, acquiescing as he leads you to your bedroom. If you hadn't just been woken up from a dead sleep you might have felt a little weird about it. Paid attention to the stirring feeling low in your gut. Instead, you slip into bed and pull the covers back for Lando without a care in the world.

It's not that weird, you think as he kicks off his shoes and rummages around on your hanging rail for a shirt big enough for him. He finds one that you're sure was originally his. You look away as he changes, shucking out of the short sleeve button up you'd helped him pick out, peeling off chinos you'd also picked out. There's a pair of his gym shorts laying around somewhere, you know it— but he doesn't bother to look for them. Just pulls the t-shirt on over his bare tan chest and climbs in next to you.

You've done this before. Many times. And the two of you make a deliberate point of not being weird about, even though it's been a point of contention in every relationship either of you have had to date. And you don't know what it is tonight this morning, but his presence next to you is making your chest tight. Something skitters up your spine as he slots into your space.

As casual as ever he slings an arm over your waist, tugs you closer to him and presses the line of his nose into the back of your neck. Briefly, he reaches to swipe your hair out of the way, mumbling something about it tickling him.

There's something set ablaze in your stomach.

"G'night, babe," he mutters, breath fanning your ear.

God. You have to suppress a shiver. The babe thing isn't even anything different, he calls you that often enough mostly when he's had something to drink, there's just something about it right now. When you're sleep-woozy and he's just undressed in front of you. Maybe you had a weird dream about him again and you can't remember it, even if your subconscious does.

You bite down on your tongue, answer, "Sleep tight, Lan."

He hums. You crack your neck to stop from letting out a noise that would be utterly indecent right now. Unaware, Lando puts his nose right back in the same spot. You lie there for a while, wired and buzzing, until you hear his breathing steady and deepen as he falls asleep. And even though you feel like every nerve ending in your body is on fire, sleep finds you too.

You wake up again, later, to the morning sun pouring in through your curtains. It lights up the empty space on the bed in front of you. Acreage of bed, pillow, not taken up by anyone.

Still, on your other side, Lando's in your personal space to a degree that you don't realise at first. You wake up disoriented, grappling to remember the events of early that morning. There’s still no cosmic thing telling you that you need to remember today. Commit every single second to memory as it happens. You try to roll over, feeling warmth at your back but not thinking anything of it until Lando gripes something unintelligible into your ear—

Okay. Memories return to you now.

You start to contextualise the skin on yours.

Lando's arm is still slung around your waist, but his hand has made it's way underneath your jumper. Fingers dig into the plush skin of your bare stomach, clutching like you'll slip out of his grasp if he's not careful. Somehow, the other arm has forced it's way under your pillow and you can feel the line of his body against your back, where he's gotten as close to you as he could manage. His legs tangle with yours, one of them spreading out into your space, strewn diagonally across the bed. His knee presses up into the meat of your thigh.

You try not to think how easily your bodies fit together.

You're still for a while. Drifting in and out of sleep. You're comfortable, above all else. You don't really want Lando to move. This certainly isn't the first time you've woken up like this, tangled up with each other, you're betting you'll be able to pass it off with a silly comment once Lando wakes up. You'll extract yourselves from each other and get on with your day like usual.

No big deal—

Lando wakes up half an hour or so later and acts like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He yawns loudly into your ear and rolls over without fanfare—

No big deal—

It's only when you're in the kitchen together— cooking bacon and eggs while Lando drinks coffee from your espresso machine— that the cracks start to show.

You glance at him sideways, watching as he gnaws at the inside of his mouth. His eyes slip off you, directing to the sizzling pan, “What’s up?”, you ask, “Something happen?”

He shakes his head, too quickly, “No. Nope— I—”

He tapers off his sentence, shaking his head. Nose scrunching momentarily. You raise an eyebrow but don’t think much of it. It’s Lando, he’ll tell you if it’s important. Plus, you’re kinda busy right now making sure the eggs don’t burn. A few minutes pass, you ask him to grab plates. He says okay and then drags out an,

“Um,” for so long that you’re a little concerned.

Something nervous flutters in your chest, you’re turning the heat on the burner down low before you know why. You’ve just been friends with Lando for so long, you know when there’s something heavy in his words, when there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

You turn to give him your full attention, your eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Plates, Lan?”

He’s staring at you. Like, staring at you. Like, slack-jawed, eyes glittering, staring. Like how the guy looks at the girl at the end of every rom-com ever. Like how Harry looks at Sally in every fucking scene of your favourite movie of all time. Like—

Shit. Do you have a massive fuck off pimple on your face? Have you turned blue? Are you being completely out of your mind delusional right now? Because there’s something suddenly wreaking havoc in your stomach. And you really do want to believe that Lando is looking at you in that way, and not just because you’ve got something embarrassing on your face—

“Lando,” you say, firmly, urgency to it, “Spit it out.”

He shakes his head.

You put a hand on his bicep, “Lando.”

It’s got to be that. It’s got to be—

God, your chest feels tight. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. He’s not even said anything yet!

It’s got to be—

He blinks. You think your sudden intensity has made him nervous because he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck from side to side. A little groan escapes his lips.

“I just—” he sighs heavily, as if it’s too hard to force out; but he’s still looking at you, “What if, I was— ugh, no, nothing, it’s fine—”

“What if you were what?”, it’s out of your mouth before you can think. You think you know exactly what the end of his sentence is. You think perhaps you are too. A pause, then, being braver than you thought you could be, you add, “In love with me?”

He looks immediately as if you’ve sucker punched him right in the gut. Eyes wide and wet and red-rimmed, like kicked puppy, a pleading dog. There’s something scared, nervous, in the set of his shoulders as well. You watch them draw up to his chin as he tries to sink into them.

“Why would you say that?” His voice is downright panicked, “How did you know that?”

Your heart stops beating in your chest, drops into your stomach and falls right out your ass. You shake your head,

“I didn’t. I didn’t. I just guessed, Lan,” you realise your hand is still on his bicep, you squeeze, “Are you?”

“Am I?”, he looks slightly incredulous, baffled at what you’re saying like it’s supposed to be obvious that he is, “Jesus. Of course I am. I can’t– I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re there all the time. And y’know, I see you and you’re just,” he waves an arm between the two of you, gesturing up and down at your body, “You’re fucken’ gorgeous. And you don’t say a thing when we wake up together and I’m basically, on top of you—”

“You don’t say anything either,” you gripe, even though there’s something like joy clawing up your throat, “I thought it was normal.”

Lando tips his head back, groans something halfway filthy, “Normal. I didn’t let half my exes sleep over, and I turned around if they did sleep in my bed. And— fuck, y’know— my keys are actually in my pants pocket right now. I was out drinking and having fun and all I could think about was how much I missed you. How much I just wanted to like, crawl into bed with you.”

“You arsehole.”

“What?”

“You arsehole,” you repeat, “I would have let you in anyway. You didn’t have to lie.”

For a long minute, Lando gapes at you like a fish out of water. Briefly, you think maybe you’ve screwed it by being too mean. It’s never stopped you before, but you’ve also never been in this exact situation with Lando before, frighteningly enough—

One second you’re running through all the possible apologies you could give to make it better, to smooth it all over, and then the next Lando is kissing you—

Or, you feel his hand on your chin first, your mouth forming the first letter of shit, sorry Lan, and then suddenly his mouth is slanting across yours. He tastes a bit like morning breath and a lot like bitter coffee, but his mouth is wet and soft and your lips slot together so perfectly. You put a hand in his curls and find that it feels different to when you card your fingers through his hair.

God.

He’s got a hand on your waist and he’s digging his fingers into your jaw like you’re going to pull away from him without warning and never come back.

“Lan,” you say into his mouth, he pauses long enough for you to speak, lips hovering, nearly touching, “‘M not going anywhere.”

He shakes his head, slanting forward to kiss you again, “No, you’re not,” he pulls back again, pressing his forehead to yours, green-as-grass eyes boring into yours, “Please say you’re in love with me right now?”

Despite yourself, you raise an eyebrow, “Are you in love with me?”

He sighs something ragged out through his nose, kisses you again, says, “‘Course, I’m in love with you. How could I not be,” into your mouth.

You hum from the back of your throat, tongue slipping forward to press against his teeth, tangling against his, “Then of course I am, Lan,” you echo.

How could you not be?

u just know all of lando's gfs/situationships HATED the fuck out of her

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, kids, penetrative sex, breeding

"she’s really good with kids," roy smiles widely to his best friend, a smile that turns into a smirk when he looks over to the raven haired man. cheeks dusted pink while a stupid, love-struck grin covers his lips.

that is, until it’s not and is quickly wiped off when he feels the gaze on him and a bump to his shoulder. "don’t ya want some of your own?" the red-haired man asks, and jason rolls his eyes. "can’t stand kids, basically have some of my own with all the other shits," jason says annoyedly thinking about his one-too-many siblings that he had grown up raising alongside dick. raising kids as siblings and vigilantes has a tendency to make the average man not want children

but, he can’t help but to feel a pang in his chest when he watches you pick up roy’s baby daughter, lian, from your place in the park a little bit aways from the two men. your arms wrapping around her tiny frame as you hold her close to your chest, pointing to jason and roy while encouraging her to wave at the two men. something of a wave, more of a grabbing fist is executed as she matches the smile that you’re wearing, and jason has never thought about getting you pregnant until this very moment.

like a flick of a switch changes in him. he imagines it’s what animals feel when it's mating season; something primal and deep within him that says he needs to be the reason for a bump on your belly and he needs it to happen immediately.

"c’mon, if you get her pregnant now, lian and yours can grow up together," roy pushes more, waving to his sweet baby while doing so; contrastly speaking to jason about impregnating you like it was as normal as he made it sound. "y’know you want it, big man. plus your babies would be so fuckin’ cute," he fonds, "well, her traits would make your babies cute, i don’t know about yours," roy teases with a laugh, hitting jason’s back.

bidding a farewell to your best friend in law and his daughter, you made your way back into your home with jason following behind, locking the door and making his own way in.

"how many kids do you want?" your boyfriend asks, and it’s hard not to take you by surprise. usually these conversations stemmed from previous important conversations, or something that brought overwhelming intimacy. To say the least, this wasn’t the average conversation that’s spoken as soon as you walk in the door.

this wasn’t the type of conversation to follow spending time with your best friend.

"why’re you asking?" you question, turning on your heel with a pointed look and jason shrugs with a roll of his eyes. his keys rustle against the counter as he walks towards you, his cold hand finding yours and leading you quietly to your bedroom.

“i think you’d look good with my baby,” he says, helping you take your sweater and then shirt underneath off. gently, and without rush, like he has all the time in the world if you’re willing. raising your arms to assist the man with his task at hand, you smile teasingly, “somebody’s got baby fever ‘cause of lian, huh?” and jason scoffs with a small laugh, “something like that. also wanna continue our family if you'd like to help,” he insists with a tease while your hands now find his top, doing the same as he did to you. 

his movements are slow tonight, matching the one of two ways you find him in bed. either fucking or making love, and when the latter occurs, you find yourself relishing in every touch that feels louder than they’ve ever been. touches that are soft but with force to be intentional, kisses that are meaningful, especially the one jason presses with soft lips to the spot right under your belly button. his movements that are languid, slow, and rhythmed with every moan and word that he whispers in your ear, say in your neck after he’s kissed the skin there.

months later when he sees your swollen belly, he feels like he’s won the lottery. he feels like you're a prize he’s won and just needs to show off; realistically, he’s keeping you home as much as possible and going out with you in times of needing outside air. your lower back hurts? he’s watched youtube tutorials on massage techniques that help during pregnancy. you have a strange craving? jason’s running out at midnight to get precisely what you’re crazing. oh, your tits are sore after you’ve finally delivered your baby? there’s nothing to worry about when jason asks a quick, “you want my hands or my mouth?”

[libraryofloveletters]

Find Your Way Home

Daniel Ricciardo x Engineer!Fem!Reader

Warnings: the curse that is mclaren racing, < mclaren/zak slander, the highs and lows of Danny's career, monaco 2016, horner warning lmao, a few bitter words, angst, unspoken feelings, sadness, 2022 silly season and a few swear words.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: after plotting this, i realized that The Red String Of Me And You follows a similar timeline but this one is more detailed and sooo much sexier of me so enjoy it :)

---

RedBull Racing - 2014; Montreal, Canada.

Under-qualified crossed your mind every time you got into your chair on the pit wall.

You had recently graduated and you were lucky enough to snag a job with Red Bull Racing. You were told it would be a job at the factory, that you would be handling the reviews from the races from an engineering point of view.

Now you were sitting on the pit wall in Montreal, your driver in your ear. "Are we set?" His voice came through.

Your eyes scanned over the screens, pressing the button. "We're all set, Daniel."

Daniel was gunning for his first race win and you've been hoping and praying every weekend that he'd win. It was your first time as a race engineer and you were starting to think you two hadn't fully clicked yet, hence why you've yet to get a win.

He starts in P6 and his teammate Sebastian, was in P3 this weekend. There's a lot of pressure when your teammate is a 4 time world champion and you're sure Daniel felt it, especially on weekends like this.

You sat patiently, buzzing into him once more before they started the countdown. "Be safe."

"Safe is my middle name, y/n."

"Whatever you say, Joseph." The use of his actual middle name earned you a laugh. The radio falls silent; three, two, one, lights out.

It's a gruesome 70 laps, there's overtaking left and right, Daniel fights his way up to P3 and you're praying he can do what he does best. You watch as the laps count down towards the final one.

67, 68, 69, and into the final corner. The navy car crossed the line and it takes you a second to catch yourself. Christian squeezes your arm from next to you, a massive grin on his face when you register what just happened.

"YOU DID IT!!" You shouted into the radio, Daniel's laughter and hollering filled your ears and your heart with love and happiness, "we did it!" he shouts, correcting you.

Everyone's running, you're following the mechanics to under the podium, all of you squished up against the fence like sardines as the navy team awaited their two drivers.

Daniel had won, followed by Nico in P2 for Mercedes and Sebastian in P3 for RedBull.

Seb runs over to his half of the garage, there's a sea of navy and everyone is mixed up together but when Daniel gets out of his car, he's looking for one person and one person only. He spots you, a big smile on your face and even though he knows you'd never admit it, there are tears in your eyes.

The driver jumps straight into your arms, putting all of his weight on you and the fence. A few of the mechanics squeeze into the hug, holding Daniel so he doesn't crush you.

Your hands cup his face, well what would be his face under the helmet. His visor is lifted, brown eyes meet yours; the crinkles by his eyes signalling to the massive smile under the helmet.

"We fucking did it!" His shout comes out muffled.

You smile, nodding. Daniel is standing again, still holding onto you. He leans into you, arms wrapped around you with his face buried in your shoulder. You kiss the side of his helmet, hand reaching down to rub the top of his back. You internally gag at the dampness that meets your hand but that was the least of your concerns.

Daniel just won his first race.

Proud was an understatement.

--

RedBull Racing - 2016; Monte Carlo, Monaco.

He could taste the victory.

The win was reaching out to him, the finish line on the tips of his fingers and he could feel it slipping away from him.

"Pit now," you called to him, Daniel was confused by your sudden decision. "Tyres are good, y/n."

"Team decision, please pull into the pit lane."

Daniel groans letting you know he'll be there in a few seconds.

You saw when he pulled into the pits, watching as the mechanics scrabbled to get the tyres ready in time. They had Daniel sitting there, his position falling with each wasted second.

"What the fuck!" His radio was still on, you weren't even sure what you could tell him in that moment to make him feel better. He pulls out with a sense of speed you'd never seen before. He finds himself racing to beat Lewis coming out of the pit lane but the Mercedes turns into the corner before he gets the chance too, overtaking him.

"Why did we pit?" He asks you, you pretend not to hear him as you look over at Christian. The older man gives you a look, urging you to answer the driver.

Daniel calls your name once again, his voice making you want to cry; all of the horrible emotions mixed in with the guilt of the horrible pit stop made you sick.

You finally answer; "team decision."

He scoffs, it's like you can feel the tension over the radio, see the way his hands tighten around the steering wheel as he goes into the tunnel. "Bullshit, y/n."

"I'm sorry Dan-" "Stop, nothing you could say will make this better."

And with that, the radio fell silent. The nauseous feeling builds with each passing second, your leg shaking and your eyes staying fixed to the screen until Daniel crosses the finish line in P2.

It was better than nothing but you knew he could have won the race, you knew he would blame the team, blame the crew, blame you for this loss.

Christian squeezes your shoulder as he gets up, a smile on his face - his quiet way of telling you good job. He knows how difficult drivers can be, especially when things like this happen. The race engineers are the first to take the blame, you called him into the pit so you'd take the brunt of the anger.

You nod, hearing Daniel's voice over the radio, "place?"

"P2. Well done, Daniel."

"Okay."

Daniel stood next to Lewis, Checo on the other side of the Mercedes driver. It was quiet as you watched Daniel shake the champagne bottle, spraying over his fellow drivers. He had a smile on his face but you knew he wasn't happy. You knew him like the back of your hand and once again, the nauseous feeling creeped up the back of your throat, the feeling strangling the life out of you with each passing second. You had to go, you couldn't stand there and watch him like that, knowing you were the one he was blaming.

And that he did; not in so many words but the bitterness in his voice and way he spoke was enough to tell you he did not want to be there.

The interview replayed in the debrief that afternoon, the press officers wanting to go over something he had said.

"It hurts, this one hurts a lot. More than any other."

His words hurt you.

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, let alone be in the same room as him. There was a sense of despair, you couldn't shake it.

It wasn't until you were about to leave that you found yourself turning back, walking in the direction of his driver's room. You stopped outside the door; D. Ricciardo, 3 - with an Australian flag beside it. As you were about to knock, Michael opens the door, a bit shocked to see you.

"Is he in there?" You asked quietly and he nodded, stepping aside to let you in. Michael shuts the door on his way out, leaving the two of you alone.

Daniel's yet to turn around or yet to realize you were there. "I'm sorry," you speak, your quiet voice startling him. "I'm not sure what went wrong."

"Everything did."

"It wasn't my decision."

"You're my engineer; when I'm out there, it's me and you. It was your decision, y/n. Only yours."

"I'm sorry, Daniel. I really am."

"Nothing you can say will fix it, and I know you're sorry but right now, I don't want your sorry."

You nod, taking a step back. "Then what can I say? Or do?"

"You can leave," his arms fold over his chest. "Because if you stay, I might say some things I can't take back. I know we aren't cool right now but I don't want to hurt you, y/n."

"You already have," you give him a tight lipped smile, the sadness clear across your face. "Goodnight Daniel."

--

RedBull Racing - 2018; Monte Carlo, Monaco.

It was off to a good start, Daniel had managed to give it his all and snag pole position on Saturday. He was in a good mood, there's a smile on his face and the sun was shining down on Monaco which was a nice change from the rain that was setting up in the morning.

The cars on the grid, the drivers counting down the seconds to lights out. You buzz into him, waiting to hear the little click. Daniel's breathing comes through from his side.

“50% done, remember?” You tell him. 

“50% done.” He says, the radio goes quiet as he waits for lights out.

Daniel drove amazingly, despite the issues the car was giving him. He finds himself aggravated half way through the race, the car giving out on him and losing power; thus losing hope in himself. The win was slipping through his fingers all over again with each passing corner and turn.

The weight was lifted off his shoulders when you watched him cross the finish line as the winner.

"P1 baby!!!!" You shout into the radio, Daniel's hollering fills the line and a big smile on both of your faces. "We fucking did it!!" He laughed, driving his cool down lap.

You were by the fence, watching as he climbed onto the halo of his car. Daniel's hand in a fist, placed on his chest as the team cheered. You're sure you've got the goofiest grin on your face, squished between Christian and Adrian.

Much like he did after his first race win, he makes a beeline straight for you, his arms open as he jumps into yours. Once again, you find yourself struggling to hold the man up but you try your best, arms wrapped around him.

Daniel's squished against you, your hands on his helmet, holding where his jaw would be. "Got that other 50%."

"Redemption day baby!" He shouts, giving you one last squeeze.

The rest of the afternoon was like heaven on earth; the smell of champagne, RedBull and chlorine covered everyone, you all watched as Daniel dived into the pool of the energy station.

"Come on!" He shouts to you but you shake your head, "I'm not getting in there."

Daniel pulls himself out of the pool, running over to you. "Dan, no." Your finger stuck out to warn him, the man comes closer. "Stop it," you get up, about to run away. He grabs you before you get the chance to run away, his arms wrapped tightly around you before he jumps into the pool.

"Daniel!" You scream when you get back up to the surface, "oh my god!" You laughed, your hand passed over your face to wipe away the water. He laughs, swimming - more like blobbing his way over to you, his race suit was weighing him down.

He grabs your arm, pulling you to him. The team photographer takes a photo of the two of you; arms wrapped around each other, covered in disgusting pool water with the world's biggest million watt smiles on your face.

You smile at the man next to you, "I'm so proud of you."

"I'm proud of you," he smiles, hugging you once more. "I couldn't have done it without you."

--

RedBull Racing - 2018; Abu Dhabi.

The announcement over the summer break threw everyone for a loop.

Breaking News: Daniel Ricciardo set to join Renault Racing for the 2019 season.

You weren't sure how to handle it or what prompted it.

Well that's not entirely true; after Monaco, things went downhill fast. There was bad result after bad result and it was weighing heavily on him.

When he returned from the summer break, you didn't say anything to him about the departure from the team. You knew he must have thought about it, you don't just up and leave a team just like that. It was a hard decision for him to make.

The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel worse.

It was his last day, the race was over and Daniel had made his rounds to say goodbye to everyone. You had been busy when he made his way around the garage and hospitality but you felt like a general goodbye wasn't enough for the man who you have spent almost every day with for the last 4 years of your life.

You knocked on the door of his driver's room, Michael smiles when he opens the door. "Come in, y/n."

Daniel turns when he hears your name. "I uh, I forgot something in the garage, I'll be back." Micheal says, announcing that he's leaving so you'd get a moment of privacy.

The two of you were quiet, looking at each other for a moment before you spoke.

You break the silence. “So this is it?” 

“Yeah.” He nods, shifting from one foot to the other. You hum, lips pressed together as you look around. You'd never seen the room so empty. “Do you really have to go ?” 

Daniel smiles, “afraid so, bags are packed.” 

“You could always unpack.” 

He smiled, his heart aching at the sight of you. You reached out, your hand placed on his warm cheek. “But you’ll come back, right?” 

A sad smile on his face, bringing his own hand up to rest on yours. “In another life, maybe.” 

“You promise?” You stuck your pinky out towards him. 

He nods, interlocking his pinky with yours like you were children. “I promise.” 

--

Renault Racing - 2020; Imola, Italy.

The rain poured down, the night sky as dark as it could possibly get as you pulled your hood over your head; the race hadn't gone as well as you'd like but you were no longer needed for the night, on your way back to your hotel for some sleep and then home before you head off to Turkey.

You could barely see where you were going let alone hear anything over the rain. The sudden shelter over you caused you to look up; an umbrella, a black and yellow one to be precise.

The man next to you smiles when you turn to see who was next to you. "Hello stranger," he grinned, the big smile on his face.

"Hello Daniel," you smiled.

The two of you hadn't spoken much since he left RedBull, it was a hi and a hello here and there in passing but you've yet to have a proper conversation. Frankly, you aren't sure what to say without it being awkward.

"Need a ride?" He asks, his arm over your shoulder to pull you away from the rain. "If it's not too much trouble." You pull the hood off of your head, flattening a few fly aways.

Daniel leads you towards the parking lot, holding the umbrella over your head until you get into the car. The man backed out of the parking spot, the sound of the rain on the windshield filled the silence, you translated the road signs in your head as he passed them by.

"You looked good up there today," you say quietly, Daniel glanced at you when he came to a stop. "You were always suited for the podium."

"Top step though," he smiles and you nod in agreement. "I'm sorry.. about the race. Sucks for Max and Alex."

You shrugged; A DNF for Max and P15 for Alex, so all in all, a shit weekend. "That's racing, what can you do?"

"The good and the bad." He pulls off when the light turns green. "You know how it is," you smiled, picking at the chipped nail polish on your index finger.

"Daniel, can I ask you something?"

"Oh full name, you've got me shakin' in my boots, y/n; but yes you can."

You shift in the leather seat, smooth and expensive and suddenly you're aware of how wet your hoodie is. The question you wanted to ask slips away momentarily as you think of how much this must be damaging the seat.

"Y/n," he calls out to you, glancing over to make sure you were alright after you had gone quiet. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Why are you running, Daniel ?"

The question catches him off guard, the car comes to a stop as he pulls into the parking lot of your hotel. His jaw hung open a bit as if he was unsure how to answer you; which he was. You watched as he blinked, trying to gather the thoughts in his head into a cohesive sentence.

"I'm not."

You can't help but chuckle; those who are running never seem to realize that they are, in fact, running.

"You are. You have a habit of doing that, Daniel."

You reach over, your hand rests atop of his; Daniel's skin is warm in comparison to yours that's still ice cold from the rain. His free hand moves, his index finger tracing up and down your hands, from your knuckles down to your wrist; another habit of his. He would distract himself during boring debriefs, his fingers pinching at yours under the table.

He's quiet, still unsure how to answer the statement that he knows in his heart was true. His fingers wandering over your hand, the raised skin by your thumb felt out a pattern identical to his; a rose in the same spot only slightly smaller in size.

Daniel had talked you into it. Another habit of his, getting you to do things you'd never do otherwise.

You were scared, you thought it would hurt but somehow he managed to talk you into it. There you were in his hotel room, Daniel's hand in your free one as you two got matching tattoos.

It felt like a million years ago - so much has changed since then.

You speak again, breaking the silence. "I hope you find what you're looking for at McLaren. You deserve some peace, Dan. You and I both know it."

--

McLaren Racing - 2021; Monza, Italy.

Back where he belongs.

A hell of a drive, something only Daniel could have pulled off after the horrendous start that was McLaren. You knew it was the car, not him; if anyone asked you, the car was always at fault. Daniel was one of the most talented drivers you had ever come across and had the pleasure of working with. You'd tell anyone who asked, anyone who'd listen to you.

It was a lacklustre weekend for the team; Checo was in P5 and Max had a DNF after an accident with Lewis, which caused both drivers to lose out on points that were needed for the championship.

Despite RedBull not having a driver on the podium, you and a few of the mechanics that used to work on Daniel's side of the garage went to watch the podium to cheer him on.

You watched as he and Lando did a shoey, your face twisting into disgust much like the younger McLaren driver. Valtteri watched in a bit of confusion and disgust, shaking his head as he took a swing of champagne from the bottle like a normal person.

The champagne bottle in one hand and the other on the railing as he climbed up. Daniel shouts, a big grin on his face as he lifts the bottle above his head. Everyone cheers for him, clapping and shouting for the winner. You were needed back in the garage for a meeting so you couldn't stick around long but you made sure to text Daniel.

To Daniel Ricciardo: Congrats winner! Back on the top step.

You got caught up in the meetings, back to back that felt never ending. Eventually you have a chance to check your phone but when you feel your pocket, it's not there.

You must have put it down somewhere. You find yourself retracing your steps, asking each person you saw as you passed by.

"Y/n!" GP calls for you, getting your attention. "Looking for this?" He holds up a phone with a navy blue case, your initials inscribed in gold on the bottom.

You let out a breath, "how'd you know?"

He hands the phone over to you, shrugging. "You know I always know." You roll your eyes at your co-worker's theatrics and thank him for your phone before walking off. You see you've missed a few messages so you scroll through. One in particular catches your eye.

From Daniel Ricciardo: Thanks boss lady! Congrats to you too, you helped make me the man I am today.

The message pulled on your heart strings; it was true. You and Daniel were so young when you got paired up together. You learnt a lot about life and yourselves, how to be a good person and what you wanted from life, and most importantly, how to get it.

You grew up together and Daniel would always hold a special place in your heart.

--

McLaren Racing - 2022; Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium.

You couldn't believe it.

After everything he's done for the team, he'd hurt him like that. What could you expect from a team when their CEO was a walking snake?

It was a chain reaction.

Sebastian had thrown everyone for a loop in Hungary, announcing that he would be retiring at the end of the 2022 season. That left Aston looking for a replacement that came from Fernando. There was an opening at Alpine now which they just assumed they'd fill with their reserve driver, Oscar.

Safe to say Oscar wasn't a fan of that plan, actually he wasn't even aware of that plan.

While all of this was going on, Daniel had publicly committed to McLaren for the next season and McLaren was giving away his seat to different drivers behind his back, including none other than Alpine's reserve driver, Oscar.

Eventually it did come out that Daniel would be leaving McLaren at the end of the 2022 season to no fault of his own.

Returning from the summer break, everyone is left to face the music; particularly Daniel.

His music shuts off when he pulls the key from the ignition. You had forgotten your pass in the car, walking all the way back to the parking lot to get it.

"Morning, y/n!" Daniel grins, stepping out of the car.

You smiled at him, knowing you can't show the anger you were feeling to that wretched team he has to work with for the rest of the season. "Morning, Danny. How are you?"

He laughs.

The question feels so stupid, he feels so stupid. Obviously there's the obvious, he's angry, upset, sad, mad; at who was the question. There's so many thoughts in his head, he isn't sure how to answer your question.

"Daniel, c'mon. Seriously. "

"I'll be okay, y/n. Life works in weird ways."

A huff slips past your lips, arms folded across your chest much like a disapproving mother. "Life working in weird ways is finding something you thought you lost years ago, not you getting sold out of your seat without your knowledge."

He gives you a sad smile, nodding in agreement. "I know."

You can't help but reach out, a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be okay."

"I always am, aren't I?"

--

Red Bull Racing - 2022; Abu Dhabi.

Headphones covered your ears, legs folded under you as you went over the last set of race footage.

You hadn't heard the door open, your eyes glued to the screen only looking away to scribbling something down on the page next to your laptop.

You barely get a second to look back before someone's hands over your eyes, startling you. Instinctively, you brought your own hands up, grabbing the person. The raised skin along the wrist and the arms was enough to signal who it was but the smell of his cologne filled the room. You let go of his arms, pulling the headphones off your ears.

Daniel smiles, his hands on your shoulders before you stand up and turn to face him. “Miss me, miss me, now you gotta-“ 

“Gotta what, Dan?” 

“Kiss me,” he says, his signature cheeky grin on his face. You can’t help but smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You smooth the wrinkles on his navy blue shirt, admiring him in the colours that meant home to him, to you.

Your hands held his face, “you came back.” 

“Pinky promises are sacred.” 

“That they are.” 

--

Scuderia AlphaTauri - 2023; Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium.

He's back on the grid, his focus was on racing.

Daniel's excited to be back, it felt good to be back. Racing wasn't a burden anymore. Yuki was happy to have him, his new teammate welcoming him with a smile and a hug as did the rest of the Alpha Tauri team before he made his way to his driver's room.

The door was unlocked, left ajar slightly. Daniel just assumed the team was doing a last check, making sure things were in order.

He wasn't expecting a person to be in there. He found a woman, her back turned to him as she scribbled down something on the board.

He knows that handwriting from anywhere. The words let's fucking go written in all caps in bright blue.

"Hello," he calls, you turn with the marker still in hand. "Hello," you smiled.

Daniel can't help but laugh, "what are you doing here? Come to welcome me back ?"

"Something like that."

At that moment, Daniel noticed you weren't wearing your usual navy blue uniform. Today was different; a different logo, a different cut.

"What are you wearing? Why are you wearing that?" He points to the Alpha Tauri logo on your shirt.

Your brows furrow, a bit confused by his reaction. You thought he'd be happy to see you. "Do you not need a race engineer or.. you're just gonna wing it? Maybe you could borrow Michael to do it?"

"Don't be a smart ass," he rolled his eyes, dropping his bags as he walked over to you. "Thank you," he whispers, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

You pat his back, trying to wiggle away from him. "No need to thank me, we have a lot of work to do."

"I've barely been here for 5 minutes and you're already hassling me."

"Someone's gotta do it," you smiled, leaving him there to settle in.

It wasn't until it was time for practice that you saw the man again, you're across from him on the pit wall, looking over the stats before you hear the radio buzz.

“We all set?” He asks. 

You look over the screens. “All set. Be safe.”

“Safe is my middle name, Y/n.” The words remind you of the path you walked along many many years ago. 

You smiled, waving to him as he pulled out of the garage. “Whatever you say, Joseph.”

--

taglist: @oconso @dragon-of-winterfell @benedictscanvas @elisaa-shelby @hnmaga-blog @czechoslovakiandisco @dr3lover @troybolton14 @Lovingroscoee @compulsiveshit @somanyfandomsbruh  @damnyoulifee @barzysreputation @vickyofalltrades @yeolsbubbles @barzysreputation @thybulleric @valkyrie4188 @ricsaigaslec @idkiwantchocolate  @sessgjarg @molliemoo3 @bisexual-desi @sunf1owerr @alwaysclassyeagle@coldmuffinbanditshoe @sillybananamaker

[lesbianhalflifeposting]

Could you imagine being Chell. Getting through to the end of a testing track after hours. Sweaty, exhausted, clothes clinging to your skin, wanting nothing more than to get in the elevator and be done for the day. Dropping a final cube onto its button and feeling the immense relief of the exit door sliding open, striding towards it, almost dead on your feet. Stepping through to where the elevator should be, only to find a blank room. Hearing the whir of air vents, starting to feel your knees turn to jelly beneath you, realizing you've been had. Feeling your legs give out, your entire body crumple to the floor, the last thing you see being the Party Escort Bot grabbing your ankles before the darkness ebbing at the edges of your vision wins out and you know nothing more.

Could you imagine slowly letting your mind come back to life. Dim light piercing through the blackness of unconsciousness, dragging you back to the world of the living. Realizing as your senses came back online that everything didn't feel quite right. Your body felt twisted, contorted in ways you couldn't make sense of. Feeling a pain inside you, but one that you just couldn't place. The events leading up to this moment flooding back into your brain, and your mind jolting to attention.

Could you imagine your eyes snapping open, desperately taking in your situation as the sensations you'd felt earlier now aligned into focus. Tied down on your knees, arms behind your back, unable to move no matter how you squirm. Wearing only your sports bra, every other piece of clothing you own being MIA. Forced down onto a massive dildo, one you couldn't possibly take normally. Stretched out to a degree that would make someone weaker cry out, silicone head rubbing against your cervix with every movement.

Could you imagine feeling a chill rush over you, goosebumps prickling as the PA crackled to life. Hearing that familiar breathy whisper as the full nature of your exposed form, your complete and utter vulnerability sank in. How she'd managed to outsmart you, humiliate you like this, in a way you had promised yourself you'd never let her do.

"I have to admit, I had expected much more resistance from you, Chell. I almost wonder if you wanted this to happen. For how much you fight me, you seem to be quite the perfect little slut. I was amazed at how little effort it took getting you down like this, let alone forcing that member inside you. You were wet from the bot's first touch, weren't you?"

Could you imagine growing red, humiliated at her words, disgraced at how she spoke about you. How dare she? A machine, a thing, calling you a whore? And yet... Could you imagine feeling yourself start to drip around the fake cock. Were you enjoying this??? Was she turning you on? Maybe she was right. Maybe you are a fucking slu-

Could you imagine your head throwing back, your mind going completely blank as the massive protrusion pressing against your most sensitive spots started vibrating. Shockwaves penetrating throughout your core, causing every muscle in your body to tense, only the restraints on your legs holding you upright. Trying desperately to find some kind of purchase to rub your clit on but finding nothing but cool air; feeling your slick gush from around the shaft within you, puddling on the floor around your thighs. Biting back moans and whines so she couldn't hear; trying desperately to hide how despite everything, this felt so GOOD. Failing to catch one as it left your mouth; a long, drawn-out, gurgling, guttural noise you didn't even know was capable of coming from your lungs.

"So you are enjoying this! Just when I was starting to doubt my hypothesis, you provide me with the ultimate piece of evidence. My own mute, dangerous whore."

Could you imagine her words barely registering in your mind as the intensity of the vibrations kicked up, surely for her viewing pleasure. Bucking your hips against the restraints, just barely managing to rise half an inch off the ground before the straps ground against your skin, keeping you from going any further. Slamming yourself back down onto the floor, the tip ramming itself back against your cervix in a mixture of extreme pain and pure ecstasy that you needed more of. Bouncing yourself up and down as much as your condition would allow, feeling your core start to tense up, release starting to poke its head over the horizon, edging closer and closer before finally taking you. Pure white flooding your vision as your eyes roll back, orgasm bursting from within your deep core, conscious thought escaping out the back door as pure pleasure takes its place.

Could you imagine the wave of ecstasy starting to subside, your train of thought reasserting itself as the world comes back to you. Taking in your own sorry state post-orgasm; a thick layer of sweat beads atop brown skin, bra soaked through so cleanly you can see the outlines of your areola. Slick puddled beneath you, mixing with the sweat of your thighs, soaking into your folds. Limbs limp with exhaustion, your body held upright only by the ties around your ankles

"My my. That was an incredible display you put on for me. I almost didn't want it to end. But, I suppose like all tests, results must come eventually. That said-"

Could you imagine jerking back as the vibrations returned, much stronger than they had been before. Feeling your sensitive cunt cry out as it was overstimulated, your mind flooded with painful pleasure as you start to cry out in between moans.

"-All good science must be repeatable through experimentation. I simply must gather more data before reaching conclusions. You understand, don't you, you little whore? After all, it's for science :)."

[familyvideostevie]

october thirtieth

day thirty: james potter you find a photo of the two of you in james's pocket | established relationship, fluff | 1k

“James, have you seen my lipstick?”

No reply. You check your makeup bag one more time but can't find it.

“James!”

“What?”

His voice is muffled. You leave the bathroom and follow it, finding him standing in the closet frowning at his dress shirts. You press into his side, wrapping yourself around his bare torso. “Your face is going to stick like that if you're not careful.”

He drags his hand up and down between your shoulder blades. “I have to be the best-dressed bride of a vampire out there, darling. You know that.”

Silly, silly man. The event of the evening is Halloween-themed drinks at the popular bar on the high street. You had to book a table and everything and James has been looking forward to it all month.

He came up with your costumes: you, a dangerous and beautiful vampire, and him, your willing and handsome bride.

“Well, best of luck to you. Have you seen my lipstick? The red one?”

You need it to draw the punctures on his neck and lines of blood from the corners of your mouth. James pulls himself from your hold and selects a shirt, finally, buttoning it up halfway and messing with his hair in the mirror.

“I don't have it, darling,” he says.

You sigh. Easily distracted, this one. “I gave it to you the other night to hold.”

He snaps his fingers. “So you did. It must be in my jacket pocket.”

“Which one?” You swear James has more clothes than you.

“Which jacket or which pocket?”

“James.”

He winks at you, glasses flashing. “Brown jacket, not sure which pocket.”

You leave him to his fussing and find it hanging on the hook in the entryway.

The lipstick is not in the right pocket or the left. You hope he's not lost it because it's a great color and you really don't want to have to draw the blood on in purple, or something, but then you feel something lipstick-shaped in the breast pocket.

“Jackpot,” you mutter. You pull the tube from the pocket but out with it comes a piece of paper.

It's creased and wrinkled, as if it's been handled many times. You unfold it and —

Oh. You think you say that out loud.

It's you and James. A photo from ages ago. Years, actually. It's you two on the night you met. A party of Lily's, something she did often in those days to bring people together, and this one was a game night. You and James had been paired up for charades and you'd absolutely crushed the competition. You remember feeling like you could read each other's minds.

In the photo you're holding the trophy — a tiny, plastic thing Lily had bought at a discount store — and you're smiling so wide you can see all of your teeth. James has his arm slung around you and he's looking right at you instead of at the camera.

His expression shocks you. You've seen hundreds of photos of the two of you together where he's got this look on his face, the one that you know to be love. And in the photo you've just found, one of the first day you met, he's looking at you the same way. Like he's in love.

“Darling?” he calls. “Did you find it?” he wanders down the hall, fully dressed, and you turn to him.

“Yes,” you say, breathless. “James, why do you have this in your jacket?”

“Hm?” He slides his hand over your hip and leans in to look, face brightening when he see's what you've found. “Have you not seen this before? I suppose I've kept it in there since Lily gave it to me.”

You just stare at it.

“God, it's so obvious I was gone for you,” he sighs.

You turn your head so you're looking at him, so close you could count his eyelashes. “You were?”

“Darling, I was utterly ass over tit for you from the start. In love the second you opened your mouth.”

“Don't be silly, James.”

He looks offended. “No, it's true! I remember the whole thing. I was late and you'd been freed up from work at the last minute so we didn't have partners when Lily said to make teams. And you looked at me and said, 'You better be good at this, because I am.' And I said, 'I will win you this if it's the last thing I do.'”

“Which was a bit dramatic,” you mutter.

“And you didn't even tell me your name until we won.”

“That is how it went, I suppose. You really fancied me because I was a bit overcompetative?”

James snorts. “Come on, love, is that really so hard to believe?”

You look at the picture again. It isn't, considering you were similarly smitten that night, but it's still a bit like a fairy tale.

“No, I guess not.”

“I mean, who wouldn't fall in love with you at first sight?” James presses a kiss to your temple. “You're funny —” he kisses your brow “— sweet —” your nose “— lovely —” your cheek.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you say, shoving him off. “We need to finish getting ready, James, or we'll be late.”

He bares his neck for you. “Blood me up, baby.”

You laugh, slip the photo back into his jacket, and drag him back to the bathroom. “You're so weird.”

“And you looooove it.”

“You're the one who carries that photo round all the time!”

Just saying it makes your heart swell. It's a small thing in the grand scheme of your relationship. James shows you he loves you all the time — in his words, his actions. The way he looks at you. How he always buys your favorite flavor soda at the shop when he sees it. The way he knows how to wake you from a nap without startling you. His touch in a crowded room and his gaze when he senses you need something.

So, yeah, a photo in his jacket pocket is nothing, really. But he clearly looks at it often and thins about that first night.

You lean in and kiss him without warning. He makes a surprised noise but leans into it, hand cupping the back of your neck. Maybe it's alright if you're a little late.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[timdrakesmissingnotebook]

Coffee Shop

summary: tim drake's favorite coffee shop has a new barista.

pairing: tim drake x reader

notes: this is the first time i write something since my art block started, please be nice 🙏🙏🙏

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's just something about you.

Tim thinks it was the destiny for you two to meet. You were the new barista on his favorite coffee shop and he was your first client. Tim remembers shooting you a look of sympathy as you fumbled with the coffee machine, forgetting which buttons to press as you grew more and more nervous.

"I'm sorry about the long wait, it's my first day here." You explained with grimace, trying to figure out the right commandent.

"It's okay, don't worry about that." He smiles and leans towards the balcony, pointing at the machine that was giving you headache, "I think you should press the red one."

"Oh, yeah!" You nodded, doing as he told you. Meeting his blue eyes, you find yourself letting a soft laugh fall from your lips, "You are very kind. Thank you, Mr...?"

"Drake. Tim Drake. Nice to meet you." He smiles again and you feel your own growing wider.

"(y/n) (y/l). It's nice to meet you too."

Tim never had felt this way before. Sure, he has had his fair share of partners on the past, though a lot of them worked better as friends. Tim did love them but, damn, nobody ever made him feel this way.

Maybe it was the way you'd always get his orders right. Or maybe it was how you always had that beautiful smile on your face. It could even be that you were kind to everyone you meet as you went by your way. He didn't know what made him gravitate towards you, but honestly, he didn't really mind.

Tim never thought he'd say it, but he started to look forward to going to work. Going to work meant that he was going to visit the coffee shop, and going to the coffee shop meant he was going to see you. And honestly,

He was head over heels for you.

"Mr. Drake? Are you okay?" You ask on a random tuesday morning, curiously watching him from behind your lashes.

"Uh, yeah, yeah." He blinks and smiles at you kindly, "Also, I told you to call me Tim, (y/n)."

"Mr. Allis will kill me if he hears me call you by your first name." You laugh, and shake your head, "Anyways, black coffee with a hint of vanilla, right?"

"Right." Tim nods and leans towards the balcony to stare down longingly as you moved.

You look up at the boy and raises one of your eyebrows, a small smirk creeping on your lips, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tim lets a sigh out. Honestly, go to hell with his self control. He opens his mouth before he can think better of it, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Uh?" You stop your motions to look at him, "I- I don't. Why do you ask?"

"Look I-" The man starts, but closes his mouth. Breathing deeply, Tim ignores his flushing face and opens his mouth again, "I know a place. If you- I was wondering if you'd like to, I don't know, maybe hang out with me."

You stare at him for a few moments then asks quietly, "Are you asking me out, Mr. Drake?"

Tim flushes and coughs awkwardly on his hand, "M-Maybe? I mean, you don't have to if you feel uncomfortable. Damn, I made you uncomfortable, didn't I? I'm so sorry, I just really like you-"

"Tim." You call out, stopping his rambling and stealing his attention. Smiling down at him, you tilt your head, "I really like you too."

"You do?" He asks hopefully.

"I do." You nod, confirming, "And I'd love to go on a date with you."

"Cool! Sweet! Amazing!" Tim shoots you a bright beam, "You won't regret it, I promise you."

"I know I won't." You utter as a red blush creeps onto your face, "I'm gonna give you my number. That way we can actually work it out."

The man nods excitedly and watches you grab a pen and a piece of paper.

Tim leaves the cafeteria, 30 minutes late for his meeting, with a cup of coffee on one hand and a special phone number on the other.

He still has a smile on his face when he arrives on his office to a frowing Bruce Wayne.

[goldeunoias]

Decisions.

A/N: I like writing for Jay stans the most because they give me the most reblogs and comments instead of just only leaving likes (which doesn't really do much darlings) soooo here's a Jay fic for you amazing guys &lt;;33333333

Summary: Yandere! JayX Female Reader (it shows bit by bit the more it goes on)

word count: 3,1k i think idk

Warnings: this literally has my favorites, horse cock Jay, teasing dom Jay, like multiple orgasms, just like....horknee thoughts bc it's me....upon proofreading there is like...anal fingering look I'm....a whore okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10 years ago~

Jongseong sniffled as he sat down with his lunch, once again eating alone. Had he known the kids here would be so mean he would've begged his parents to let him stay back where he was from with his grandmother, but to no avail.

"Hello! I like your glasses! They make you look smart. Are you?" the girl who stood in front of him curiously asked. She was the first person who had even bothered to stare in his direction, let alone talk to him.

"U-Uh I don't know. Maybe?" he cautiously replied, waiting for a cruel punchline to follow.

Instead, she giggled, sitting with her lunch in front of him.

"You're cute," she laughed, opening her lunch.

Jongseong looked down shyly, feeling his ears turn into shades of peonies.

From that point on he'd always thought you cuter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stood outside the club, wondering what the hell you were thinking.

You'd never been in a proper relationship.

Never been on a proper date.

And yet here you were, outside a BDSM club with an appointment that you'd made.

"Well, I'm sure women have made dumber decisions," you muttered to yourself, shaking out your sweaty palms and walking inside. The establishment looked excellent and pristine, which was expected since it was your city's nicest and safest S&M club. So at the bare minimum, your impulsive decision was backed by somewhat sound logic.

When you went up to the counter you found a petite lady wearing a mask, though you saw the corners of her eyes turn up as you approached.

"Hello, do you have an appointment?" she said in a soft voice. You nodded and told her your name and appointment time, thankful the receptionist seemed professional and not judgemental like your anxiety had expected.

"You're gonna be in room 305, with Jongseong Park as confirmed in our phone call. We recommend that you shower for hygiene, and there are bathrooms located in each of the rooms. If there are any accommodations missing such as towels, soap, or anything else feel free to use the phone to call and a staff member will bring items as needed. If you feel scared or unsafe at any time there are red buttons in our rooms which can be pressed and staff members will rush to aid you. Our doms go through different training and extensive background checks so rest assured you are in safe hands," she informed you gently, giving you a brief description of how to find your room.

You gave her a sincere "thank you" and walked off to find your room, finding it easy enough thanks to her directions. As expected, when you opened the room no one was there since you were informed on the phone that your master doesn't show up until you've pressed one on the phone, to make sure you have ample time to prep if needed.

From appearance, it looked like a normal hotel room, though upon further inspection you found many BDSM items in the drawers and cabinets. You wrote on your profile and informed me on the phone that you needed someone who would ease you very gently into all of this. You took a shower and got into the bathrobe that was complimentary, still keeping your underwear as you were too nervous to go completely naked just yet.

Taking a deep breath you went over to the phone and pressed one, sitting on the bed and twiddling your thumbs until his arrival. There were three knocks on the door before it slowly opened, the man keeping his head down as he stood at the threshold.

He asked you for your name and you told him, Jongseong raising his head once he had confirmation it was you. His voice was deep and warm, causing goosebumps to rise on your freshly washed skin as he slowly walked over to you.

He knelt down at the foot of the bed where you sat, grabbing your hands and massaging them gently.

"Mm, you're even prettier than the photos they gave me kitten. Is it okay if I call you that?" he inquired sweetly, the gentle command he held in his tone making your spine tingle.

"T-that's okay," you stuttered out, the cotton bathrobe feeling 10x hotter now. "Do you have a preference on what you like to be called?"

You watched as Jongseong cocked his head to the side in playful thought, the shadow of his jawline becoming more prominent as he did so.

"Why don't you call me 'sir'. Or you can call me my name if 'sir' feels too intimidating," he added on, squeezing your hands when he felt your erratic heartbeat through your wrists.

"That works," you rushed out, feeling stupid in his presence. "Sorry you probably have way more experienced clients and better ones than dealing with someone like me," you apologized.

Jongseong shook his head and pulled your hands so you were even closer to him, his lips only centimeters away from yours as he spoke.

"Never feel bad for lack of experience kitten. That's what you're here for isn't it?"

You nodded.

"Exactly. And I'm here to make you feel good. Can I kiss you?" he asked gently, smiling slightly when you nodded. His lips were soft in a way that made your toes curl, your hands clenching the material of your bathrobe as you didn't know what else to do with them.

Jongseong sensing your slight discomfort moved your hands around his neck, gently moving you so you were on your back and he was on top of you.

"When was the last time you were kissed kitten?"

You tensed up at the question and told him through bashful stares that it was freshmen year of college, and you weren't even sure that that counted.

"Sorry, can you tell I'm not the greatest," you muttered out, biting down on your lips in nerves. Jongseong avidly shook his head and pressed his thumb against your bottom lip to prevent you from biting it, cooing at you gently.

"You're just tense is all, holding back. If you came to a place like this that means you have at least some curiosity in kinky sex no?" He teased, holding your chin when you tried to look away from him.

You gulped and nodded.

"Words for me kitten, I gotta have your verbal confirmation on things no?"

"I do." you meekly replied. "I just thought well, um...I'd get more satisfaction if I went to a place like this," you explained to him, your body melting when Jongseong started leaving open-mouth kisses on your neck.

"Mmhmm, tell me more," he urged on, grabbing both of your hands and pinning them above your head.

"I've only had minor sexual experiences in high school and had "real" sex early in college and they weren't good so I gave up on relationships and sex since I didn't-" A moan left your throat as Jongseong's tongue swirled around your pulse.

"Continue kitten," he teased, noticing how you started melting into his touches versus tensing up at them.

"...I d-didn't get good experiences. But I recently got curious and so here I am," you finished. Jongseong came up to your face with a smile that held sinister intent, leaning in close to you.

"Don't worry kitten, I'll make you feel good..." he trailed off, biting your ear gently. "So good that you'll come back to me every time..."

Before you could answer his lips pressed back against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth with ease. His mouth felt hot and the texture of his tongue against yours made you whimper, feeling droplets of his saliva trickle into your mouth.

When he pulled back you instinctively reached for him and Jongseong couldn't help but smile internally as he let you pull him back in, letting you set the rhythm you wanted.

Your skin was so soft against his callused hands, better than he'd imagined as he slid his fingers underneath your robe and undid it. Before you could cover yourself he pinned your hands to your sides and took an erect nipple into his mouth, letting you feel the texture of his tongue as it swirled around delicately.

You bit down on your tongue to keep what you thought were embarrassing noises in your throat, Jongseong huffing and coming up to stare at you.

"Why aren't you moaning kitten? Are not feeling good?" he inquired sweetly, circling his warm finger around your saliva-laden nipple. You were caught off guard by it and let out a yelp, rushing to cover your mouth before lowering it.

"It's um, not that...I just won't sound like those girls in hentai or porn and I don't know what I am supposed to sound like...is all," you finished weirdly, following Jongseong's movements as he went to the other pert nipple, delicately flicking it with his tongue.

Your breath hitched and Jay chuckled, his finger tugging at the bud.

"Oh but a kitten, I want to hear you," he drawled slowly, coming up so he was speaking teasingly against your lips. "I want you to have lost your voice by the time I'm done with you. For you to even be heard through the hotel walls," he pushed on.

You gulped at how sultry his voice sounded, your body burning as his calloused hand came in between your thighs. You scrunched your face up and let out a moan at the contact, wondering if he could feel the slick that covered your underwear.

"Thatta girl, show sir how good you're feeling," he praised gently, kissing your jawline.

"Can you...," you stopped yourself at your own nerves.

Jongseong stopped and perked up, his carob eyes making you feel extra shy. "No no what is it, tell me kitten."

You swallowed thickly. "I've never really, well never actually had a guy eat me out andIwantedtoknowhowitfeltlike," you managed out, unable to make eye contact with him. You didn't need to because he was already inching down your body and tugging down your underwear before you could even say anything.

His grip was strong on your calves as he firmly held your legs open, Jonseong's breath getting heavier as he saw your arousal-coated core.

"You wrote in your profile that you don't like it when it's shaved so I didn't," you muttered gently, feeling embarrassed from how intently he was staring.

"Shit kitten~ your pussy's so goddamn pretty, I mean you're dripping onto the sheets already," Jongseong groaned, the tone of his voice causing you to clench around nothing.

You didn't even realize a guy could get so turned on by you, let alone from a region that you found rather embarrassing.

"D-don't just stare at it," you whined, your chest rising as he dragged a digit down the center, gathering up syrupy beads of arousal.

"Of course not kitten...," he trailed off, flattening his tongue against your core and you let out a moan. You didn't realize how textured someone's tongue could be and how warm and wet it was until was circling around your swollen clit, your head lolling off to the side as you gripped his hair.

Jongseong could hardly contain his excitement as sweet honey coated his tongue, spelling out his name with his tongue against your folds.

"You seem to like the letter "o" of my name don't you kitten," he cooed as he slid a single digit in. He raised his brows at the amount of resistance that was met and your reaction, your hands gripping the pillow tighter.

"Do you not finger yourself at all sweetheart?" he inquired as he left open-mouthed kisses on your aching core, curling it in an area that you'd never reached. You shook your head and felt your stomach contract at the feeling, feeling your head get lighter at the sensation.

"It never felt good when I did it and then when a guy did it it just hurt a lot," you whimpered out, your voice breaking at the end as he slid a second digit in.

You never knew that having your core stretched out could feel so good, the squelching noises coming from you making your face burn in bashfulness.

Jongseong on the other hand was reveling in it all, doing his best to not push you to your very limits: he wanted to make you cry and blubber out his name, paint your walls white with his cum, and other sinful things.

Your whimper of "jongseong" snapped him out of his thoughts, the innocent and expectant eyes you gave him almost making him cum right then and there.

"S-sorry I didn't mean to call your name when you said sir but you were lost in thought," you answered, flinching slightly when Jongseong came up face to face with you, shoving his fingers in knuckle deep.

"Shit, I knew there was a reason you shouldn't have said my name," he panted out, pressing on the spongy spot on your walls at every chance he could.

"Why is t-that," you yelped out, legs closing around his hand as you felt a tight knot form in your lower belly. You also felt something else building up as he alternated between pressing down on your clit and scissoring your core, your hands meekly attempting to push his wrist away.

"Because if you say my name I won't be able to hold back," he groaned, his breath hitching as you moaned his name out again.

"I think something weird is going to come out, waitwaitwait," you croaked, your nails leaving claw marks down his tan skin.

"Shhh it's okay kitten just let it out, I got you I got you," he pushed softly in your ear.

Your legs tried to clamp around his hand to stop his movements but his reactions were quicker, situating himself so you could only close your legs around his waist.

"Don't be scared sweetheart, make me proud yeah? It'll feel really good, promise," he cooed at you as he put more force behind his movements, wanting you to unravel from the seams.

Your eyes fluttered for a second as the knot snapped. You were still pushing his hand away as liquid gushed from between your legs, tears forming in your eyes as you felt a pleasure so intense it felt like your body would give out right then and there.

"I-I got your robe wet," you said through panted breaths, trying to say anything to divert the attention away from the liquid that soaked your form and partially his.

Jongseong smiled to himself at the attempt, undoing with with ease and tossing it somewhere in the room. You couldn't help but stare at the erection that was practically forcing its way of his briefs, Jongseong lowering the waistband so you could see him fully.

There was a trail of hair that led from his lower abdomen to his erection, your eyes glued to the area like you were in a trance.

"You can touch it kitten, it doesn't bite," Jongseong purred, gently sitting you up so you could reach him with ease. You wrapped your hand around his length and were surprised at the warmth and weight you felt against your hand.

You gave it a gentle squeeze to see how he'd react and were surprised to hear him hissing through his teeth, his abdomen clenching at your timid movements.

"Why don't you get it nice and wet so it can go in easy yeah?" Jongseong cooed, his dick already twitching at the thought of pushing past your gummy walls.

You gathered up courage and wrapped your mouth around him, hollowing out your cheeks and relaxing your jaw to the best of your abilities. Maybe it was because his intoxicating smell but you were salivating to the point of having droplets trickle down your chin as you got greedy to take more of him.

"Easy there kitten, don't force all in at once," he cooed through a hissed breath, head swimming at how hot your mouth was. You nodded and pulled off of him to circle your tongue around his tip like a popsicle, a sheen glossing his member as you coated it with your saliva.

"That's a good girl~ making me so proud. See how deep you can take me hm?" You nodded and took a deep breath before slowly relaxing your throat around him, the intense groans and pants leaving him giving you more courage.

You weren't able to get down to the base but you were pretty damn close, Jongseong pulling you off of him before he came down your throat.

The cool demeanor Jongseong had started with was gone: his cheeks were rose and there was a sheen of sweat across his body, a ragged "get on your stomach" leaving him as he stroked his member with your saliva.

You did as you were told and gripped the pillows anxiously, Jongseong chuckling and bending over you.

"Don't worry princess, we're gonna make it fit," he taunted against your ear, raising you up by your hips. He grabbed a condom and ripped it with his teeth before pulling down on himself, stroking his base languidly.

You felt the air get knocked out of you as he forced his mushroom head past your walls, your legs kicking from underneath him as you felt the push.

"Jongseong it's not gonna fit, it's not," you pleaded with him, fat tears rolling down your sweaty cheeks. It was a mistake to show him your crying face because it only egged him on more, a saccharine-sweet smile coming onto his lips.

"A good pussy takes any cock that it's given, kitten. Don't you wanna be my good girl?" he emphasized, forcing in another couple of inches. You nodded through your tears, shaking when Jongseong grabbed your hand and pressed it against your lower belly.

"Look kitten, you can feel where I'm going inside you. Do you think I'll be able to touch your cervix?" he almost taunted you, a muffled moan leaving you as he bottomed out.

"I-I don't know" you whelped out, feeling your inner thighs get sticky as cock his pushed out more droplets of syrupy essence.

Every breath you took caused your stomach to press against his member, Jongseong enveloping his large hands in yours on either side as he started moving. You couldn't even moan as you felt your head get lighter, only able to process how his member was stretching you so much.

Jongseong swore as you clamped down on him like a vice, pulling back some so he could see you leak around his cock. "Oh sweetheart, wouldn't you look stunning like this in Polaroids," he mused, his cock twitching inside of you at the thought of having black and white photos of your cum leaking out of your core and bite marks littering your soft skin.

He chuckled when your walls fluttered around him for a moment at the thought, burying your head in the pillow in shame.

"Oh? Seems princess would be into it?"

You hesitantly nodded.

Jongseong pulled your chin from your pillow and turned you around so you could see his darkening eyes, that same saccharine smile coming onto his lips.

"Next time yeah?"

"Next time....?" you repeated, gripping the headboard when Jongseong snapped his hips into you, trying to ease yourself away from the full feeling.

Jongseong only chuckled at your pathetic attempt to flee from his length, pushing your hips back against his as punishment for even attempting to get away.

He smiled, watching as your other hole twitched before letting a trickle of saliva from his mouth seep into the area. "Of course kitten next time. What, did you think you were gonna leave me?" He cooed, rubbing the area before sliding his middle finger in. Your legs spasmed underneath his at the intrusion, burying your mouth into the pillow as you groaned heavily.

"No, but don't you have other clients?" you inquired as he curled his finger and moved his member at the same time, your hands reaching back to meekly push his waist away.

He pouted and kissed your ear gently before using his weight to pin your body down, his hips starting to pick up faster.

"Not anymore."

**********************************

Jongseong walked outside the hotel room, giving the guy who waited outside the wad of cash as promised.

"Can't believe you looked everywhere just for one girl," He said in amusement, flicking his head to the room where you slept. "Think she'll find out you don't work here?"

Jongseong smiled and leaned against the wall. "Doubtful. And we're gonna keep it that way," he warned, putting on a soft smile as he walked back into the hotel room. He leaned over your restful form and kissed your cheek, his hands rubbing over the beautiful marks he'd left.

You rustled in your sleep but still lay there, Jongseong playing with the hem of the t-shirt he let you wear.

"You're all mine now kitten, all mine."

**********************************

feedback leads to me writing more for certain members so remember that and leave a comment, reblog, or anon!

there shan't be a part two <3 tho.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Wanna Try? - Gaz x Reader

Thinking about Gaz in the worst way possible

Thanks to @shotmrmiller for indulging in the brain worms with me.

Content Warnings - DUB-CON. I cannot stress this enough, this is dub-con, pretty much bordering on noncon. Anal, PiV, throat fucking, weed usage, Gaz is maybe kinda lacing the weed. Photos and videos being taken and sent to others without consent!

I've never been high before so; inaccuracies!!

You are responsible for your own media consumption. Don't read this if you KNOW you won't like it.

You had been curious about getting high. You'd never done it before but the way other people talked about, well you were curious. So you brought up with your boyfriend Kyle, asking him about it. He had been open about his personal usage for weed, helps clear his head after coming back from deployment and with the aches in his joints.

So of course he was willing to let you experience the high. He rolled up a blunt and handed it to you, demonstrating the best he could on how to handle the smoke. You coughed and wheezed the first few times but the fuzziness set in almost immediately. "Totally normal love. It's your first time after all."

Your movements are sluggish, it feels like your brain is a static TV. Your tongue feels swollen and heavy, too thick in your mouth. Your words slur like you're drunk and you can vaguely feel Gaz undoing the buttons of your trousers.

"What're doing?" You slur, trying to focus your eyes but find it too difficult so you close them. Some part of your brain acknowledges what he says, even if it's drowned out by the static. He doesn't sound like you do, do you even recall if he had more than one puff?

"Taking care of you. Don't worry."

Vaguely you wonder what can you do? You must've said it aloud because he murmurs something about taking it. Gaz absolutely enjoys seeing how oversensitive you are. Every other sense is dulled down but the way he works your already slick hole open for him. You're overly aware when his hot tongue swipes at your clit but your mouth feels like cotton you can barely moan.

The world spins and you jolt when you feel something push into you. Your nerves are raw, every sensation drawn out and at least tripled. It stings, it burns.

"Kyle," you whine and you feel him slip something sweet into your mouth.

"Chew and swallow dove." He commands and you do as he says, mind numb to the glint in his eyes.

"You can't." You slur.

"You can and will take it."

You wake up sore, it kind of hurts to sit and your memory is fuzzy. You were sure just smoking weed wasn't supposed to give you such fuzzy memories. But Gaz tells you it's normal, it was your first time getting high, what do you know? You suppose that's true and it did feel nice to get out of your head for a little while.

He's pushing you to do another session sometime that week. "You enjoyed it yeah? Let's do another then love."

Convinces you that the reason your throat hurts is because you aren't used to the weed yet. Still, something within your gut is ringing the alarm. That weed wouldn't result in your ass hurting or how sticky your panties are after sobering up.

It's a few weeks later, and several smoke sessions, that you need to use his phone since yours was dead. He handed it to you without thinking and pressed a quick kiss to your lips saying he's heading down to the store to grab a few things for dinner. You can't help but think about how doting he is, how wonderful he's been these last weeks.

It's curiosity that has you checking his gallery app. And maybe a want to find a cute picture he took of himself to use as a new lock screen. Your breathing stops and your stomach rolls when you see his latest videos and photos. Of course there's the usual selfies he takes with that radiate smile but you see pictures of yourself.

Pictures of you looking up into the camera, your lips stretched around his cock and spit dripping down your chin. Eyes glassy with tears and red from the weed. You tap on the most recent video, taken the same day you smoked with him. His hand is in your hair, soft grunts coming from his lips as he pistons his hips against your face. Soft gags coming from you that turn more violent the harder he fucks your throat.

"that's it's dove." He groans and his fist tightens in your hair. You vaguely realize he's coming down your throat.

You slide to the next video. Your ass is in full view of the camera, slapped red and raw. Your back arched as he fucks his cock into your ass. He spreads the cheeks with one hand so he can video it better. Your moaning and mewling in the background that gets louder the harder he fucks you.

"you love this don't you?" You weakly nod your head in response, "love it when your boyfriend uses you while you're high? What a slag." His hand comes down harshly on your ass that results in a yelp from you. You close out of the video, close out of the app and set the phone down.

Just be grateful you didn't look into his messages where he's been sending these pictures and videos to the rest of the task force.

[blueicequeen19]

A Lesson

Warnings: age gap, virgin reader, cheating, creampie, oral

You push on the large wooden door when there's no answer, stumbling at how easy the door gives away and finding yourself in a room you'd never been in before. There's a groan and a scoff that draws your attention to the far side of the room, finding Rafe's father sitting at his desk with a very unhappy look on his face. For a moment you couldn't help but think how handsome he was despite his age. How old was he? 40? 50?

"Can I help you, dear?" His father, Ward, asks like you've just interrupted something very important that he has to get back to. You inch closer, feeling much safer in his presence than you do around his coke head son. It's not until you're directly in front of his desk that you notice his button undone on his slacks and a bottle of lotion perched on the desk. You'd seen enough movies to know what they meant and you felt yourself heat all the way down to your toes as you tried to think about anything but that.

"I-I--."

"You're Rafe's little girlfriend right? The flavor of the week?" Ward draws, bringing his scotch to his lips and your temper flares in annoyance as he downs the liquor. Why was he being rude?

"I--yes. I'm Y/N. I couldn't find Rafe. I got lost. I didn't mean to disturb you." You mumble, turning to leave but Ward waves his hand before pouring himself another drink.

"Please, sit. I'd like to get to know the girl taking up so much of my son's time. Why he insists on never coming to the job sites with me." Your face pinches in confusion at Ward's words. Rafe was never with you. Why did he think you were looking for him in the first place? You were together but you spent more time apart than together.

"He's never with me, Sir." You tack on the 'sir' without meaning to and Ward's gaze darkens, his red rimmed eyes scanning over your body and down your long legs before finding your eyes again. You’d worn a new low cut sundress to try and get Rafe’s attention but it seemed you gained someone else’s on accident.

"Surely my son isn't spending time with someone else when he has..you." Ward takes another drink, his eyes watching your every move as you nervously cross and uncross your legs. Was Rafe cheating? Or was it the drugs? At your silence, Ward sighs before continuing his interrogation.

"Have you fucked my son?" Your eyes widen at Ward's brazen words but you find yourself shaking your head, unable to resist answering. Ward seemed like somebody who demanded respect from everyone, no matter the room.

"Why not?" Ward presses, his body leaned back casually in his large leather chair while he circles the rim of his glass with two fingers.

"I don't think he likes that I'm inexperienced, Sir." You breathe, nibbling your bottom lip as Ward's body tenses in the chair. One hand balls into a fist that he quickly hides in his lap before sitting straight up in his chair.

"Are you telling me you're a virgin?" Ward growls, almost angrily. You nod, your body buzzing and riddled with feelings you couldn't explain. You were burning up. Rafe almost made you feel dirty and undesirable for being a virgin but Ward almost acted like you should be treasured. That you were a gift.

"Have you ever had an orgasm? A proper orgasm?" Ward insists, his blue eyes ablaze in the dimly lit room. It made you wonder why he was up so late working.

"No, Sir." You swallow as Ward runs a hand through his hair and downs the last of his scotch before pushing back in his chair and waving you over with two fingers. You stand without thinking but it only takes a moment for your brain to catch up with your body.

"W-why?"

"Because I'm going to give you one. Now come around the desk and bend over it in front of me. I want to look at you." Ward says in a low terrifying voice that has your pussy pulsing and your nipples hardening. You should walk away. You should go look for Rafe. But Rafe never came looking for you. He didn't care about you or what you did.

That's what you told yourself anyway as you rounded the desk with your head down and quickly bent over the wood surface to display yourself for his father, completely submitting. You'd never wanted anything more in your life than Ward's approval at this moment.

The fabric of your sundress is folded up over your back and you hear Ward suck in a breath through his teeth. A million different things run through your head. Was something wrong?

"You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. You poor thing." Ward groans, surprsing you with a faint touch against your slit. You jerk, making Ward chuckle as he brings up his other hand to caress the back of your thigh in a soothing manner.

"Relax. I won't do anything you won't like, I promise." His words bring you a sense of comfort but you can't stop the way your body trembles as he slowly eases your panties down your legs and spreads your pussy for him to look at. You flinch when you feel him blow on your clit and he chuckles, gently pressing a finger against your swollen nub.

"So responsive. Don't move, sweetheart." Ward says before burying his face in your pussy from behind. You yelp in surprise from the intrusion but also from the sudden pleasure. It felt good. So fucking good.

"Goddamn. I knew my son was a fucking idiot." Ward moans against your flesh. His mouth slurped and sucked at your pussy like it was the sweetest dessert he'd ever tasted, his large hands keeping you spread and open for him. You bit your lip to keep from crying out but the pleasure only seemed to build and build, intensifying with every passing second.

When he suddenly stops, you're left panting and trembling, your knees giving out so you're forced to hold on to the desks ledge to keep from sliding to the floor. You start to turn to ask why he stopped when Ward suddenly stuffs some fabric in your mouth, clamping his hand down over your lips to keep you from spitting it out. It was your panties.

"Keep that in there." Ward demands before pulling away again. You were burning alive. Your body aching for something it had never had before as you hear the whisper of his zipper lowering and his slacks hitting the floor at his feet. You reach back, not sure your intentions but he quickly pins both your hands to your back with one of his, the heat of his cock slipping between your legs. The trembling doesn't subside as Ward slips his cock back and forth through your slit, coating himself in your arousal before finally letting the head catch on your entrance.

"This might sting." Ward whispers before slipping inside you, that sting he mentioned bringing tears to your eyes.

"Breathe. Let me in this pretty pussy." Ward grunts, pushing in further as his grip tightens on your wrists. You whimper, lifting up on your toes and unintentionally letting him slip in further.

"That's it. Good girl." Ward's praise warms you in a way you can't explain. giving you butterflies in a way Rafe never had as he finally pushes in completely.

"You came looking for my son and you end up full of me instead. Who woulda thought?" Ward chuckles darkly before withdrawing to the tip and slamming back in, pinning your body against the desk as you yelp.

"God, you're so tight. Do you know how long it's been since I fucked a virgin? Jesus Christ." Ward starts to fuck you, not caring about the pace or the ryhtm despite you being a virgin. He fucks you hard and brutal, stretching you painfully, and leaving you sore with every pull of his body. You whimper against your panties as that tightening quickly takes over deep in your cut and your body starts to grow more and more taunt, tears streaming down your eyes.

"Fuck, you're cumming. Don't stop. Keep cumming. Let me feel it. Cum on my cock. Be a good girl. Let me fuck you through it." Ward groans, slamming inside you even harder than you thought possible as a wave of euphoria washes over you so hard you see stars. You scream against the gag until your body goes limp and you can't hold your head up anymore, Ward's pace only starting to slow but not stopping.

"Dad?" You blink as you try to list your head to see a shocked Rafe standing across the room at the door, a look of pure shock and betrayal on his face. You mumble against the gag but Ward doesn't stop, his hips slamming against your ass hard and deep.

"Learn to knock, son. Let this be a lesson to you." Ward growls before releasing a strained groan and filling you to the brim with his load, the warmth quickly starting to trickle down your thighs before he's even done. You barely catch a glimpse of the door slamming before Ward stops and drops down on your back, his breathing just as uneven as yours.

"H-how did you k-know I was on b-birth control?" You pant as Ward straightens and pulls you up with him. Ward sits in his chair, spinning you around and hauling you onto his lap just as you notice the blood along his pubic area.

"I didn't." Ward growls, impaling you on his cock once again and you wince, letting your head fall back on a moan as your nails bite into his shoulders. "Now ride my cock. I'm not done with this pussy yet."

[deafsignifcantother]

hound dog

♥ summary: vox has an infactuaion with a very religious woman and he's trying to win her approval. ♥ relationships: vox x deaf, religious gn reader ♥ word count: 1.9k ♥ notes: the draft was called 'hound dog' and i have no idea why but i'm keeping it, i proofread it but it still might be off bc i'm high rn

"Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it." Matthew 7:13-14

.

Like miniature mirrors, the puddles on the street reflect the vibrant lights emanating from the clubs and electronic stores, creating a mesmerizing sight. The monolithic tower looms over the city, its windows glinting in the moonlight, a beacon of power and mystery.

As a faith-filled woman, you whisper prayers to nobody in particular, looking down at the floor.

Vox is charming, you tell yourself. The necklaces he gifts you lay around your neck and the blouses he's bought you cover your body. But is he genuinely charming? You haven't spent many days around him, and you haven't been able to spend as much time with him as he wishes.

Vox, a mysterious figure, resides in a tower that must be at least forty stories high. What were all those floors even for?

And what's more, as soon as you enter the V tower, his assistants lead you to the elevator. They've been expecting you.

Their elegance takes you by surprise. They go out of their way to match your footsteps; one of them even goes into the elevator and presses the buttons for you. It's as if you're royalty. As happy as you are to be treated this way, you can't help but feel something is off.

You go to his bed and smooth out the lines on his blanket, aligning his layers of pillows to the headboard, picking out the one he bought for you. You've never slept over. What's better: the red sky outside or the blue light in his bedroom?

You look at the clock. Vox'll be back soon. You thought of sitting by the window and looking down at the people below, seeing if you could recognize anyone by this distance. It's like you're on top of the world. No wonder his ego is so high; he looks down on the people around him daily. What an insane life to live. Do you really want to be a part of it?

A little after 5, his arms wrap around you from behind. One of his hands holds your stomach while the other signs princess against your body. You let your stomach relax against his hand; he's applying firm pressure, but his fingers are careful to stay in place.

You place a hand over his. His warmth is contagious.

With a slow caress, he turns you around. His eyes linger before flicking up to your face. Absolutely ravishing, an enchanting figure and an equally beautiful face. He reels his lust back until he can give a comfortable, small smile. You aren't able to concede the thoughts behind that smile.

He reaches away to start signing. That's what he intended, but you interrupt him, holding his waist and pulling him into a hug.

His gloved hands stay in place only briefly, and he wraps them around your neck, holding you against his suit.

He pulls away again, holding your shoulders and keeping you at arm's length. He decides not to comment, considering the possibility you'd slip back to your typical avoidance. His grip falls to your biceps and forearms before reaching to your palms.

You gently remove yourself from his grasp.

"Are you going to surprise me with something?"

"Where is that coming from?"

"Your employees were acting strange."

"Don't let them put thoughts into your head, princess." His smile is strained, his screen glitching enough to be more noticeable than his signs. What a deceptive, alluring surface he shows you.

"I won't." You tuck the topic into your pocket for later.

Like he usually does, he places his hands on your waist and steps forward, forcing you to match his footsteps as he pushes you backward. Once close enough to the bed to find impatience, he picks you up, your arms around his neck and thighs pressed against his hip bones.

Within only a few strides, he throws you onto the plush mattress, not giving himself enough time to bask in your position before he fills his senses with you. He submits to the idea that he will not be allowed to do anything salacious with you; he will need to work with that truth, not against it.

The toes of his short heels hang off the bed as he cages you between his knees, his best attempt at manners. However, as you squirm between his forearms, he struggles to save his balance.

It's the assemblage of decency—feelings pushed away for the 'greater good of self worth.' Because of his challenging stare, your legs freeze, reaching iceberg status. Your hips stop their writhing, and the closing of your fists gives away your opinion on this position.

He moves one arm to his chest. "How much time do you have?"

"Schedule is cleared for you."

It's almost like shivers go through his entire body. For you, you said. Those simple blots of affection feed his ever-blooming interest. He chooses his footing carefully, putting one knee at a time between your thighs. Your legs spread for him, but don't wrap around his hips.

And that's all he does. Your face is almost unrecognizable from his angle. He's never been so close to you like this. You look down at him, shoulders relaxed on his bed, both hands resting on your chest. The look you give him is an unsolvable puzzle.

"Let me stare at you." He almost pleads.

"Do you really like me that much?" There's no way you didn't know the answer.

"You don't need to ask that question, baby. Of course I do. Since I saw you, I knew then that I needed to have you."

.

"Thieves must give up stealing; rather let them labor and work honestly with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy." Ephesians 4:28

.

"When you were alive," you start, sitting on his bed. "Did you really preach the word of God?"

The question is a little awkward, considering how suggestively close you two were only hours before. Vox clears his throat, a discomfiting sound unheard, and he even adjusts his tie.

"How do you know that?"

"Val told me."

That drama-loving cunt.

"Uhm, yeah. I tried to, at least."

"You've never told me that." There's a smile on your face as if you have a genuine hope for his faith.

"It's something from the past," he tries to save himself, "I don't worship anymore. Not really into that kinda stuff."

"What denomination?"

"Protestant."

You purse your lips together and nod. That's not what Val said. "Really?"

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like, to him, an eternity. Why would he lie about his beliefs? Your lips remain pursed together, but now hiding a smile.

"Tell me," you start. "What's the name of the service where bread and wine gets consecrated?"

He squints, holding up one hand, each letter becoming more and more hesitant as his brain tries to find the reason behind your question. "...Eucharist."

"Interesting." You look away only for a moment. "And what translation?"

"KJV, obviously."

"Very good."

"What's this interview for? Marriage?"

You scrunch your nose up. "Why are you lying to me about your religion?"

His head tilts. "What does it matter?"

"Exactly. What does it matter?"

He ignores your question, his eyes flickering around the room with thought before settling back on you, "'Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ.'"

Your eyes investigate his. He has verses memorized. "Okay?"

He gets on one knee, looking up at you, his smile crooked. "Did you believe me?"

"About what?"

His longer fingers grab yours, and he kisses your palm. "That I don't worship?"

Your breath catches in his throat, and you swallow the saliva that pools. Woah, woah, woah.

Sometimes, it feels like more than one person is inside of Vox. You never realize this trait when you watch him on television, but depravity takes over when you're close to him. Seductive, bruting, desirable but enticing. He stares up at you, seemingly unbothered by your lack of response. "I'll take that as a yes."

You remove your hand from his. "What was the gift you were going to give me?"

A hum of confusion leaves his throat as if he's been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. 'Your employees were acting strange.'

Vox's eyelids flicker close to hide his rolling eyes. He stands and doesn't fix how his pants start wrinkling around the knees. The gift is either going to be a win or a loss. You may already have gotten such a rare treasure like this. Still, at the same time, he would have definitely heard you talk non-stop about it.

You both move around the room. You sit on his plush bed while he disappears into his closet. A dress? You hope not; there's no reality where it wouldn't be entirely salacious. Else, new shoes, he's known for spoiling you. A skirt, a purse, a fur coat?

But he emerges with a box, a cheap bow placed on top of it. You can only smile. "Wow," you raise your eyebrows. "Thanks."

He stands tall, holding it out to you. For him, it's big enough to hold in one hand, but you have to use two to grab it.

The bow comes off with one swift movement, and the box is opened by lifting the lid. You lift it slowly, taking in the anticipation. Truthfully, you're ready for a bummer.

But the sight of it stuns you.

A holy bible, worn but beautiful. The black cover is lifted to show use and is unstained, unaltered.

And before you show excitement, you put the box aside and open it, flipping through the pages. Quite a few books were missing. A few pages were annotated, and many verses were highlighted. Your eyebrows furrow. It's natural, not anything hellish or fake. An actual bible in the depths of hell.

"How did you get this?"

The brightness in your eyes makes everything worth it. He caught a combination of priests, pastors, and nuns, forcing them to write what they remembered. He knew some verses himself, of course. And perhaps you'd be able to fill in the blanks.

He even listened enough to know your favorites. They are highlighted and mixed with his favorite scriptures.

"Uh, I found it somewhere."

You hug it close to your chest. The Lord's love radiates into your heart; you can feel all the prayers you've made, and the days you've spent being loyal to Jesus Christ.

Your eyes, glowing with love, look up at him. "Thank you so much. I owe you my life."

If you were any other person, he'd grab your hand and force you to honor his corrupted glory for eternity. But instead, he sits next to you, tilting his screen to make you keep eye contact. "Anything for you."

.

"I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!" John 16:33

i couldn't find a way to fit this in but this one too:

"If I say to the wicked, "You shall surely die," and you give them no warning, or speak to warn the wicked from their wicked way, in order to save their life, those wicked persons shall die for their iniquity; but their blood I will require at your hand." Ezekial 3:18

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

THIS WHOLE THING HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BE ONE BIG 'OL T/W. SO, PLEASE, READ ALL OF THE ⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️ AND DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU FEEL LIKE THIS IS SOMETHING THAT WILL LEAD YOU TO A DARK PLACE.

T/W = CONSENSUAL CONSENSUAL CONSENSUAL P->V WITH A DR (THERAPIST!SANEMI), ORAL (M->F), BRIEF MENTION OF DRUGGING DRINK, TALK OF DEPRESSION, IMPLIED DESPONDENCY, NOT SHOWERING FOR A FEW DAYS, BROKEN HIPPOCRATIC OATH, THERAPIST!SANEMI FIRES Y/N FROM BEING HIS PATIENT IN ORDER TO PURSUE "OTHER MUTUAL INTERESTS", LITTLE BIT OF CUM TALK, GROSS OVERUSE OF ITALICS CONSENSUAL CONSENSUAL CONSENSUAL

*Anything I missed that you think I should add to the warnings? Horrific spelling/grammar error? Please message me, and I'll see what can be done.*

WC - About 5.5k

Dr. Feel Good

"Hi, Dr. S. I uh, well, I'm not going to be able to make my appointment tomorrow. I'm sorry this is technically less than 24 hours. Bill me for any time you may have lost. Whatev– thanks. Oh, this is y/n, by the way, and it's about 4 o'clock. Bye. You don't have to call me back. Bye."

You pressed the red button on your cell phone and hung up the call with Dr. Shinazugawa's voice-mail and climbed back into your bed. The rain beat against the windows in rhythm with the tears falling to your face.

It was November 1st. Fall was in full swing. And once again, you were not. Your 24th birthday was coming up soon. And you'd fallen into the same routine as last year. Going through the motions: work, family, the few friends you had. But you're fairly certain they were sick of you. So it was just a matter of time before they stopped calling. It's not like you're blowing up their phones to remind them you're still around.

The phone rang. You didn't even bother to see who was calling before you turned it over to silence the assault on your quiet cocoon. [Beep beep]. One more message you won't respond to. "I don't wanna talk. Go away." It started ringing again.

"Fuck, what, hello?" You sniffed and pulled the down comforter off of your face. You didn't want it to sound like you were still in bed as you squirmed around to get comfortable.

"Hello! Y/n? I just got your message." Silence on your end. "Are, are you there?" You cleared your throat. What's the point of talking anymore. "Ah, there you are." Dr. Shinazugawa said a little too cheerfully.

You're surprised by the inflection of his voice. You often thought he was like you; dark. But he was your therapist. You were not his. So you didn't worry about him like you assumed he worried about you. Like you hoped he did. More wasted energy.

"Y/n, c'mon. Will you say something to me?" Sitting up in bed, "Why." You said flatly. You could hear his breath slow a little, and you sort of wondered why his breathing would ease up when you spoke on the other end of the line. You wondered how someone like you could bring ease to anyone.

"Because I wa–" He stopped for a moment. "I need to know you're alright." There was a pregnant pause. "Y/n? Are you? Ok?" You sniffed again. Could he hear you crying? "Will you please come in tomorrow and talk with me?" He could hear the hurt in your words. "I'd like to see you."

"I'll see you next week, Dr. S. Have a nice weekend. Bye." You took the phone away from your ear before you'd even started to say you'd see him at your next appointment. You didn't want to give him that crucial second before disconnection to try and change your mind. He was just your therapist. Not Jesus. Though you could easily find yourself at his feet asking for miracles. No matter, you weren't religious anyway.

You blew your nose, turned your phone and laptop off, and tucked yourself in for the remainder of the day.

***

A loud knocking at the door woke you from another sleepless night. You glanced at the clock, 12:37. Afternoon. You stomped across your apartment to look through the peephole. "Y/n ... you awake? Are you home?" You rubbed the last traces of sleep from your face and contemplated not answering him. "I, I brought coffee. Y/n, please. And I heard you walking around in there."

"Shit. I need to get some rugs in here." He laughed at your grumble and started in again, "If you open the door I won't charge you for the late cancelation notice. That's $120⁰⁰ more you'll have to, hell, I don't know, buy hoodies with?"

A smile warmed its way across your face, and you unlocked the door. "You know me too well, Dr. S. It's a little scary." He handed you the coffee, trapping your hand in his own when your fingers stretched out to take the paper cup. You couldn't help but feel small when it registered that he was intentionally touching you. Your eyes met, and just as quickly, you pulled away from him. Nothing about that meant anything.

"They were out of the cups they usually use, so it's in one meant for hot drinks. But, caramel ribbon crunch, extra crunch. Is that right? That's your favorite, right? Anyway, I'm sure you're sick of hearing me ask you this. But are you? Ok, I mean. Why did you cancel the appointment? May I?" He gestured to the black leather couch in your dark living room, and you nodded. "Dr. S, are you trying to therapize me in my own home? Tch, on my couch, too. For shame." He sat down leaning back and casually crossed his left leg over his right, his ankle sat on top of his knee. "There are plenty of other things to do on a leather couch, y/n. Treating you is far from the worst of them." He smiled slyly at you. It made your cunt clench.

A weird look spread over his face. It started at his eyes and continued down to his mouth. Your paranoia and social ineptitude reared their ugly heads.

"Ex-excuse me for a moment, please. I …" You turned your palms over, raising them with your shrugging shoulders, "make yourself … comfy." He nodded, "By all means." You went to your bedroom and threw on something that didn't smell like it was a week old and checked your breath/hair/eyes/pits & tits. Fixing what was needed, you went back out to the living room.

You found Dr. Shinazugawa looking over the photos you had on the fireplace mantel. Pictures from your childhood to adolescence to last Christmas. "You look really happy in these photos, y/n." Dr. S said. You rolled your eyes and caught yourself immediately. "Shit," you said, rubbing your palms down your face.

"Y/n, what do I say about rolling your eyes?" You started to roll them again but caught it.

"There's nowhere more important to look than forward. Yeah, yeah, doc. Ok."

He smiled. Proud that he thought of something he felt was so profound (even though you thought it was cliché) and that you finally remembered the whole thing. "What are your plans for the near future? Anything exciting with friends, uh, how's the dating game – maybe a date?" He asked, the smile fading quickly from his face.

"Oh, well I am having high tea at The Ritz with Prince Harry and Meghan at 2. And then I was going to my guitar lesson with Jimi Hendrix at 3:30. Uhm, I had one more thing planned but I completely forg–"

Dr. Shinazugawa stood up and walked over to you. He was unnervingly close as you prattle on about your pretend plans. He looked at you like he was conflicted about what he wanted to say. What he wanted to do. He studied your face closely.

"Dr. S.?" You said, suddenly realizing how fucking attractive he is. His white hair was cut choppy and it was slicked back enough that it mostly stayed out of his way. Though some pieces fell in front of his face. He had muscle. He had tattoos. He had scars. All of which stuck out from the white v-neck cashmere sweater he wore. His black cropped pants hem sat a few inches above his ankle. He wore old-school Vans. The man was a walking orgasm. How had you never noticed this about him before?

"I wonder if maybe you shouldn't find a new doctor? I feel like more and more you've been canceling your sessions left and right and this chemistry spans beyond the typical doctor/patient relationship between us. Unless I've been imagining you undressing me with your eyes for the last 5 months?"

Ow. "Um, n–no. Pffft. And I don't want a new doctor. I want you. You're the only one in my life who gives a shit if I pick up the phone. You're so good you came to me. No one else would do that. I know they wouldn't." You could feel your heart snapping into pieces with each of his coercions to find someone else to hear your deepest and darkest confessions. "And I *scoff* heh, undressing you? That's highly inappropriate, doctor. But, um, why? Why ... would you have a problem with that?" Settle the fuck down, y/n.

"Do you want me to answer that from the perspective of me being a man in the presence of a woman? Or as a doctor? Your doctor?" He walked over to the couch and beckoned you to sit with him. Though it ought to have been pins and needles you were sitting on. It ought to have been him you were sitting on.

"What ... Dr. S?"

His face rested in his hands before he looked into your eyes. It was so hard to read his expression. His pupils were dilated. His lips turned to a frown and his brow furrowed creating deep lines in his perfect face.

Dr. Shinazugawa sighed and looked at you for a moment before reaching out to your face. "Y/n, I want you to know something." Your heart was starting to rattle against your chest. Fuck.

"What I'm about to do is not coming from Dr. Shinazugawa. It– it's coming from me, Sanemi. Ok? Is that ok?"

He picked a couple of pieces of your hair that had fallen from behind your ears and gently tucked them back into their tight little space.

"Ah, fuck." He said moving his hands to his lap and breaking eye contact with you.

You, on the other hand, had never wanted him to look at you more.

"Y/n." He said your name like it hurt his lips to let it slide past them.

"What is it, Jesus. Did my insurance not pay for the sessions or something? You're being weird."

He reached his hand up and ran his fingers across your cheek.

"Is this ok?" He whispered. His eyes were nearly all dark as he tickled the invisible hair on your face.

Your eyes shot open at the touch. "Doc–tor." Was all you could manage to say. He put his index finger up to your mouth and traced your lower lip. "Mm-mm. Not doctor. Just ... just Sanemi. If, if you'll have me.

"You're beautiful, y/n." He said that so quietly that you barely heard him. You're so shocked you can hardly speak.

"Pardon?" Your e/c eyes are huge, looking at him like you've never seen him before. "Did ... did you just say I'm beautiful?"

"I've tried everything to keep myself from thinking about you. I have to jerk off in my locked office before you come in for your appointment. If I don't – sweet Jesus, if I don't I have to keep my legs crossed for the full 55 minutes just to keep my cock from bursting through my zipper like a professional ball player pitched it. You have no idea how hard it is for me to sit there and listen to you talk about how you have no friends or hobbies. And how you despise the dating scene because all the guys you meet are morons. But you're so ... ahh, y/n. I can't see myself making it through one more appointment with you. You drive me up a wall. Just sitting there. Bitching about everything. I want to rip your pants off and make you feel something –! Shit. Shit!" He huffed out the air that sat in his lungs throughout his whole spiel. His chest was heaving as he tried to compose himself. Not doing a very good job.

"Holy shit." You sat there dumbstruck as you were so taken aback by his comments about your personal life – the truth he'd so cautiously worked out of your walled-in personality over the last 5 months. You couldn't think of a way to defend yourself against his stupid but keen observations.

"For starters, Sanemi," His eyes lit up at your use of his name. "I hate dating because men my age are all dipshits. My friends, I may not have a lot. But I prefer quality over quantity. As for hobbies, well ... well fuck you. That's my hobby."

"Well, that's one hell of a hobby, y/n." He laughed as he looked back and forth between your slightly open mouth, your tits, and your eyes.

You blushed, but it was more out of anger than feeling cute. "I know."

"Please, y/n. Dont hate me. This comes from a selfish place, but I really, really need you to understand. Please ..." Sanemi leaned over and pressed his lips into yours. So slowly at first. You wanted more. All of him. He put his hands around your thighs as he leaned more into you, and his tongue pushed its way into your mouth.

You moaned and kissed him back as every milligram of your better judgment told you not to. But his reciprocated moan snapped you back to your senses, making you pull away and wipe your mouth off, feigning disgust. More, give me more.

"What–what the fuck was that! Isn't this against the law or something? My god!" You moved to sit across the room on the floor. Follow me. Kiss me again. Pour yourself into me. Rip me apart, put me back together, and do it again.

"No." He was so relaxed about the whole thing. Him showing up at your apartment. Bringing you your favorite coffee. Waving the fee. It was like he'd planned this and he was testing the waters with you.

"Wh–what do you mean no?"

"It's not illegal. Not if you're not my patient anymore. If you don't find a different therapist then, yeah, probably. But–"

You cut off his defense. "I'm going to need a therapist just to work through this shit, Dr. S. Jesus."

He couldn't help but laugh at your theatrics. "I told you, call me Sanemi."

"What's so funny? Hm? Why now? Why me?" Not that knowing the answer to these things would help you understand any better why he was risking losing his license to practice just to profess his affection for you.

"I've tried to tell you before: You're smart and fucking hilarious. We have the same sick sense of humor. You're a mess, a hot fucking mess. You're the funniest person I've ever met, y/n. Why now? I don't know. Maybe I can't risk losing someone who makes me feel this way. Maybe I just want to hold you and be held by you. Maybe I'm attracted to damaged women and their ability to overcome. I don't know what else to tell you except that you're fired. I will no longer see you professionally, y/n."

"Damaged 'women'?" You glared at him and started to take a drink of what he brought you, then you stopped, "Wait ... you didn't, you didn't drug me, did you?!"

He smiled. "No. I prefer to have these types of conversations with conscious people. Not that I've had this conversation a lot! Or, or ever! This is the first time I've ever fallen for a p– well. For you. You're the first time. The first patient of mine I've fallen for. And I meant damaged 'woman'. Just you. My mistake." He smiled at you. Comfortingly. Showing off his perfect white teeth. Like he was drawing your focus from his argument to one more of his many good features. Take me away from here.

You wanted to feel his lips again. Is it that unheard of? People fall for other people all the time, regardless of social status. Regardless of their job. When it boils right down to it, we're just human. Right?

"Y/n, I know what you're thinking. And if you consider it, strip me –" his phone rang, and he pulled it out to see who was calling. "Ok, it was just an alarm. Sorry. Where was I?"

You sat there practically drooling, "The ... the last thing you said was 'strip me' and your alarm went off." Your face was not doing a very good job of hiding where your thoughts had drifted. You looked dizzy and hot. Your lips sat perfectly spaced apart and he couldn't help but notice how your body had changed in such a short amount of time. Please.

"Strip me? Oh! Yeah, strip me of my title and I'm just any other guy. I'm human. We're all humans. Just trying to find someone to climb into bed with at the end of the day."

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose you're right." You admitted, still sounding unsure of the whole situation to his trained ears.

"I don't know how else to explain this to you. My mom is fucked up. My sisters are fucked up. They're the kind of fucked up I know and love. They're funnier than hell and they'd lay their life down for anyone they cared about. But are they ... shit. How do I phrase this? Are they mentally 'sound'? Mmehh. But they're some of the most amazing people I know. You'd fit in in our family quite nicely. My sisters want to meet y–"

He stopped himself and your ears perked up. "Your sisters want what? They want to meet me? Oh my god! How much did you tell them about me!" You stood from the floor to pace around. "Now that I know is against the law! You, you ... HIPAA rule breaker! I should turn you in!" What did you tell them about me?

"Oh ... no no no no! Please don't! I haven't told them anything specific about you! Jesus. Of course, I haven't. They don't even know that you're a regular ..." He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'patient' one more time.

"You need to find someone who, well, who isn't me. I have to see where this goes, y/n." He started at you like he was a statue. Molded and still. Concentrating only on what was in front of him and unable to let his attention fall anywhere else.

You took off your sweater and leaned against the wall in your black tank top and yoga pants. You didn't notice the thin strap hanging off of your shoulder.

Sanemi stood from the couch and glanced over your body for a moment before he took a step toward you. "So ...?"

"So ... what?" You said. "What do you want me to say, Dr. S? If that's even your real name."

"Y/n. You're acting craz–" You cut him off before he could finish the sentence.

"I thought that's how you liked your women!" He couldn't tell if you were being facetious or not. But he was having a hard time maintaining the small distance between the two of your heated bodies. Now or never.

Sanemi threw his hands up in the air and was in front of you in a heartbeat. "Why are you being so fucking obstinate! I'm standing here telling you how I feel and you're just ... you're so ... bahhhh! Fuck this!" He ducked down and flung you over his shoulder. "Where's your room. Where is it!" He demanded.

"What the hell do you think you're doing! P–put ... me ... d–" You lost any fight you had in you when his hand ran over your ass. "Fuck, Dr. ... S–Sanemi."

He flipped you over onto your bed and leaned over you. His breathing was heavy, his eyes were wide and hair had fallen into his face. You reached a shaking hand up to brush it aside but he grabbed your wrist and slammed it down on the bed.

"I. Asked. You. A. Question, y/n. Why do you insist on making this so difficult for me?" He slammed your hand down against the bed again and drove this muscular thigh between your legs, nestling it against your soaking cunt.

You didn't even flinch. You slid down a bit so you could feel the delicious pressure against your aching core.

"Like I have an answer for that, Dr. S." You spat out. You tried to reach for him with your other hand and he grabbed it, too. Slipping both of your wrists into his much larger hand and holding you down against the unmade bed.

"I'm sorry. I've just had these feelings for you for a long time. And they've been driving me up a wall. You're so completely checked out. It's frustrating and fascinating at the same time. You have no idea how much I look forward to seeing you come walking through my door. Your hair is in a fucking wreck of a bun on top of your head. No make-up. Stained sweatshirts and your black leggings with pockets. I fucking want you. Every broken little piece of you. I want to swallow it and make it mine forever. Open up. Here comes the airplane.

"I'm ... sorry?" You said quietly, looking over at your wrists in his hands.

"You should be." He growled at you. "I've been waiting months for you. Months. Months upon months of making sure I have enough time to squeeze out at least one load before you saunter in, completely oblivious to what I was doing."

He was so hard, pressing into your trembling thigh. Give yourself to me.

"Dr. Shinazugawa?"

"What!" He said, very clearly annoyed with your inability to see past the way things are.

"You've still got my wrists."

"I know I do. Do you want me to let go?" He said, but he was not letting go.

"And it's Sanemi." He corrected.

"Sanemi." You said his name and he groaned. He rolled his hips into your thigh as he pressed his face into your neck. The only reaction he got from you was you moving your body toward him.

"You smell so fucking good. Jesus I've been wanting to do this since the moment you walked into my office." His breath was shaky as he inhaled your perfumed skin. "What is that?" He asked with his tongue lightly grazing your skin as he took it into his mouth.

"Do you want the truth?" You asked as you tilted your head more to the side so he could stuff his face even deeper into you.

"Yes, yes. Always tell me the truth, y/n."

"Th–that's just me. It's been a day or three since I've showered. Sorry if that's too gross." You shrugged off any shame you had about this. Quite positive that he's both heard and seen worse than you in your somewhat dirty clothes smelling more like yourself today than any other time you've met with him.

He pulled back and looked at you.

"I don't care if you've not showered. I am not walking away from this. From you. I want you. Period. Full stop."

Your face flushed red. "Wh–what did you just say?"

"Fuck! Do I have to draw you a diagram? I want you. Showered or not." He let go of your wrists pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it on the floor. "Is that ok?"

Your eyes shamelessly took in all of his exposed skin. The scars that spread across his chest were jagged and pale in comparison to the rest of the slightly more tan skin. The tattoos. The fucking tattoos. Large blacked-out pieces cover his muscular arms. There was a katana that started at his sternum and went down ... how far, you didn't know. But the way things were going, you had a feeling you'd soon be finding out where it ended.

"Y/n." His voice was rough and deep.

"Oh. Uh. Uhm. Wow. What did you just say? I ... sorry. I spaced for a second."

He sighed and asked you again if you wanted him to stop. You sat up right away and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Doct– I mean, Sanemi," You said, hesitating for a second as you traced the tip of your nose around his. Your breathing was getting heavy and your eyes were halfway closed. Your brows were pinched together so tightly that if something didn't happen, you'd end up with a massive headache from the unnatural amount of time they'd been like that.

Sanemi put his fingers to your face to massage the little forehead knot you wore. You melted forward into his hand.

"What's wrong? Do – are you ok? Fuck. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Is this ok?" He lifted your shirt off of you and sat it on the bed. You blushed even deeper than earlier and covered yourself.

You shook your head, "I ... I need to shave. I wasn't expecting to be ... with someone today. God this is fucking humiliating. Why do you even like me?"

He grabbed your hips and pulled you up on his lap. His fingers ran over the skin on your ribs.

"I love that you're real. That you're so open and honest. You're beautiful and vulnerable, y/n. Stinky, unshaven and all. Ok?"

"I ... I stink?" You laughed and stuck your face down into the crease of your armpit and then laughed and stopped. The look in his eyes was like nothing you've seen before. It was wild and had a certain restrain all at once. Let go of the reigns.

You leaned in and kissed him. Slowly at first. But it quickly grew to sudden and sloppy movements around each other's bodies. Faces. Necks. Chests. Abdomen. You began to rub yourself against the bulge of his cock. It felt so good you let little noises dance into his ear. "Oh, god you feel s'good." Sanemi, I want to feel you everywhere around me.

"Sanemi, shit. I ..."

He pulled you closer to him and kissed your collarbone from one side to the other. His hands gripped the fat of your ass tightly like he was afraid you were going somewhere.

You shivered, his mouth was hot on your neck and the feeling of his breath against you wasn't quite scratching the itch that was growing under your skin. The friction of your bodies grinding against the other was a frustrating reminder that this all was just out of reach.

You ran your hands down his abs and back up onto his shoulders. He pulled back and looked at you. "Speak." He said with a hint of humor.

"You... you, with your shirt ... off. And, god I really want to know what the rest of that katana tattoo looks like," you said as you snuck a peek at the stretched fabric where his cock was hidden away.

"Take a look." You scooted off of his lap and sat down next to him on the bed as he lay down and stretched out. "Here. Have at it." He gestured to his belt and pants to be removed and he folded his arms behind his head, watching your every move and basking in your reactions.

You moved to his thighs and walked your fingers up to unbutton and unzipped his pants.

Sliding them down his legs, taking his boxers with them, you saw it.

"Fuck, Sanemi ..." You were struck dumb at the sight of his tattooed cock.

"Yeah?"

"I want to ... can I touch you? I mean, it? I mean, is that ok?"

"Yes. C'mere." He grabbed you and pulled you up his body and flipped you onto your back. "But I want to do this first."

"Do wh– ahh!" You weren't expecting him to completely overturn you. But he did and he let his fingers course up the front of your yoga pants. "Let me get a little taste, huh?"

"Oh! Well, I... " You blushed and watched as he pulled your pants down.

"You don't wear underwear, y/n? Or ... just ..."

Your hand flew to your face. "I need to do laundry. God. I could die of embarrassment right now!"

"Y/n. I don't care. It's hot as fuck. Now shut up and let me go down on you."

"But –"

He put his hand over your mouth. "Shut. Up."

"Hmmkm." You barely manage to squeeze your compliance through his warm hand.

"I have been dying to stick my tongue in this wet little pussy of yours. Can I?" He licked his lips like a starved man.

"Mhm, yes, please..." Your face was bright red, but you were not embarrassed. It suddenly felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. You wanted so badly to breathe, but there was only Sanemi. There is nothing else to draw life from. So you did what you knew you wanted to do all along and spread your legs for him in hopes he could renew your faith. In anything.

"I have to have it. I have to taste you. I have to feel you." He whispered as his hands moved up the insides of your legs, spreading them apart. He pushed your knees back against your chest and buried his face between your thighs.

His tongue ran the length of your wet slit and his groan was muffled. He held onto the back of your knees as his tongue lapped at the pool of your juices. He moaned, the vibration adding to the growing pleasure you were feeling.

"Ahh. S–Sanemi ..."

You could feel the heat growing in the pit of your stomach. You tried to close your legs but he wouldn't let you. He was leagues stronger than you. Your legs were no match for his arms.

"Sanemi! Oh, fuck! It - I - ahh god!"

You came all over his face. Your thighs trembled around his ears and your eyes were clamped shut as you tried to hold onto the moment, but you lost it.

You looked down between your legs at Sanemi. He wiped his chin off on his forearm and pushed his hair back from his forehead. His eyes were intense and focused.

"You're mine, y/n. Don't forget it."

"Sanemi." Your voice was so quiet. "I don't think I could ever forget that."

"Good." He slid his hands up your legs and pushed them back again. You could feel his tip press against your sopping entrance.

"Are you ready for me?"

"Oh, shit, Sanemi ..."

He pushed himself into you.

"Ahhh, fuuuuuck. Goddamn it, y/n. You're so fucking wet."

He bottomed out inside of you and groaned. You were so tight. Your walls were squeezing his cock so well. He pulled out and slammed back into you, burying his face in of your chest, nipping at your skin as he pumped his hips.

"S'nemi, fuck. That's ... hmm, so fucking good..."

"That's it, that's my girl, y/n."

His hands slid under your back and grabbed your shoulders. His pace slowed for a moment as he rolled his hips against you, grinding himself deeper into your body.

You had no idea this could feel so amazing. His body weight fell down on you. And the way his hands were holding you in place. It made your body tremble in his grasp. You were completely at his mercy. And you loved it. You wanted it all. You wanted all of him.

"More. God, Sanemi. Please, please. Deeper!"

He picked up his pace and fucked you with abandon, slamming himself into you without regard for anything but the pleasure you two were carving out of each other. His body was hot and he was dripping sweat. His balls slapped harshly against your ass each time he drove into you. Tiny droplets of your juices sprayed around on his thighs.

"Fucking take it, y/n. Take my cock."

"Yes. Fuck. Yes, Sanemi."

"Shit, I'm gonna cum."

"Hmm, me too."

"Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock?"

"Yes, Sanemi! FUCK!" You were so close. "Don't stop. Fuck, don't ... stop. Just... A... YES! FUCK!"

"Shit. Fuck! You're so fucking good, y/n. Cum on my cock, baby. All over me, cum."

You couldn't breathe. You were so full. He took up the space where every void resided in you. You finally felt something other than being put on pause. The world moved, and you wanted to move with it. You wanted to move with him.

The dam is cracking.

He looked at you with new wonder as the tears ran down the sides of your face.

"Are you ok, y/n?" He asked.

"I'm so, so good right now. You can stop asking me that." You half laughed/half sobbed.

"Y/n. My girl, I will never stop asking you that."

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

Thank you – Sarah

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

[starynightcreator]

It's Not All Bad

Chapters: 3-8

Characters included: Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler, and Steve Harington

Word Count: 3,998

No use of Y/N

18+! May be triggering to some!

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Kissing, Shy/ Anxious Reader, Sweet/Protective Eddie, Jealousy, Cursing, Alcohol use, Yelling, Heartbreak, Betrayal, & Friends To Lovers.

Summary: After a betrayal from your best friend and boyfriend, you find comfort in the arms of eddie.

Please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments. This is my first story and I'm a little nervous.

!Must give credit when re-sharing/ sharing. Don't take credit please and thank you!

PART THREE:

You thought he’d decline and maybe change the subject so you figured you’d move on until…

Eddie pulls you into a hug then starts to say “That’s some lame excuse to ask for a hug, Star.” It takes you a minute to realize he’s hugging you but once it hits, it hits hard and you hug back like you’ve been dying for a hug for agesss. “You’re right it is lame i’ll just ask next time.” The smile that appeared on both of your faces said a million things. Good things and you both had the same thoughts too. “Star”“Hmm?”“Yo-you don’t always have to ask…”“I don’t?” Eddie let out a little snicker. No.” “Okay I’ll keep that in mind for next time I want a hug.”“Good. I hate to break up the band we’ve created but you need to get inside so you don’t freeze to death”“Ughhh fine.”Tomorrow isn’t that far away.”“Edds.”“Yeah?”“IT’S TOO FAR!” “You are so dramatic. Now get your butt inside I don’t need you sick” “okay okay i’m going. Thank you for helping me deal with my crap today and going with me to the party tomorrow.” “Don’t thank me Star, I'd do anything for you.” Eddie then turns bright red realizing he let his true thoughts come out. “Welp i’m going to go now, see you tomorrow Star.” You had made sure to remind him like a hundred times what time to come get you for the party. You then waved goodbye as he drove off. You then go inside and lock the door behind you, plopped on your sofa, kicked your shoes off, and pressed the button on the little machine next to you that holds any voicemail if any have been left. Sadly the machine said there wasn’t any. Surely you thought you’d have one from Steve. Yeah you guys aren’t a clingy couple. He sadly isn’t super affectionate. But he was still always so caring and loving towards you. So what happened in this last month or before that, that changed his attitude…. You decided to say fuck it. You didn’t have time to down yourself again about him. Eddie put you in a good mood and you’d be damned if you were going to let yourself get sad again. So you decided you'd go pick out your outfit for tomorrow. It took you some time trying to figure something out. You wanted to still look nice but still be comfortable. You ended up picking a black fitted knee length dress with black sleeves, you then picks black boots with a slight heel, you had the same jewelry you always had on no need to change it, then you picked your maroon leather jacket to go with your nails, and for your hair you’d just do as you always do hair down while enhancing the natural curl you have already. You wanted to be cozy and could care less what others would say. You know most girls would go in skin tight dresses, face full of makeup, highheels, flashy stuff, and that is okay everyone is allowed their preferences. But those were things you weren't comfortable doing. It was just too much for you. It made you feel smothered or as if someone was trying to hide you away. It’s honestly so complicated. So you stick to what you know makes you happy and comfortable. Even if Steve disagreed with you every time you guys went anywhere remotely formal. He didn’t agree with your standards; he wanted the fashion magazine model look for those things. You had to remind yourself to stop thinking of him as you really rather not get upset again. So you finally decide to go to bed and you fall asleep listening to music as usual.

[wdwmarveldisney]

I found it so relatable!! And since requests are open! Maybe one where the teen wolf pack has a few items of clothing they all share for bonding and scent sharing or whatever but none of them fit reader which really bums reader out and makes them feel left out of the pack/disconnected from the group until maybe reader gets gifted a sweatshirt in their size (by the pack) to finally be able to share with everybody? If it feels too much like Thought of You or doesn't give ya inspo that's just fine! Appreciate you being willing to listen!!

Sweatshirt Apology

The Pack x reader

Summary: You don’t say anything about the pack clothes not fitting and when they find out, all they can do is apologise for not realising sooner.

Masterlist

A/N: When you think you’ve already put it out but turns out you never pressed the button. It’s hasn’t been well proofread but I do love it

GIF isn’t mine

Sitting in the back of Stiles' jeep did nothing to battle the cold of the night. The others stood round outside, all of you waiting for something to happen. They were all wrapped up in their coats, talking quietly as you sat in the back of the jeep, arms wrapped tight around yourself to try stay warmer. The idiots hadn't informed you of the new plan and then had turned up at ten at night to pick you up. So here you were in plaid pj trousers and an oversized top that had one too many holes across the collar and sleeves shorter than your patience. And with them rushing you, you only had enough time to grab shoes and socks to put on when in the jeep, a coat long forgotten.

Completely zoned out, you didn't notice Scott and Kira make their way over to the jeep to get something out. Scott headed round the other side of the jeep as Kira walked straight to your side, sending a sweet smile your way. You noticed immediately that she was wearing a 'pack shirt'. It was the light grey one, some football club or something. You thought Liam had that one right now. Or maybe it was Malia who was supposed to have it.

You were broken out of your thoughts as Kira laughed nervously and Scott was looking at you worried from your other side. You realised you'd missed Kira's question and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, "Sorry, what did you say? I'm so out of it." Kira laughed slightly again, this time with you hesitantly joining in. She leant against the car as she fiddled with her necklace and Scott was searching through his bag. With both doors open, the breeze was making a shiver run through your body, perfectly backing up Kira's words, "You're cold. I think Stiles has that red pack hoodie in the back of the jeep if you want it?"

Another shiver ran through you but it wasn't the cold anymore. Actually the embarrassment and slight shame was heating you up quite a bit. See, the pack clothes you all shared weren't so much shared with you. Well, they were, the pack always handed the clothes to you. They were just never worn by you. You'd tried them all on obviously but that was really the issue. None of them fit. Well, they did fit but they fitted tight and uncomfortable and in no way right. The way they fitted made you want to tear them apart to be able to breathe. So you had gotten into a habit of just using them as a pillow case. That way, they still got your scent and the pack would never find out the shirts and hoodies didn't fit and they wouldn’t feel, I don't know, sorry? Uncomfortable because it?

So you shook your head at Kira, smiling softly at her and a worried Scott. Fucking chemosignals. "I'm all good. I'm not too cold, just tired. And missing my bed," That wasn't a lie, you really did miss your bed. You could hate how the clothes didn't fit while in peace in your bed. Scott clearly wasn't believing a word that left you, standing up slightly as he pointed to the back of the jeep, "I can go get it now, you don't have to worry, no one's using it. You haven't actually had it in ages." He carried on to himself as he went to round the jeep but your eyes went wide as you shot up and all but shouted, "No!"

That got the attention of more than just Scott but the whole pack too. Kira was frowning slightly along with Scott as the others looked over confused. You gave your best attempt of a smile, your eyes focused on Scott as he appeared back in the doorway, "No, I don't need it. I'm fine, seriously." Scott raised his hands in surrender, nodding at your words and you relaxed back against the seat. Great, now you looked like mad to all your friends. You don't hear Kira or Scott say anything else before they head back to Stiles, Derek and Malia, who they were talking to before. Exhausted by not only that interaction and it's, no doubt, consequences but also by the day you had had in general, you did your best to lay comfortably across the back seat of the jeep, trying to get some sleep.

Unbeknownst to you, when Scott and Kira got back to the others with small frown on their faces, Stiles immediately jumped to question them, "What the hell was that about? What did you do?"

"It wasn't me! They're- They're sad. Really sad," Scott tried to explain, glancing back to the jeep as Kira gave a small nod and to the surprise of everyone, so did Derek. He pointed vaguely towards the jeep as he spoke, "They do. Been like that on and off for weeks now." Stiles looked round them all, hoping to get some sort of supernatural answer to it all. When they all stayed silent, he huffed, "Well, do we know what happened recently? I mean, I can't think of-" Stiles cut himself off when he saw a look of realisation dawned on Kira's face, "What? What? What is it?"

"We got the pack clothes about the same time, I think," Scott paused at what Stiles said before he nodded, eyes alight with realisation. The others nodded too and Stiles paused as he thought it through. He was always one of the few you were closer with, a bond formed from all the nerdy shit you two loved and he was one of the very few people in your life who had ended up seeing you cry. It was at a movie but nevertheless. And he had noticed the way you had frowned and closed yourself off one night when even Derek's spare coat didn't fit right during a storm.

He shook his head, hand running through his hair as he couldn't believe how oblivious they all were. The others around him waited patiently for him to expand on the annoyed and pained look he suddenly had. Well, all except Malia. She looked round the others before leaning in a little as she spoke to Stiles, "What's wrong with you now?"

"The clothes don't fit them. They can't fit into them and they don't want to tell us because they think it's embarrassing," he sighed out, nervously fixing his flannel but then his eyes lit up and he smiled round the group, "But I've got an idea."

-

It was a few days and one supernatural incident solved later that found you worriedly and curiously knocking on Scott's front door. He'd texted to say to come ASAP, texting 911 but there was no signs of struggle, no signs of breaking and entering, no signs of any trouble at all. It made your stomach swirl with a slight sickly feeling, bile in your throat until the door opened and there stood Scott and Lydia, completely fine and with wide smiles on their lips. Yeah, you were gonna kill them.

"911?" They could tell by the tone of your voice, the way your lips pursed and the raise of your eyebrow that you were pissed. Scott's face fell as he looked back to Lydia who's bright grin didn't waver. She held her hand out to you, "Just come on." Hesitantly and slightly grumpily, you took her hand and let her lead the way to Scott's living room where the others were. They all looked variations of nervous to happy and you couldn't for the life of you figure out why. But then your eyes caught something in Stiles' hands.

A sweatshirt. A dark, maroon sweatshirt that looked like the one saved in a stupid Pinterest board on your phone that you had mentioned that you'd die to have. It even had that silly little design on the back, the white silhouetting perfectly on the dark red. It looked soft and comfy and more importantly, it looked to be your size.

You stared round, even more confused with ten times the amount of questions as before. So, you simply settled with a small point to the sweatshirt, "What's that?" Stiles rolled his eyes, sarcastic quip on the edge of his tongue but not ever leaving as you glared up at him. What you didn’t account for was Malia, “It’s a sweatshirt,”

“I know that. Why are presenting it to me like it holds some godly power?” Liam snorted, doing his best to not laugh as Mason did the same beside him. Cory looked like he was gonna join in but instead shoved Mason’s shoulder when Derek glared their way. Scott looked nervously round everyone as Stiles rather aggressively nodded your way and suddenly everything was so much more confusing. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

Scott finally spoke up, “It’s the new pack sweatshirt. Lydia saw it and remembered one similar that you said you liked,” He looked round for help when you still looked a little confused and everyone else looked hesitant to bring something else up. Eventually Malia sighed, explaining, “We noticed none of the other fitted you so we got you this one. We want you to have it first.” You nodded, looking around at everyone sheepishly agreeing and though Malia’s bluntness over the whole thing wasn’t exactly unexpected, you were entirely grateful for it.

A small grin made its way to your face, “You guys did that? You didn’t have to.” Everyone looked confused by that, Stiles scoffing at the thought, “Oh yeah, cause that’s completely insane for us to do,” he sighed, dropping the sweatshirt into your lap and shit, it was soft, “Look, we can’t have pack clothes to share if not all the pack fits into them.”

You fiddled with the sleeves, folding the sweatshirt neatly in your lap as you took a deep breath. You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know what to do. You felt like crying but that also felt incredibly embarrassing so best not. Instead you settled on looking round them, “So, um, what was my cut?” You didn’t understand their confused look. Pack clothes costs was split between them all to make sure they could buy more. “You don’t have to pay,” Kira reassured and now it was your turn to look confused, “But you guys got this specifically for me. If anything, I should pay a bigger cut.”

“Oh, shut up,”

“Stiles!” Lydia warned before she sat next to you and wrapped her arm around your shoulders to pull you into her, “This is a gift, you don’t have to pay. We all feel bad that we didn’t even think about sizing so this is our apology.” You didn’t fully get that. You were also at fault, for not telling them but if that’s how they saw it, you weren’t complaining. This was a free sweatshirt you guys were talking about.

Still, you didn’t know what to say. This- no one had done this for you before. To be fair, you’ve never really been in a position like this before. That’s so not the point though, you needed to focus. Wrapping your arm around Lydia to pull her into a proper side hug, you looked round all the others with a grateful smile, “Thank you. You guys didn’t have to do that.” That caused an uproar of disagreements, everyone except Derek piling into hug and you laughed at that. You had some weird fucking friends but you loved them to the ends to the earth and that was never changing.

[plasticross]

[A button arrives via the coordinates. The box it arrives in is simply labelled "dying button" in not very well written English. Open.]

[A black box, with silver tones, and a square, red button. On press, it will not unpress, and appear to not work, slightly fizzling, by design, not that that's obvious. It's entirely monochrome, but looks hypermodern in its design.]

[The machine died, obviously, and there's no reviving it. How does that feel?]

You feel confused, thats for sure. You think that you broke the box and that in itself makes your already fried nerves go crazy. But outwardly you don't have much of a reaction at all. You can't. Your knuckles are bruised and bloodied from your earlier fits with John and your voice was hoarse and weak. You made a promise to yourself you'd stop reacting. Stop feeling. It hurts all too much and ends with nothing happening. At least if you keep it in you can shrink yourself into nothing, like you deserve.

You turn the cube around in your hands. Trying to find anything else the box might do, or find what it was supposed to do. But the box was as confusing as the button, and everything just feels like one big joke. Everyones laughing at you, and even if you can't hear it or see it you can feel it.

It gets thrown haphazardously onto your desk, which has accrued a large amount of useless trinkets and gifts from other light followers, all of them useless and uninteresting to you. Maybe you'd be more intrigued by the box but your brain was filled, it was rotating too much, there was no coming down.

You flip off the box, and the desk itself, and the vanity behind it, the shattered mirror reflecting a million fingers pointing back at you.

[eldrai]

Soft

~500 words. Hotch/Morgan. Just cuddling and a little stimming Read on ao3

Aaron's head resting on his shoulder, eyes closed and his face contentedly relaxed, Derek would think he is asleep if not for his hand. His arm is around Derek's shoulder and he rolls the soft fabric of his shirt between his fingers and thumb, back and forth in a steady rhythm. It's not distracting, per se, only where his shirt is bunched up anyway so Derek can hardly feel the slight pull. Just… there.

"You all right?" he asks, interrupting their stretch of silence. The TV murmurs in the background, illuminating them in its glow.

Aaron hums an assent and continues whatever he's doing, fluid and repetitive. The same kind of motion Derek associates with worry, how he paces and fidgets with his hands and pens, despite how relaxed he seems otherwise.

"What're you doing?" Derek says.

"Sorry," Aaron says, laying his hand over Derek's shoulder, open and still. He turns his head and stares at the television with more interest than he has all night; he's shifting and tense where he was relaxed and steady, curled against Derek's side.

"I don't mind," Derek says, rubbing Aaron's other arm lightly, pulling him back towards him. "Curious, that's all. You look like you're worrying."

"I'm not," Aaron says. "It's nothing."

"Uh-huh," Derek says, "because that's reassuring."

"It is," Aaron insists. "It's just nice. Feels nice. The material, or the texture."

He says texture like it's supposed to mean something and for the life of him, Derek can't figure out what.

"Could get yourself one like it if you like it so much,” he says.

Aaron just stares at him, his eyebrows drawn together. “No,” he says, the obviously silent but certainly there, and tilts his head against Derek's chest again.

“Okay?” Derek says, puzzled. “Did I just offend you or something? I wasn't kidding, you'd look nice."

“No?" Aaron says, about as confused as Derek feels.

“So what’s the problem?” Derek says. If Aaron’s mad at him then nothing else is showing it; he’s still pressed firmly to his side, fingers smoothing down the same patch of fabric.

“There’s not. I said it was nice,” Aaron says. “Just not to wear. It’d be…” He gestures broadly at his own chest, trying to find the words.

“A lot,” Derek says. Thinks he’s got the right idea about what he’s trying to tell him. The feeling of it, nice in small doses, overwhelming if it was constant. The texture. Ah, that makes more sense. "Sensory thing, right?"

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees. A pause. His thumb flicks over his fingernails as he thinks, and his neck is flushed a faint red. It's still new, having words to put to everything, but the shame is years old. They're working on it. “Too much.”

“Ah, I get it,” Derek says, nudging him in the side. “You’re calling me too much, huh?”

“I’m not calling you anything,” Aaron says. “If you’re saying it, though…”

"Rude."

"You said it, not me," Aaron says. His fingers slip down to Derek's buttons and he begins to work them open.

"I thought you liked it," Derek says, amused. "You changing your mind already?"

As Aaron unbuttons his shirt with one hand, his other presses along Derek's thigh; he tilts his head back to trail light kisses up the firm line of his jaw. "No," he murmurs. "Not at all."

[greetingfromthedead]

C48: Nature of Your Being

For more information on the series (tags, CW, etc) click the banner!

Series Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Chapter: 48/84

Words: 2k

No particular warnings for this chapter.

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Memories of Earth return to you as fragments, shards to still be pieced together. Your fingers grab onto your hair, and you want to roll up both from the overwhelming flood of images and all the feelings in your chest. You didn't remember who you were, but that's not what you expected. The coldness in your words, the harsh truth of your being reflected in your face. But the thing that hurts the most is that nothing has changed, you continue to be pushed by those base instincts, the same mentality, even if you want to deny it.

Vash lets you hunch over a bit, and his arms tighten around you. He can tell you are in pain and wants you to know that you're not alone, he is there and will support you. He sees your blank stare from the corner of his vision, your fingers pulling at your hair.

"Iris..." He isn't sure he should say the name he had seen on the screen, so he swallows it back. "It's okay. Take a break. Don't hurt yourself. I can only imagine how hard this must be, but please lean on me."

You grit your teeth and push down all the emotions trying to boil over inside you. Everything you've been looking for is within your reach. You want to know... you have to know more. Your body relaxes and straightens up again. You can pick up the pieces later, right now, there is the burning question of your nature still left unanswered. What are you now? Something happened on this ship after you were recruited, you were still human then, had to be.

Determined to uncover the truth, you pull away from Vash's arms and sit down at the console. Your fingers glide over the keys and buttons with ease, like you do it every day. You look through your files, and deep inside a random looking file system, you find a folder called "Project HUMAN, subject 0325". Vash's hand grips your shoulder as you try to open the item, only to be greeted by a message saying it is locked. You try your handprint again with no success, even something Vash typed in didn't grant access. A heavy weight appears in your stomach, this has to be it. At least some answers are hidden inside, you can feel it.

You stare at the screen. The red message denying you access to your information flashes on the screen. You let out a deep sigh and feel Vash's grip tighten.

"Tell me what I can do for you. How can I help you?" Vash sounds so sad, he is at a loss.

"I don't know it myself," you say quietly, the feelings still being pushed down. "I want answers."

The laboratory doors open, and you turn your head towards them to see Luida and Brad step inside. Brad looks awkward, avoiding looking straight at you, instead staring at the tray with food in his hands. The woman, however, is calm and has a kind smile on her lips.

"Good to see you're awake. And you came to the same conclusion as we did about looking for your records. Did they help? Did you get the answers you desired?" Luida comes close enough to stand beside Vash.

"Some..." you look back at the screen. "But not everything. I seemed to be a regular human when I boarded the ship, but I still don't know what happened after that. I think I found where the information is, but... we can't access it."

"We'll take a look at it, but maybe I can help to fill in the gaps just a little bit for now. I have the results of the labs, and I had a look at them. Do you want to know? We can wait a bit if you'd prefer that." Luida's voice is still calm and kind, with a comforting warmth in it.

You look back at her and don't see Vash's gaze shift onto you with concern as his lips press tightly into a line.

"I want to know! Please!" You lean forward in your seat more towards the older woman.

"Well, I'm not a doctor, I was trained in the basics, but I did find out some things..." She hesitates for a moment, the expression on her face wavering on doubt. "The samples I took, I ran them through some machinery measuring all kinds of markers, and everything seemed normal, well, except for your blood turning into a completely different material that I haven't gotten around to testing yet. But despite the test results coming back normal, I pulled up your genetic makeup and looked through it, and it isn't completely human. I can't say how it was altered, but part of your code resembled that of... Plants."

It feels like a heavy blanket has been thrown over your whole being. Your heart stops. Your lungs stop. Your body stops. The feelings you've repressed start to push the lid off, ready to boil over. You look up at Vash beside you, and your world collapses.

You don't hear anything else, a storm erupts in your head, and your chest feels like it's about to burst. You don't remember what happened next, you heard some crying and some screaming, but you aren't sure if it came from your head or your lungs. Glimpses into a different laboratory flood your mind on top of everything else, tubes and wires running across the room to a tank, a blue light filling the room, casting shadows of the equipment. Nothing substantial gets pieced together just more fragments of your past that don't fit with others to form a timeline.

As you come to your senses again, your eyes are met with sunlight. No longer are you in the laboratory, it's bright and beautiful as it shines through the leaves of a tree. A memory of home. Or Earth? You lay on your back, head tilted to the side. Your fingers touch blades of grass, and you let a few move through between your index finger and your thumb. This doesn't feel like a memory. As you move your head, you realize you are covered by a red coat, and looking a little more to your side, you see Vash leaning his back against the trunk of the tree, your head laying in his lap. You feel a stark sting in your heart as his worried gaze moves upon you.

"How are you feeling?" his voice asks quietly, and his fingers brush over your face. "Luida gave you something that should have helped you feel better."

You take a moment to think. Your head is still cloudy, and the newly returned memories are littered everywhere with no rhyme or reason. The voices that always plague you are wailing in a far corner of your brain, your chest feels heavy, and your stomach turns from a mix of feelings.

"Broken." You answer honestly and sit up holding onto the coat, looking at it for a moment before taking in your surroundings. "Where are we?"

"It's this ship's biodome." Vash says, his voice sounding sad, "Luida conducts her flora research here in hopes that one day the whole planet could be covered in greenery."

Your hands clutch the red fabric tighter as you pay closer attention to the landscape. The beds of flowers, the different shades of blue flow like water through the garden, and from somewhere you hear the quiet song of a stream.

"I think I vaguely remember our ship having one too." Very brief glimpses of a glass dome come to mind.

"Yeah, most likely. All the big Seeds ships had a biodome, to carry life more than just human to a new home." He falls silent for a bit, trying to catch your gaze even though you avoid his. "Iris... can I ask you something?"

An uncomfortable feeling has been nagging at him—a fear, a worry, an ugly thought. Your reaction to hearing Luida's verdict on your test results. He doesn't know what it meant, and he has been worried since the moment he pieced the information together.

"If I know the answer..." you hesitate, still avoiding looking at him.

"What did that look mean? The one you gave me when Luida told you that part of your DNA is that of a Plant." He swallows, fearing the worst—that you reject it, that you are appalled by that fact.

You clutch his coat even tighter, pulling it against your chest like an embrace. The realization you had come to then had shaken you, it has changed everything. The one thing you thought you could trust came crashing down.

"Didn't you realize...?" Your voice is so quiet, he can barely hear it. "The closeness... the sense of belonging... the feeling like we've known each other for long before you found me... They aren't genuine. None of it is real. I thought you loved me... I thought I loved you... But it's not true... none of it."

"What are you saying?" It feels like someone has wrapped their fingers around Vash's throat. He tries reaching for you, but you pull away from his touch, so he lets his hand hit the ground.

"It's nothing more than a Plant thing... like you have with your sisters... You can feel what they feel, they feel what you feel. We've just created a lie for each other. It's nothing but an illusion... We were drawn so strongly towards each other, everything happened so ridiculously fast. How did we not realize it sooner?" You pull your knees against your chest, your hands still gripping his coat.

"What makes you think that...?" He wants to deny all of it, but a small part of him starts to doubt it too.

"It would explain so much... You can't say you haven't noticed it... Sometimes it seems like I can feel what you feel—your pain... your anguish... your ecstasy... your pleasure. Your presence has always calmed me, and you kept the voices at bay for so long... It's all because of the Plant connection..." You still can't bring yourself to look at him. Your body feels cold, like your heart is bleeding out.

"I've heard your voice... Like that of my... our sisters." He sighs, feeling like his head is spinning. "But you're different. I had no idea until now, I didn't sense you, it's not like I constantly heard you, only the time I got hurt. I don't think it was all a lie."

"I want to believe that, but... It's all too much..." You hide your face into the coat. "And you heard me in the recording... the coldness... the indifference... I have pretended to care for so long that I don't know if I would recognize the real feeling. Those were my words, so maybe I was right. I don't know what love feels like, so how would I know I truly love you. Besides... you deserve better, I'm not a good person, I'll only drag you down with my questionable morality. Some things never change."

"Your morality?"

"Everything I do is because I don't want to feel guilty or I want to make up for it. But that's not a good reason, it's selfish and horrible, that's not kindness. No wonder I never fit in, I'm a coward."

"You aren't that person anymore. You aren't the same as back then, you've had so many experiences, both good and bad, that have shaped you. People change, you can't let something you said back on Earth define the person you are now. I've only seen you as kind and good."

"It's not about the me from back then. I still save people selfishly, my instinct to protect is still the same, and I have said cruel things, thought disgusting thoughts just because I wasn't accepted. I've shown my true colors. I've wished them dead, Vash, I've cursed them with thirst and famine, with disease and hardships. I'm nowhere near as kind as you."

"And I'm the reason we're all stuck on this desert planet..."

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