#Multi Track Mix

[navree]

Dick should be Romani. Jason should be Hispanic. Damian is half-Arab. I don't know where we fall on Tim, I guess he can be the only white boy in the Robins. /shrug

Tim's upper crust New Jersey rich class, he is white as hospital wall paint. Dick just is Romani, that's straight up canon at this point, I don't know whether they've made it so both of his parents were Romani but I know that at least John Grayson has been Romani for some time in canon, which would make Dick at least half. Damian's a bit harder to pin down because DC has flip-flopped a lot on exactly what the al Ghul heritage is, Ra's I believe is half Chinese and half Arab (where exactly? who the Hell knows apparently the entire Arab world is a monolith for this people) and Talia has that and I think her mom was Arabic so Damian is at least half-Arab with some Chinese ancestry and is, in fact, brown, just like his mom and his grandpa (those ugly-ass movies that made him painfully white are the Devil's work). Jason at least needs to be ethnically ambiguous enough that he was able to wholeheartedly believe that the top three candidates for his biological mom are a Middle-Eastern woman, an East Asian woman of mixed Chinese and Japanese descent, or a blond haired blue eyed white woman. I tend to go for biracial Hispanic because I myself am the child of one white parent and one Latin parent and I like projecting, but I've seen a lot of good stuff with Jason as East-Asian or Afro-Latino that I really enjoy. And Cass is also biracial, since her mom is, again, of Chinese and Japanese descent and I don't know what the fuck David Cain is, and she should be portrayed as such as well.

And if DC could just remember all of this and stop portraying them as just Bruce clones physically that would be swell.

[davidskeet]

Music video Directed and conceived by India Bradshaw.

Good Girl - India Bradshaw

Produced mixed and mastered by David Skeet for Track Record.

Co production: Paul Aiden and Larissa Meikle

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Andrew Gold - Spooky, Scary Skeletons 1996

Andrew Maurice Gold was an American multi-instrumentalist, singer, songwriter, and record producer who influenced much of the Los Angeles-dominated pop/soft rock sound in the 1970s. Gold performed on scores of records by other artists, especially Linda Ronstadt, and had his own success with the US top 40 hits "Lonely Boy" (1977) and "Thank You for Being a Friend" (1978) (which was later used as the opening theme for The Golden Girls), as well as the UK top five hit "Never Let Her Slip Away" (1978). In the 1980s, he had further international chart success as one half of the new wave duo Wax. During the 1990s, Gold produced, composed, performed on and wrote tracks for films, commercials, and television soundtracks.

"Spooky, Scary Skeletons" is a Halloween song, first released on Gold's 1996 album Halloween Howls: Fun & Scary Music. It was one of nine original songs on the album, released to fill a void of availability of fun and scary Halloween original songs according to Gold on his 1996 liner notes. He produced, mixed, sang and played all the instruments on the track. It prominently features a xylophone to represent the sound of skeletal bones rattling.

In 1998, Disney included the song on their VHS tape Disney's Sing-Along Songs: Happy Haunting: Party at Disneyland! (which was released on DVD as Disney's Sing-Along Songs: Happy Haunting in 2006). They paired the song with the 1929 animated short film The Skeleton Dance by Ub Iwerks. The video has garnered over 31 million views since it was recreated and uploaded by a Youtube user. On October 31, 2013, the Youtube band The Living Tombstone created an electronic dance-like remix of the song with a faster tempo than the original. Their upload of the remix to YouTube has garnered over 102 million views. By 2022, there were over 5 million TikTok videos featuring the song. “Spooky, Scary Skeletons” was adapted into a children's picture book by Random House Children's Books featuring the lyrics to the song on August 27, 2024.

"Spooky, Scary Skeletons" received a total of 90% yes votes!

[not-soap73]

✧･ﾟ: Rex ‘Splode’ Sloan ✧･ﾟ:

nsfw/smut oneshot, gn!reader, sub!rex, mention of multi-creampie

“Come on baby…you got this.”

Rex Sloan, a hot head for a boyfriend. A womanizer at heart. And a male who claimed he was a top while having sex. Yet here he was, complete putty in your hands.

The slapping of your ass against his thighs echoed throughout the room, mixed with the whines and high pitched moans leaving your wrecked boyfriends swollen lips as you road him.

His hands glued to your waist, keeping you in place with a bruising grip, nails digging into the fat of your hips. His pupils were absolutely blown, trying to look up at you, wanting to admire how pretty you looked bouncing up and down on his cock. But it was too difficult, not when you rocked your hips in a certain way, your gummy walls clenching around his sensitive dick, whispering lewd praises in his ear, all to which made his eyes roll back.

He felt like he was going to explode.

You’ve been riding him for god knows how long. Your legs burning up, motions growing sloppy but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You made him cum…how many times now? Who knows. You lost track after three. The thick ring of creamy cum around the base of his cock was enough said.

“I can’t…please…fuck!”

“Yes you can, Rex…”

Moan after groan. Whining after complaining. All to which made you go harder and faster on top of him. Your head tilted forward, letting out soft pants as your eyes trailed over him, taking in the delicious sight. Your teeth marks in his tan skin, one that stood out the most was the one around his perky nipple. Hickeys and faint lines of your nail marks across his chest. Tears were beginning to gloss over his eyes, on the brink of crying from the overstimulation. Oh how you wanted to lick those tears away once they started rolling down.

“Such a pretty boy…”

Such a fucking tease, he thought. His hands gripped at your waist, rutting up as you slowed, making you moan out as the girth of his dick rubbed right against your sweet spot, head snapping back, thighs clenching around his hips. A smirk tugging on his lips at the sight of you.

He so desperately wanted to take control, to flip you over and pound into that gapping hole of yours until your the one cumming all over him, crying from the pleasure and whining out for more. He wanted that satisfaction. He wanted that glory. But he couldn’t find the strength, his body limp against the mattress, pebbled in sweat, lower half sticky with cum. He was letting you fuck him numb. And god did he love it.

“I’m gonna…ngh…”

Hot, thick ropes plunge into you, painting your walls white with his seed. Your hips smacked down, feeling as his cock twitched inside of you, half hard. He let out a strained moan, his hands falling from your waist and onto the bed, trying to steady his breathing from yet another orgasm. He wiped a bead of sweat that rolled from his temple, eyes flickering up to you.

“One more?”

A cheek grin plastering on your face.

You were going to be the death of him one day.

[v6quewrlds]

inspired by this ask <3

read more⠀⁎⠀joe burrow masterlist / series masterlist.

The tell-tale chime of the lock being activated on his girlfriend's car reached Joe's ears before he even realized he'd been waiting for it. He had been home all day, his social battery spent after nearly two weeks away in California for the start of his strict off-season training regimen. As much as he loved falling back into his strict routine, getting stronger, quicker in anticipation of OTAs in May, he had plans. Plans that involved her, their bed, and a whole lotta sweat.

He swallowed the last bit of his protein bar, chewing the final mouthful as he washed his hands under the kitchen sink faucet. The scent of her perfume grew stronger as he listened to her work sneakers squeak against the hardwood floor of the hallways leading from the garage to the kitchen, and his pulse quickened. When she finally appeared in the entryway, looking as radiant as ever in her navy blue scrubs, her hair tied back in a neat ponytail, Joe couldn't hold back the grin that stretched across his face.

"Hi, baby," she chirped, her voice holding relief from a long day's work. But Joe didn't let her greeting fully land before he pounced. Before she could even set her bag down, Joe was upon her, his arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her with that familiar ease of his. He spun her around, her laughter filling the space between them as she squealed.

"What are you doing?" she giggled as Joe held her tightly, her arms moving to wrap around his shoulders with a tense sense of surprise. Her cheek pressed to his, she felt his warm breath against her ear as he whispered, "I missed you." He pulled back to find her gaze, his bottom lip jutting out slightly in a playful pout that made her heart flutter.

She delicately steadied his chin between her fingertips before kissing him deeply, the sweetness of her lips contrasting with the tartness of the apple she'd eaten on her way home. His arms tightened around her, and she felt the firmness of his muscles under her palms.

"Put me down, you caveman," she said with a playful scold, her voice muffled by his neck.

Joe shook his head, leaning in for another kiss. "Fine," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. With a swift pivot, he set her down, cupping her face in both of his hands and deepening the kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she gave into the passion, her body melting into his as his tongue danced with hers. Then he moved swiftly in her false sense of security, bending at the knees and hoisting her back over his shoulder.

"I wanted to tell you about my day," she protested between laughs as Joe began to march towards their bedroom.

The sound of his heavy footsteps grew muffled as he carried her down the hallway, her legs kicking in the air. He steadied a hand on her ass, his thumb rubbing a circle into the covered flesh. For a moment, her legs stopped kicking as she anticipated his next move. His hand lifted before coming down with a firm smack that echoed in the quiet of their house. She squealed with a mix of surprise and pleasure, the sting sending a jolt through her body. Her right hand swatted at his back, but it was met with another smack, this time on the opposite cheek.

"I can't believe you," she gasped out between giggles. "What is your plan?"

Joe chuckled, his hand reaching back to smack her ass again. "You can talk. Right now, I just need to take care of some things." She fell back onto the bed, bouncing slightly on the mattress, as Joe tossed her with ease. The bedroom door slammed shut, leaving her with no doubt that he was now firmly in charge.

She watched him stalk over to her, his knee pressing into the mattress as she sat up on her elbows. "I can talk?" she questioned, arching an eyebrow as she tracked his movements, yelping out as he grasped her ankle and yanked her down to him.

"I can multi-task," Joe shrugged, his eyes gleaming with lust as they traveled down her body. He reached down and began to peel her scrub top over her head, revealing a plain black sports bra. "Go on, tell me about your day," he urged, his voice thick with desire.

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips as she began to recount her day. As she talked, Joe's hands roamed over her body, his fingertips tracing the curves of her hips and the dip of her waist. His warm breath tickled her skin, nipping and kissing a path down her neck to the swell of her breasts. His touch was a delicious distraction, and she felt her thoughts growing hazy as he removed her bra and cupped her breasts, teasing the sensitive peaks with his thumbs.

"Wait, so Luca's back from leave?" he asked absentmindedly, his teeth pulling at the waistband of her panties. She nodded, watching Joe's eyes darken with need as he took in the sight of her bare skin. His touch grew more urgent, his fingers slipping under the fabric to trace the dampness gathering between her legs before sliding them completely down her legs.

"He had like 15 days of PTO built up for a Europe trip. He went backpacking or some shit. Came back with pic—oh god," she gasped as Joe pressed the full width of his tongue against her clit, cutting off her words. She squirmed under his touch, trying to maintain her composure and continue the story, but her voice kept breaking into moans and breathless whispers.

Joe didn't seem to care about the story anymore. His eyes were fixed on her face, watching the way her chest heaved and her mouth fell open. He slid two fingers inside her, his thumb circling her clit with just enough pressure to keep her on edge. He groaned against her, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through her body.

"Taste so good," Joe murmured against her, his words muffled by her folds.

She bit her lower lip, trying to keep her voice steady. "And, uh, yeah, he brought back some amazing pictures. Fuck, Joe, your tongue," she breathed out, her eyes fluttering shut. "Keep doing that."

He chuckled, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. "Let me focus on this, keep talking, baby." He pushed her thighs apart wider, sucking her clit into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. "Jesus," she whispered, her voice strained as her hands found his hair, tangling in the blonde strands. Her hips began to rock against his mouth, her story of Luca and his vacation forgotten in the face of the pleasure Joe was giving her.

"Keep talking, baby," he repeated, the vibrations of the syllables leaving his lips and traveling through her body. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her words.

"And, uh, Medina s—said that, uh, the new laser treatment we've been using is showing promising results in some of—oh, some of the follow-ups he's had," she managed, her voice a little shakier than before. Joe's eyes met hers, a smirk playing on his lips as his fingers began to move in and out of her in a rhythm that matched her racing pulse.

"Tell me more," he murmured, his eyes closing as he relished in the taste of her arousal. Her thoughts swam in a sea of sensation, making it difficult for her to form coherent sentences. "C'mon, sweetheart, keep going," he coaxed, pulling back to watch the way her pussy clenched around his fingers. He swore under his breath as she tightened around him, his own cock straining against his shorts.

Her eyes focused on the ceiling, she took a deep breath and tried to remember her day. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate with Joe's mouth and hands working their magic on her body. "So, we had this one patient with—oh fuck," she moaned as his fingers curled inside her, hitting that perfect spot. "With a really stubborn case of psoriasis. We've been trying different… uh, different…" She trailed off, her eyes rolling back as the waves of pleasure grew stronger. "Different… oh my god… Joe."

He hummed against her, the vibration sending a new wave of pleasure through her body. "Fuck, you're soaked," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean as he met her eyes. "Pussy's fuckin' creamin' for me."

She felt her cheeks heat at his crude words, but she couldn't deny the truth in them. She was so wet that Joe could hear the slickness of his digits sliding in and out of her as she tried to maintain her train of thought. Her breath came in short gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he worked her body like a finely tuned instrument.

"Yeah," she managed to gasp out, her eyes snapping back to his, the heat in his gaze setting her alight. "The treatment, um, the treatment is…" But she couldn't finish her sentence. His mouth was back on her, his tongue swirling and licking, his fingers working in tandem to drive her closer and closer to the edge. The tension in her body grew tauter with every stroke, her breath hitching in her throat.

"Keep talkin', I'm listenin'. Go on, baby," Joe said, his voice a low, sultry tone. His eyes remained fixed on her, watching the way her face contorted with every touch, every lick, every thrust of his fingers. Her eyes rolled back, and she tried to remember her train of thought. "It's okay if you can't," he murmured, his mouth moving to her inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses. "I'm just tryna hear your voice."

She took a deep breath and tried again. "The patient, the psoriasis patient, we're hoping it'll clear up with the new laser therapy," she gasped out, her voice trembling as Joe removed his fingers and dipped his head to devour her again. "But we probably need more… more time. More… fuck… more sessions to be sure."

Joe hummed, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her unravel before him. He knew she was close, her thighs quivering around his head, her nails digging into the sheets. "Mmhmm," he murmured, his mouth lapping at her slit, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin. "But it's looking good?"

"It's good. So fucking good," she managed to murmur, her body writhing under Joe's skilled mouth. She could feel the orgasm building within her, a coil of heat and need tightening in her lower belly. Her words were becoming more disjointed. "I'm so—" a moan, "happy that—" a curse, "it might—" a whine, "Joey, I'm gonna come."

Joe's response was a murmur of approval against her pussy, his tongue working in earnest as he felt the first tremors of her approaching climax. Her words dissolved into incoherent sounds as she gave into the sensations, her body arching off the bed as Joe's mouth consumed her. She felt like she was floating; her senses heightened and overwhelmed with pleasure. The world outside their bedroom ceased to exist; the only thing that mattered was the feeling of Joe's mouth and the way his tongue danced over the sensitive muscle.

Her thighs clamped around his head as the orgasm crashed over her, the intensity of it making her toes curl and her back bow off the bed. She threw her head back, her dark hair fanning out over the pillow as she moaned his name, the sound echoing off the walls. Joe didn't stop, his tongue swirling around her clit as her body spasmed and contracted, helping her through the waves of pleasure.

When the last tremor had passed, her body went slack, her breaths coming in deep, shuddering gasps. She looked down at Joe, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright with excitement, his mouth glistening with her arousal. He gave her clit one last, gentle kiss before moving up her body, breathing her in before kissing her deeply. She tasted herself on him, laughed against his mouth, and whispered, "You're so horny."

Joe grinned, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. "It's your fault," he murmured, his hand sliding down to palm his own hardness through his shorts. "I'm getting another one out of you before we even think about dinner."

[fandomnerd9602]

Late Evening

Wolf!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

The air was calm as night settled over your apartment. The Sanctuary was doing well. Your relationship with your best friend and wolf hybrid Natasha Romanoff was going strong. The twin deer-human hybrids you and Natasha adopted, Wanda and Pietro, had been doing so well.

Honestly you couldn’t ask for a better life.

With help from your pal Tony Stark, the Westview Animal Hybrid Sanctuary was thriving, donations were coming in and slowly but surely society was beginning to accept hybrids.

It was everything you and Natasha had hoped for. It was the life you always wanted.

One night you had finished cleaning of the dishes, an old favorite song of yours playing on the radio. It was a good peaceful evening.

Natasha sauntered into the kitchen. Her hair tied into a loose bun. She was wearing a silk bathrobe and a smile was gracing her lips.

“The kids are asleep my hunter” she purred as she wrapped her arms around your waist, letting her red hair drape over your chest.

“Good” you kissed her forehead as you gently swayed with her to the beat of the song.

Natasha’s wolf tail swished back and forth happily. “This is perfect” she softy moaned in your ear.

“Thank you for this life, my wolf”

Then suddenly she bit your shoulder. It wasn’t anything too hard, just a little light one. But it was enough to make you jump a little.

“Natasha!”

Your wolf mate giggled, “sorry I just love you so much!”

You tried to caress her cheek but she playfully bit your hand.

“You are insatiable sometimes” you chuckled, slowly pushing yourself away from her.

Her tail began to sway seductively. Her eyes darkened a little. Natasha’s voice became a little huskier, “can you blame me? When I have a mate as perfect as you, it hard for me to not want you every moment of every day, my hunter”

You knew where this was going. You quickly ran into your living room. Natasha chased you happily.

You ran around the couch, Natasha was close behind you. She wanted you. But she also loved to have a bit of hunt before getting her prey.

“Natasha” you tried to calm her down. Seductive whines and growls were leaving her lips, that red haired wolf was lower in your defenses bit by bit.

“Down girl!” You tried to say.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Her tail swaying with temptation, driven by a mix of animalistic lust and love.

“Down, my hunter?” She purred, “I dare you to try and keep me down”

You couldn’t help but swallow a little. This mate of yours knew she had you now.

“Oh you-“ you couldn’t even finish that as she tackles you to the couch.

Moans and pants were already leaving her lips as she clawed at your outfit. It wasn’t fair, all she had was that bathrobe on.

“Natasha, baby?” You tried to say in between her onslaught of kisses.

“Hmm?”

“The kids?”

“We’ll be quiet, my hunter”

Well…the two of you were quieter.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @redhoodte @dudesweet17 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @iiconicsfan25 @texaswolf23 @russianredassassin @revanshand @abimess @ma1egamer @marveldcfandom @julieromanoff

[sasheemo]

Friday Thoughts

Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Sunday morning’s spicy haze gives way to a heartfelt conversation about your future together. But with Agatha’s signature flair, it’s anything but ordinary.

Chapter Tags: Jealous Reader, Domestic Bliss, Nicky is Basically a Tiny Wingman, Happy Ending, Fluff Ending, Slow(ish) Burn Payoff, Smut

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: Chapter 4 dropped on Christmas Eve, and now Chapter 5 is here New Year's Eve—what can I say, I aim for festive timing! 😬

I know I’m not the fastest writer, and I’m sooo sorry about that, but this final chapter had me second-guessing everything right up until the very end.

It was supposed to be short and sweet. No smut. No Rio cameos. Just a heartfelt conversation to wrap everything up neatly. But… well, apparently I can’t resist a little extra spice and some fluff. So instead of “short and sweet,” you’re getting “long and indulgent.” You’re welcome.

Oh, and fair warning—this chapter has a lot of dialogue. But I promise I did my best to make it… engaging wink wink 😏

This is my first-ever completed multi-chapter fic, and honestly? I’m a mix of proud and devastated to be saying goodbye to it. These two have been living rent-free in my head for a while now, and I really hope this ending does them justice.

Thank you to everyone who’s been along for this wild ride—it’s been a joy writing this story, and your support has meant everything. As always, I can’t wait to hear what you think! Here’s to the happy ending these two (and you, let’s be real) deserve. Enjoy and Happy New Year! 💜🥳

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

All you can hear is the relentless pounding of your own heartbeat, each thud drowning out your thoughts as you search for the words.

Agatha’s watching you, her gaze sharp but not unkind. Her hand rests lightly on your arm—a simple, grounding touch—but it might as well be a flame branding your skin, its warmth sending waves of tension rippling through you.

The weight of her presence, the intensity of her eyes, the way her touch seems to anchor you in place, it all builds to a point where you feel like you might snap. You take a step back, breaking the connection, though the movement is hesitant, almost reluctant.

Agatha lets her hand fall without protest, her brow lifting slightly in curiosity as she watches you retreat.

Your feet begin to move instinctively, pacing back and forth across the room as you try to untangle the storm of thoughts in your head. The soft sounds of your bare feet against the hardwood floor create a rhythm, something tangible to focus on as you walk a short line, turn, and walk it again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Agatha shifting her stance. She takes a couple of steps back and leans casually against the dresser, crossing her arms over her chest with an ease that contrasts maddeningly with your spiraling. 

Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders, the soft light catching on its dark waves. Her expression is calm, almost amused, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips as she tracks your movements.

After a couple of minutes of incessant pacing, you don’t even need to look at her to know she’s probably fighting the urge to laugh. She sighs, low and exasperated, though there’s no real annoyance in it.

“Come here, hon.” her voice cuts through the fog in your mind like a blade, steady and commanding. 

You freeze mid-step, glancing toward her, your pulse quickening at the simple authority in her tone.

Slowly, you approach, hesitant but unable to resist the pull of her presence. You stop just short of closing the distance, leaving a fragile sliver of space between you—a barrier you cling to, as much for your own composure as for a chance to steady the storm inside. 

Every part of you aches to close the gap, but you hold back, convincing yourself that this small distance is the only way to face her with a clear mind.

Agatha doesn’t push, doesn’t reach for you. Instead, she stays where she is, leaning against the dresser, her eyes fixed on yours with piercing intensity. Her stillness feels intentional, as though she’s giving you space to breathe, to think, while still holding you firmly in her orbit.

“Well?” she prompts, her voice a velvety blend of calm and command. “Whatever’s got you pacing like a caged animal, it’s time to spit it out.”

You let out a sharp breath, your shoulders slumping slightly as the tension inside you finally breaks.

“Doesn’t this worry you?” you ask, your voice tight with nervous energy.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, hon.” she replies smoothly, her tone effortlessly confident. “What part of this is supposed to worry me?”

You gesture vaguely with your hands, the words tumbling out clumsily as you try to give shape to your thoughts. “I mean… all of it? Us. Nicholas. What if—what if this gets messy?”

Her smirk deepens, and she tilts her head, studying you with that maddening, amused expression, like she’s already figured you out and is just waiting for you to catch up.

“Messy?” she repeats, the word rolling off her tongue with a teasing lilt. “Sweetheart, the only thing messy about this is how you’re tying yourself into knots over it.”

“I’m serious, Agatha.” you scoff defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So am I, hon.” her voice sharpens slightly, firm but not harsh. “Look, I’m not saying there won’t be challenges. But whatever they are, they’re not anything two grown women can’t handle.”

“So… what exactly is it that’s worrying you?” she presses, her tone softening just a fraction.

Her question hangs in the air, and the weight of her gaze settles over you like a warm, steady pressure. You glance away, trying to collect yourself, before meeting her eyes again.

“It’s everything.” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I just… I don’t know how this works. How we work.”

Agatha doesn’t respond. She just watches you, but there’s no rush in her gaze, no impatience—just a quiet expectation, as if she knows the words are there and trusts you to find them on your own.

Her unexpected steadiness makes something inside you loosen. For some reason, you thought Agatha might struggle with conversations like this—emotional topics, deep and vulnerable. It never seemed like her thing, at least in your mind.

But now, seeing her so composed, so unshaken by the storm you’ve brought to her, you realize that maybe she was expecting this, maybe she’s known this conversation was inevitable long before you did.

And somehow, her calm confidence makes it easier to breathe.

“I just…” you trail off, running a hand through your hair. “I need to know. When did this start? When did you start… feeling like this about me?”

Her brows lift slightly, and for a moment, genuine surprise flickers across her face. It vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“That’s a tough one to answer.” she begins, her voice carrying a thoughtful edge. “It wasn’t some grand epiphany. More like… a collection of little moments, each one adding up until I couldn’t ignore them anymore.” 

There’s a faint trace of annoyance in her tone, not aimed at you but at the sheer audacity of the realization itself. Like the idea that you’ve been occupying so much space in her mind is a personal affront she’s still coming to terms with—and even now, it seems to bruise her pride just a little.

“Like what?” you press with quiet insistence, a thread of determination woven through the words.

Agatha tilts her head, her smirk softening as her gaze narrows, calculating. For a moment, she looks almost reluctant to speak, as if she’s weighing how much to tell you. 

“You remember that afternoon a couple of months ago,” she starts, her tone deceptively casual. “when you showed up drenched from head to toe? It was pouring outside, and you still walked in here grinning like an idiot, dripping all over my floors.”

You blink, caught off guard by the memory. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I thought to myself,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting as if replaying the scene, “how does someone look that damn happy while freezing and soaking wet? And why the hell can’t I stop staring at her?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, your cheeks heating as your gaze darts away from hers. Instinctively, you feel the urge to take a step back, a reflexive retreat from the intensity of the moment. 

But this time, Agatha reaches out, moving as though she’s read your mind. 

She leans forward slightly, her hand grazing your wrist as her fingers curl lightly around it, tugging with just enough firmness to pull you a fraction closer to her.

“And then…” she continues, her voice gaining that teasing edge that always leaves you off-balance, “You’d leave those little treats from the café on the kitchen table. Like some saintly delivery girl, making sure Nicholas had something sweet after school and I had something waiting for me after work. You didn’t think I noticed, did you?”

“I just thought—” you begin, stammering slightly, but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

“You thought I was too busy to notice, or that I didn’t care.” she says, her tone mockingly serious now, though her smirk never wavers.

Her fingers trail from your wrist to your hip as she speaks, and it takes a moment for you to realize you’ve unconsciously taken a step closer, the space between you narrowing with each passing second.

“And you,” she continues, her voice dipping lower, “always smelled like coffee after your morning shifts. That scent… it stuck with me. Sometimes I’d walk into the kitchen at night, hours after you left, and I could still smell it. God, I started to notice it everywhere. It drove me insane.”

Your breath catches at her words, and again as her other hand joins the first, both settling firmly on your hips. With a final, deliberate tug, she guides you into the space between her legs, her warmth radiating against you, drawing you into her orbit completely.

“And then there was last Friday night.” she breathes, her voice steeped in an intimacy that makes every word feel like a secret. “I came home and found you on the couch with Nicky curled up next to you. I stood there just staring at you both. I couldn’t stop thinking about how… safe he looked with you. How much he trusts you. How cute the two of you looked together like that.”

The weight of her words leaves you momentarily stunned, but before you can process them fully, a darker thought claws its way to the forefront of your mind.

“And the other Fridays?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

Her brow arches, and the sharpness in her expression returns, a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes. “What about them?”

“You know what I mean.” you say, crossing your arms tightly, trying to shield yourself from the sudden vulnerability you feel. “All those nights you came home late, looking… like that.”

Agatha sighs, the sound low and laced with mock boredom, yet the gentle squeeze of her hands on your hips betrays her true feelings—anything but indifferent. It’s not real annoyance, more a carefully crafted exasperation tinged with amusement, as if, deep down, she’s savoring how your relentless, probing questions are playing perfectly into her hands.

“Most of them were business dinners.” she says, her voice firm and matter-of-fact. “Clients, potential partners. Necessary evils, nothing exciting.”

“But not all of them.” you press, your voice sharper now, frustration lacing your words.

“No.” she remarks dryly. “Not all of them.”

“How many were dates?” you demand, the jealousy you’ve been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface hot and fast despite your best efforts to tamp it down.

“Does it matter?” she counters smoothly, her tone cool but not dismissive.

“It does to me.” you snap before you can stop yourself.

“Fine, a few. But none of them were serious, hon.” she says, and you could swear her voice is playful, almost teasing, as if she can sense the jealousy burning you alive and is enjoying every second of it.

“Define ‘serious.’” you scoff, your hands coming up to push lightly against her shoulders, but she doesn’t budge an inch.

“One dinner.” she states with a shrug, her tone infuriatingly calm and offhand. “Maybe some fun at their place afterwards, but that’s it. It was never anything more.”

Her honesty stings, even if it’s what you wanted, what you asked for. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the jealousy from overtaking you.

“And last Friday night?” you press, your voice barely above a whisper. The words feel heavy as they leave your lips, your pulse quickening with a mix of apprehension and the need to know. “What happened before you came home and found me and Nicky on the couch?”

Her grin turns inexplicably wicked as her hands slide lower to firmly your ass. With a deliberate tug, she pulls you flush against her, your hips colliding in a way that sends heat racing up your spine.

“Last Friday night was a date, sweetheart.” she begins, her tone maddeningly casual, like she’s recounting a a dull anecdote rather than making your blood boil. “She tried to kiss me outside the restaurant and invited me to her place.”

She pauses just long enough for the words to sink in, her eyes glinting with amusement as she gauges your reaction.

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind, and your chest tightens, jealousy fizzling hot and insistent in your stomach. Her nonchalance feels like a knife twisting, and you’re sure she can sense it, her smirk widening ever so slightly as her eyes lock onto yours.

You force yourself to hold her gaze, but the casual edge of her tone, the way she seems so unaffected, is almost too much to bear. A hundred thoughts race through your mind, each one more unbearable than the last. You’re not sure whether to scoff, snap, or step away, but before you can decide, Agatha’s voice cuts through the tension again.

“But…”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, and her expression shifts, the confidence that usually cloaks her like armor faltering ever so slightly. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel the weight of whatever she’s about to say. 

She exhales through her nose, the hesitation palpable as though she’s debating whether to say the words out loud. 

When she finally does, her voice is lower, dipping into a gentleness that catches you completely off guard, each word laced with a quiet vulnerability that makes your heart stutter. 

“When I politely declined her offer… I called her by your name.”

You blink. Once. Twice. your brain firing on all cylinders yet somehow managing to stall completely. Surely, you must have misheard her.

And then she winks. And it’s game over.

Your eyes widen to comical proportions, your jaw drops like it’s auditioning for a slapstick comedy, and you’re pretty sure your entire face is now brighter than a chili pepper under a spotlight. 

At your reaction, Agatha’s smirk blossoms into its full, mischievous glory, positively dripping with wicked delight—a clear indicator that she’s savoring every second of your mental implosion.

“You what?!” you practically squawk, the words bursting out louder and more incredulous than you thought humanly possible.

Agatha chuckles, low and rich, the sound rolling over you like a warm wave. The sheer satisfaction glinting in her eyes is almost maddening, and her hands, still resting on your ass, shift slightly—her fingers brushing against the loose fabric of your shorts in a way that feels far too casual given the bombshell she just dropped.

“No, no, wait.” you stammer, still trying to process. “You’re telling me you, Agatha Harkness—confident, poised, never-misses-a-beat Agatha Harkness—actually called someone by the wrong name? My name? On a date? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly strike me as the type to… you know… trip over your own rizz like that.”

She tilts her head, one brow arching in mock warning as her eyes lock onto yours, a look that clearly says, Careful, hon, don’t push your luck. It’s playful, yes, but there’s just enough edge in her gaze to make your breath hitch, like she’s daring you to test her patience. 

“Trust me, sweetheart, no one was more surprised than me.” she admits with dry amusement as the faintest shrug rolls off her shoulders.

But there’s a betraying flicker in her eyes, a glimmer of self-deprecation, and you can tell she’s trying very hard to hold back laughter herself at this point.

“So, you’re standing there, at the end of your very hot date or whatever, and just—what? Randomly blurt out my name?” you ask, the teasing edge in your voice growing sharper as you fight the urge to giggle.

“It wasn’t quite like that.” she corrects, “We were outside the restaurant, and she leaned in—clearly angling for a kiss. I… stopped her before it went that far.” she continues as her smirk deepens. “But then she still invited me back to her place, and… well, that’s when it happened. Your name name came out instead of whatever hers was. Clear as day.”

The image plays out in your head: Agatha standing there with some impossibly glamorous woman, utterly composed until… she isn’t. The thought sends a strange mix of emotions swirling through you—jealousy, disbelief, and something dangerously close to triumph.

“Why didn’t you…?” you hesitate, your voice faltering as the question comes out before you can stop yourself. “Why didn’t you just go home with her?”

“It wouldn’t have made much sense, would it?” she replies with a shrug, as if you’ve just asked the most obvious question in the world.

“Why not?” you push, your heart pounding now.

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered. The whole date was a lousy attempt to stop thinking about the fact that I wanted my hot, younger babysitter.”

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face at her words. They land between you, heavy and electric, making it impossible to look away.

“And I knew,” she continues, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial, “that if I’d gone home with her, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I’d have spent the whole night imagining it was you. Hell, I spent the entire dinner doing that.”

The honesty in her words steals the breath from your lungs, leaving you momentarily stunned. Her confession is playful and teasing, but it’s also raw, stripped of any pretense, leaving no room for doubt.

“You’ve been in my head, sweetheart, for longer than you realize. Last Friday night just made it impossible to keep pretending otherwise.”, her words come out almost in a sigh, laced with exasperation, like this whole ordeal has been just as maddening for her as it has been for you.

Your thoughts are spinning, a chaotic swirl of emotions you can’t quite untangle, but the way she’s looking at you—steady, unshaken, and utterly sure—anchors you in place. Her gaze is magnetic, pulling you toward a singular truth that feels impossible to ignore, and there’s only one thing your mind is screaming at you to do.

Your hands fly to her neck, fingers tangling in the soft waves of her hair as your lips crash into hers. The kiss is anything but gentle—urgent, unrestrained, a collision of pent-up tension, jealousy and raw need. 

Agatha stiffens for a second, caught off guard, but the hesitation melts as quickly as it came.

She responds with equal fervor, her lips moving against yours with a commanding urgency that steals the breath from your lungs. When she finally breaks away, it’s not in retreat but with a low, surprised laugh that vibrates against your lips.

“Well.” she drawls, her voice roughened with amusement and provocation, her lips still brushing yours, “If jealousy makes you this needy, I might just make it a habit to mention my Friday nights more often.”

Your face burns as you glare at her, though the heat in your chest only intensifies. 

“Don’t even try it.” you snap, tugging slightly at her bottom lip with your teeth as your voice drops to a playful warning. “I mean it, Agatha.”

Agatha chuckles, the sound rumbling through her chest as one of her hands drifts from your hips to the front of your shorts, her fingers toying lazily with the waistband. 

The casual, almost absent motion ignites a wildfire beneath your skin, leaving every nerve alight and your body coiled tight with anticipation.

She slips one thigh between yours, nudging gently to widen your stance, and your hands instinctively clutch her shoulders for balance. Before you can steady yourself, her fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing the edge of your panties.

Her smirk deepens, her eyes gleaming with sinful intent that sends a tremor through your knees, as if she’s already savoring the exact moment she’ll make you fall apart. 

“But baby…” she murmurs, leaning in until her lips brush the shell of your ear, her voice dropping into something dark and honey-sweet. “Needy looks sooo good on you”

Her voice alone sends a pulse straight to your core, and when her fingers dip lower, slipping past the edge of your panties to press against your soaked folds, the moan that rips from your throat is nothing short of pornographic.

You’re drenched, embarrassingly so, and the slick sound of her fingers gliding through your arousal only makes it worse. 

She doesn’t even try to conceal her delight, letting out a throaty, satisfied hum that vibrates against your skin. It’s a sound of pure indulgence, as though she’s reveling in the way your body responds so eagerly, so quickly, to her words, to her touches.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp, your voice trembling with a mix of need and protest as your hips buck involuntarily against her hand. “We’re not… we’re not done talking.”

Her lips curl into a grin as she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a challenge as her fingers slide deeper, spreading your wetness with excruciatingly languid strokes.

“Oh, I know.” she purrs, her tone dripping with faux innocence as her fingers tease your entrance. “Go on, baby. Keep talking.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to—”

The sentence dies in your throat, replaced by a strangled moan as two fingers slide into you effortlessly. The sound of your wetness fills the room, obscene and loud, and you can’t stop the strangled cry that escapes when she curls her fingers just right.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” she asks smoothly, her smirk widening as her thumb brushes a lazy, maddeningly light circle over your clit. “I’ve let you ask all your questions, answered them, and I’m still here for the rest. But…”. She punctuates her next words with a deep thrust, her palm grinding against your clit in a way that makes your breath hitch. “It’s time you start giving me something back, don’t you think?”

“Oh my God—fuck!” you groan, your head dropping to her shoulder as your hips grind against her hand, chasing the pleasure she’s so expertly coaxing from you. 

Your legs tremble, barely holding you up, and the wet, filthy sound of her fingers moving inside you makes your face burn with humiliation and need.

“That’s it.” she hums, her voice low and approving as her free hand moves to tangle in your hair, tilting your head so her lips graze your ear. “Be a good girl and try for me, mmh?”

“Agatha, please.” you whimper, your nails digging into her shoulders as your walls clench around her fingers. “I can’t—I can’t focus when you’re—mmh—when you’re doing that.”

“Sure, you can. And you will.” she murmurs, her thumb pressing harder against your clit in rhythm with her thrusts. “You’ll think, talk, listen, and take everything I’m giving you, just like the clever girl I know you are.”

Her praise is a double-edged sword, both a balm and a brand, sending warmth flooding through you while also igniting a stubborn need to meet her challenge. Gritting your teeth, you force your voice to form a single, coherent thought.

“N-nicholas.” you stammer, your voice barely intelligible as pleasure and worry collide in your chest. “What about—oh, fuck—what about Nicholas? What if— what if this messes everything up for him?”

Agatha’s smirk softens just slightly, though her fingers don’t falter, their pace steady and relentless.

“Nicholas is smarter than most adults, baby.” she murmurs, her voice impossibly calm and confident even as you whimper against her shoulder. “He’s practically a human lie detector. Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already picked up on something.”

“Besides, he adores you.” she continues casually, as if you aren’t completely falling apart in her arms. “As long as we handle this carefully—and don’t, you know, start fucking in the living room while he’s watching cartoons—he’ll be fine.”

You let out a strangled laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a moan as her fingers curl deeper, hitting a spot that makes your entire body tense. 

“But—but what if he—oh my God—doesn’t take it well?”

“Sweetheart.” she murmurs, her free hand tilting your chin up to meet her gaze, her eyes impossibly tender yet razor-sharp. “Stop overthinking. We’ll handle it. Together.”

You nod weakly, unable to form a rational response as she quickens her pace, driving you closer to the edge with every thrust. 

But before you can let yourself fall completely into the haze of pleasure, another thought claws its way to the surface.

“And Rio?” you choke out, though your voice is barely a whisper now, trembling with the effort of holding on. “What happens when she—fuck—when she finds out?”

“Rio doesn’t have a say in my life anymore.” she drawls, her smirk widening into something downright predatory as her fingers thrust deeper, harder, drawing a strangled cry from your throat. “Sure, we keep things civil for Nicholas’s sake, but beyond that? She can think whatever she wants. It won’t change a damn thing.”

“But—but what if—mmh yes—what if she makes it hard for us?”

“What’s she gonna do, huh?” Agatha arches a brow, her free hand gripping your waist to steady you as your legs start to tremble. “Get all huffy and judgmental? Let her.”

Her confidence ripples through you, grounding and infuriating all at once, even as her pace grows brutal. Your walls clench tighter around her, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable height. Yet one last question remains lodged in the back of your throat. 

When it finally tumbles out, your voice cracks under the weight of it. “And what if you… what if you get tired of me?”

Agatha freezes for a heartbeat, her gaze pinning yours in place with a fierce, almost dangerous intensity that takes your breath away.

“I won’t.” she snaps, her tone so firm, so unshakable, it’s as if the very idea is offensive.

Her gaze drops pointedly to where her fingers disappear into you, sliding out glistening before thrusting back in with a wet, filthy sound, over and over again.

“If you could see yourself right now—falling apart on my fingers, so perfect, so mine—you’d know just how impossible that question is.”

Her words land like a thunderclap and your body shudders violently, your legs trembling so hard you’re certain you’d collapse if it weren’t for the firm, possessive grip she keeps on your waist.

And then, as if to punish you for your suggestion, or perhaps to drive her point home with devastating clarity, she slides a third finger into you without warning. The stretch is intense, toeing the line between pleasure and overwhelming, and you let out a strangled cry that tears through the room.

Her thumb presses harder, faster, against your clit as her fingers work you open. It’s deliberate, merciless, as though she’s staking her claim in every possible way, daring you to question her devotion again.

“That’s it, baby.” she hums, her voice dark and velvety, her satisfaction palpable in the way her lips curl into a smirk against your temple. “Taking me so well… so fucking perfect.”

Her words only add fuel to the fire blazing inside you, and you’re helpless to stop the wrecked, broken moans spilling from your lips as her pace quickens. 

Your body arches involuntarily, seeking more, needing more, as the pressure builds impossibly higher, threatening to snap with every flick of her thumb and thrust of her fingers.

You silently call on every divine entity, ancient force, or cosmic fluke you can think of, just to ensure she’ll grant the desperate plea teetering on the edge of your lips.

“Please!” the word escapes you as a desperate sob, raw and aching as your hands clutch her shoulders. “Please, Agatha—fuck, I need to—”

“Come for me, baby.” her command cuts you off, slicing through the haze like a blade and shattering you completely. 

Your body seizes, the coil in your belly snapping violently as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, relentless and all-consuming. 

Wetness gushes from you, coating her hand and soaking the fabric of your shorts as she continues to work you through it, her fingers dragging unrelentingly along your walls, sending shivers through every nerve.

“Fuck, look at you.” she breathes, her tone edged with awe and sinful pride as your walls spasm around her fingers, gripping her so tightly it’s a wonder she can still move. “So messy for me.”

The intensity is almost unbearable, your cries escalating into a scream that rips from your throat as the pleasure crests in waves, each more powerful than the last. 

Agatha doesn’t let up, her movements steady and calculated, prolonging your pleasure until the last waves finally begin to ebb. 

Her hand on your waist tightens, grounding you as her lips press soft, soothing kisses along your jaw, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of what she’s just done to you.

As you collapse against her, your breathing ragged and uneven, she slows her fingers, her touch gentler now as she carefully withdraws, her hand glistening with your release. 

She presses a lingering kiss to your temple, her voice impossibly tender despite the smug satisfaction lacing it.

“See? I knew you could do it. Such a good girl for me.” she murmurs, her words a caress that feels like velvet against your frayed senses. 

Her free hand strokes slow, appeasing circles against your lower back, grounding you as the tremors in your body begin to ebb.

The room feels impossibly quiet now, the only sounds your labored breathing and the warm, satisfied chuckle that hums through Agatha’s chest.

“You’re insufferable.” you mumble weakly against her neck, your voice hoarse and cracked, though there’s a stifled laugh buried beneath the exhaustion.

“And yet….” she purrs, lifting your chin with a single, deft finger until your gaze meets hers. Her piercing eyes hold yours captive, but there’s a glimmer of something softer beneath the smirk curling at her lips—something achingly tender, almost reverent. “Here we are.”

Her thumb brushes over your cheek, the simple, affectionate gesture robbing you of what little breath you’ve managed to reclaim. 

You blink up at her, still dazed, a faint, incredulous smile pulling at your lips.

“Here we are,” you echo, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of a moment that feels suspended in time.

It’s a connection that needs no embellishment, one that feels intimate and inevitable, like it had been quietly waiting for the two of you all along.

The rest of Sunday unfolds in a blissful, lazy haze. 

After the emotionally charged conversation in the morning, the day slows to a gentle rhythm. Agatha suggests a walk to clear your heads, and the two of you meander through a nearby park. 

The air is crisp, the sun peeking through the clouds as you stroll side by side, talking about nothing in particular—favorite seasons, forgotten childhood stories, ridiculous hypotheticals. 

It feels easy, natural, like you’ve been doing this forever.

Back at home, the afternoon fades into evening. You help Agatha prepare a simple dinner, and she insists on pouring you a glass of wine while you work. 

Later, the two of you curl up on the couch, a movie playing on the screen, your head resting on her shoulder. The sound of her quiet laughter at the film’s witty dialogue makes your heart ache with something sweet and new.

But the serenity is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Nicholas bursts in, his bag slung over his shoulder, his cheeks flushed from the cool evening air. 

Rio follows, her gaze sweeping briefly between you and Agatha, lingering just long enough to convey a subtle curiosity, before she offers a polite nod. Bending slightly, she presses a kiss to Nicholas’s cheek, her voice soft as she wishes him goodnight. 

Without another word, she straightens, casting one final glance in your direction, then strides out the door with the same poised elegance she carried in.

“Hey, kiddo!” Agatha calls out, sitting up slightly but keeping her arm draped over the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder.

Nicholas closes the door and freezes the second he turns, his eyes darting between the two of you. 

His brow furrows, and then, with his hereditary dramatic flair, he lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Finally!” he groans, dropping his bag on the floor with a thud. “I was wondering when you two were gonna figure it out.”

You blink, startled. “Wait—what?”

Agatha’s smirk is instant, her lips curling as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What do you mean, ‘figure it out,’ Nicky?”

He rolls his eyes with as if the answer is painfully obvious. 

“I mean the two of you! You’re always talking about each other and asking me stuff.” he quips, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You’re like, ‘What’s your mom’s favorite breakfast?’, and Mom’s like, ‘Do you think she likes scary movies?’. Ugh, it was soooo annoying.”

Nicholas shakes his head, letting out another dramatic sigh as if he’s been a long-suffering martyr to your mutual pining. 

From beside you, you hear the unmistakable sound of a small snort escaping Agatha.

Heat floods your cheeks as you glance at her, but it only makes her grin widen. She arches a single, perfectly smug eyebrow at you, her expression dripping with satisfaction.

“Told you.” she says simply, giving an exaggerated shrug.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning. “This is mortifying.”

Agatha’s laughter fills the room, warm and unrestrained. She reaches out to tug one of your hands away from your face, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture so casual yet affectionate it leaves you breathless.

After that day, You and Agatha decide to take things slow, despite the months you’ve already spent orbiting each other. You want to step out of the roles you’ve occupied—Nicholas’s babysitter, his mom—and discover who you are to each other beyond that.

At first, you were almost afraid. Afraid that someone like Agatha, who seemed so independent and unapologetically confident, might be all fire and intensity, with little space for tenderness beyond fleeting moments. 

But slowly, carefully, she proves you wrong.

When Agatha loves, you realize, she doesn’t hold back. She loves with her entire being, fiercely yet gently, as though nothing outside the world she’s built around you truly matters.

Sure, the sex is breathtaking—raw, unrestrained, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. But with Agatha, it’s so much more than that. 

She doesn’t just make you feel wanted, she makes you feel profoundly seen, utterly cherished. Every touch carries intention, every kiss a pledge of devotion.

She quickly learns your body like a map, her fingers and lips tracing each curve with reverence, savoring every discovery as though unveiling a hidden treasure meant only for her.

But beyond the fiery passion, there’s an unexpected warmth, a softness that takes you by surprise. 

Her teasing sarcasm and sharp wit—cornerstones of who she is—remain ever-present, capable of making you groan in exasperation one moment and laugh until your sides ache the next. 

And yet, as new facets of her emerge, they gradually begin to share space with so much more.

At night, when the world is quiet, Agatha reveals a rare, thoughtful vulnerability, speaking of the things that scare her or the mistakes she’s afraid of repeating.

In the evenings, she pulls you onto the couch, wrapping you in her arms as she teases you about your movie choices, only to stay glued to the screen the entire time.

In the middle of an argument, even when her irritation is clear and the sharpness in her tone feels like a shield she’s reluctant to lower, her gaze softens. Against her own nature, she takes a breath, letting the frustration ebb just enough to say, “I’m listening, go on.” It’s not easy for her, you can see that—but she tries. She chooses to stay, to listen, to understand, even when every instinct might tell her to close off.

Each moment is a small glimpse into a side of her that feels like a gift, a quiet affirmation that she is so much more than you ever imagined.

You also come to realize, that Agatha, for all her snarky remarks and commanding presence, craves affection too. 

She’ll never say it outright, of course, but the way she seeks those little moments of closeness gives her away every time.

The way she tucks you closer to her chest in the morning, long before the rest of the world is awake. The way her hand brushes your hair back as you lean over a book, a casual touch that lingers just a second too long. The way she kisses your temple absentmindedly as she passes you in the kitchen. The way her fingers trail down your arm before settling on your waist as you both stand in the backyard at night, watching Nicholas excitedly point out constellations while Agatha murmurs their names with a quiet smile. The way her fingers softly brush against yours when she hands you a cup of coffee.

These aren’t grand gestures—they’re quiet, unspoken reminders of how deeply she cares. They’re Agatha’s way of saying what she can’t always put into words, of reaching for connection in ways that feel achingly sincere.

Agatha surprises you constantly. 

She starts showing up at the café during your morning shifts, always impeccably dressed, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she strides in like she owns the place. 

“I’m between meetings” she claims casually, though you notice she always stays just long enough to leave your coworkers flustered and whispering about ‘the gorgeous older woman’ who sits at the corner table, sipping her black coffee and glancing at her phone like she has nowhere better to be.

When she catches you watching her from behind the counter, her smirk is instant, as if to say, Yes, hon, I know I’m distracting you. And it never fails to make your pulse race.

She spoils you shamelessly, too. Thoughtful gifts appear with alarming regularity—books she’s noticed you eyeing, a beautiful scarf she swears “just screamed your name,” or your favorite pastries from a bakery across town. 

“Stop fussing.” she says one evening as you eye the expensive wine she’s ordered at a rooftop restaurant. The city lights glitter around you, and the cool night air brushes your cheeks. “You deserve it.”

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss her anyway, her hand slipping up to cup your cheek. Her smile softens, that guarded edge melting just enough to reveal the depth of her affection, and your heart aches in the best way.

For Agatha, you could have stopped working altogether if you wanted to. She made it clear from the beginning that money would never be an issue, brushing off the idea as though it was laughable. 

Still, you hold onto your job at the café. It keeps you busy in the mornings, gives you a sense of independence, and lets you stash away some savings of your own. Besides, you’ve worked there so long it feels strange to think about leaving.

At the same time, you insist on keeping your part-time babysitting job, though you flat-out refuse to let her pay you anymore.

That particular conversation becomes a recurring battle. One day, however, you reach your limit.

It’s the umpteenth time Agatha offers to pay you for the hours you spend with Nicky. She leans casually against the doorframe as you fold Nicholas’s laundry, her voice calm but insistent, a mix of exasperation and charm she wields far too well.

You freeze mid-fold, the heat of your frustration bubbling over.

“Agatha, I swear to God, if you bring this up one more time…” you snap, throwing a pair of socks straight at her chest with uncharacteristic force.

Her smirk falters as she catches them, her eyes widening at the sharpness in your voice.

“You’re seriously yelling at me over socks?” she quips, clearly thrown off but still managing to sound incredulous.

“I’m yelling because I’m done with this conversation.” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “I’m not taking your money for this anymore. Period. End of story. Got it?”

Agatha blinks, stunned into silence. It’s not often you raise your voice, and judging by her expression, she doesn’t quite know what to do with it. 

After a long, weighted pause, she finally lets out an exaggerated sigh, her shoulders slumping dramatically as she tosses the socks back at you.

“Well, you’re impossible.” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back against the doorframe with a look of mock irritation. “I can’t win with you.”

You narrow your eyes at her, still fuming, but the hint of a grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“You already have.” you mutter, chucking another pair of socks her way.

This time, her smirk returns in its full glory. She catches the socks with ease, her expression relaxing as she throws them back with a playful flick of her wrist. “Flatterer.”

After that conversation, the balance you strike feels so natural, so effortlessly right, that it’s hard to remember a time when things were any different.

You spend your mornings at the café, while most of your afternoons are dedicated to Nicholas. Over time, Agatha begins working from home more often, and those afternoons blend seamlessly into dinners shared around the table, followed by evenings that melt into cozy, lazy hours on the couch. 

Even if you don’t see her much while she works—her door often closed as she immerses herself in work—there’s something undeniably comforting about knowing she’s just upstairs. 

It’s in the faint hum of her voice during a call, the creak of floorboards as she shifts her chair, or the brief moments when she steps out to grab coffee, check on Nicholas, or steal a quick kiss from you in the kitchen. 

Her presence lingers throughout the house, steady and grounding, offering a quiet reassurance you hadn’t realized you craved.

The roles you once played haven’t disappeared, but they’ve shifted, harmonizing gracefully into this new dynamic that feels equal parts exciting and comforting.

Agatha doesn’t push you to redefine everything overnight, doesn’t demand more than you’re ready to give. Instead, she meets you where you are, and together, you explore the space between who you were before and who you’re becoming now.

Five months in, Agatha brings it up over breakfast.

“You know…” she begins casually, buttering her toast with the kind of ease that suggests she isn’t about to change your life forever, “it’d make a lot more sense if you just lived here.”

You nearly choke on your coffee, coughing and setting the mug down with a sharp clink. “Are you—are you serious?”

She looks up from her plate, her expression calm but her eyes warm, filled with a certainty that grounds you even as your heart races. “Of course. It feels right, doesn’t it?”

It does. Deep down, you’d known for a while now that this was where you belonged. Still, hearing it aloud, from her, catches you off guard. But there’s no hesitation when you answer.

“Yes.” you say, the word coming out soft but steady. “It does.”

Everything falls into place with an almost disarming simplicity and, by the end of the weekend, your things are integrated seamlessly into her home. 

Your favorite mug finds a spot on her kitchen shelf, your books line the living room walls alongside hers, and the faint scent of your perfume lingers in her bedroom.

Nicholas adjusts effortlessly, almost as if he’d been waiting for this to happen all along. The three of you settle into a domesticity that feels natural, filled with laughter, shared meals, and quiet moments.

Even Rio seems unbothered when she comes to pick Nicholas up on the weekends. She exchanges polite words with you, her demeanor perfectly cordial, before whisking him away for their outings. 

Whatever tension you’d feared never materializes, leaving you to wonder if Agatha had talked to her privately or if Nicholas, in his own way, had smoothed the path between you.

On Saturday mornings, Nicholas claims the kitchen as his domain, declaring himself “Head Pancake Chef” as you and Agatha lounge at the table, sipping coffee and exchanging amused glances while he works.

In the evenings, after Nicholas has gone to bed, the two of you often find yourselves curled up together on the couch, her arm draped lazily over your shoulders as you share quiet conversation, watch a movie or simply sit in comfortable silence.

Every day, every moment, strengthens the sense that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Yet, for months, you’ve held onto your old apartment, keeping it as a safety net—a place to retreat to if things fell apart, if Agatha ever grew tired of you, if it all turned out to be too good to be true. 

You’d told yourself it was practical, that it didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you’d known it was fear keeping you tethered to the space.

One random evening, everything changes.

It’s late, and the house is quiet. You and Agatha are curled up on the couch, one arm draped around your shoulders as you trace lazy circles on the back of her hand. There’s an ease between you, the kind that has grown naturally over the months.

Out of nowhere, she murmurs, “I love you.”

The words land softly but powerfully, knocking the air from your lungs. 

You freeze, your hand stilling on hers as your mind races. For a brief moment, you think you’ve imagined it, your own thoughts playing tricks on you.

But then you glance up, and she’s watching you. Her expression is open yet achingly vulnerable, her lips slightly parted as if she’s bracing herself for your reaction, the faintest flush coloring her cheeks.

Agatha Harkness, who exudes confidence and poise in every other moment, suddenly looks almost shy.

Your heart swells, the response spilling out without hesitation. “I love you too, Agatha. So much.”

Her eyes widen briefly before a slow, radiant smile spreads across her face, lighting her up in a way you’ve never seen before.

She leans in, her movements deliberate yet tender, and when her lips meet yours, it’s as if the world tilts on its axis.

The kiss starts soft, her lips warm and gentle against yours. But it deepens quickly, her hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, her thumb brushing your cheek.

You feel her smile against your lips, a small, unguarded curve that sends warmth flooding through you. When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests lightly against yours, her hand lingering on your cheek as if she’s reluctant to let go. 

Her eyes search yours, glowing with a mix of joy and relief, and you realize that this moment, this love, is as real as it gets.

The next morning, you list your apartment for sale.

Weeks later, it sells, and it’s time to clear it out for good. Agatha insists on coming with you to help despite your protests that there isn’t much left to do, since most of your things had already made their way to her house when you moved in.

Together, you sift through the last remnants of your belongings—forgotten trinkets in the back of drawers, mismatched furniture that doesn’t fit anywhere anymore, and boxes filled with things you can’t remember why you kept.

As you bend down to pick up one of the boxes, you feel the weight of her gaze on you. By the time you straighten, she’s right there—closer than she was a moment ago—her hand curling possessively around your waist, her presence electric.

“What if…” she murmurs, her lips grazing your ear as her fingers slide to the small of your back, “We give this place a proper send-off.”

Before you can respond, her mouth is on yours, claiming and insistent. The kiss is searing, a collision of teeth and tongues that leaves you breathless as she presses you back against the nearest wall.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp as her hands wander, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her. “We’re supposed to be clearing out, not—” your voice falters as her lips graze your neck, stealing your train of thought entirely.

“Oh, we will.” she purrs, her voice dripping with wicked intent. “After.”

What follows is nothing short of ruinous. She doesn’t just touch you—she consumes you, her hands, mouth, and body working in perfect, devastating harmony to claim every inch of you.  

She starts in the kitchen, bending you over the counter with a commanding ease that makes your breath hitch. Her nails dig into your hips as her fingers slide into you, relentless and thorough, her mouth hot and demanding against your neck. The slick sound of her movements mixes with the sharpness of your cries, echoing off the bare walls as her pace quickens, leaving you breathless and clawing for the edge.

In the living room, she pushes you down onto the couch—the same one where you once sat alone, overthinking everything. Now, it’s where she strips you bare and buries her head between your thighs, her tongue working with maddening precision. She doesn’t stop, even as your hips buck against her mouth, her grip on your thighs unrelenting. When you fall apart, her name breaking from your lips, she takes it all, her smirk sinful as she looks up, licking her lips like she’s savoring every second.

Even the bedroom—now a sparse, nearly empty space that offers no distractions—doesn’t escape her attention. She pins you to the mattress with a ferocity that leaves no doubt as to who you belong to, her name a broken mantra on your lips as her pace builds, her body pressing against yours in a way that demands surrender. Her fingers push you over the edge again and again, each climax leaving you trembling and weak, her breath hot on your skin as she praises you through the haze of pleasure.

By the time she’s done with you, every surface bears the evidence of her passion, and you’re left spent, boneless, and utterly wrecked in her arms.

Later, as you sit on the floor together eating takeout amidst the remaining boxes, she looks over at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So…” she says, her voice a lazy drawl. “Think you’ll miss this place?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you lean into her side. “Not even a little.”

Because your home isn’t a space anymore—it’s her.

Exactly one year after that Sunday morning when everything changed, you find yourself reflecting on how far you’ve come.

It’s Friday night and you’re sitting at a cozy restaurant, the golden glow of candlelight reflecting off Agatha’s beautiful features. Her hand brushes against yours on the table, her touch as natural and grounding as the rhythm of your breaths.

Fridays used to be a minefield, an endless loop of questions you were too afraid to ask, feelings you didn’t dare name. You remember those nights vividly, steeped in quiet agony, where every thought, every fleeting moment tied to Agatha—her voice, her gaze, her very presence—was laced with an ache so consuming it felt impossible to escape. 

At times, you can still taste the bitter certainty that nothing you longed for could ever be within reach. Looking back, though, you almost laugh. 

Agatha had nearly driven you insane with her looks, her touches, her maddeningly unreadable smirks. You’d been so sure you were imagining it all, you’d almost lost your mind trying to figure her out.

But now, Fridays have transformed into something else entirely. They’ve become a ritual of joy and love.

They’re your nights. Date nights. Moments stolen just for the two of you while Nicholas stays with Rio or a babysitter. Whether it’s a fancy dinner in the city or a quiet evening at home, these Fridays are sacred.

You glance across the table at Agatha, who’s sipping her wine, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. 

Her smirk curls in that way you know will always make your stomach flip, no matter how many times you see it. But there’s a softness behind it now, a tenderness she doesn’t bother hiding anymore.

“What’s that look for?” she asks, her voice low and familiar, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You smile, bliss flooding your chest. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes in mock disbelief, but the way her thumb strokes the back of your hand betrays her. 

“You’re insufferable.” she mutters, though her tone holds no bite.

“And yet…” you tease, leaning forward slightly, your voice dipping conspiratorially, “Here we are.”

Her lips twitch as though she’s fighting a full smile, and for a moment, you both laugh, the kind of easy, unguarded laughter that fills every quiet corner of your heart.

And as you sit there, her hand in yours and the echoes of your journey fading into the warmth of the present, a quiet certainty blooms within you: you can’t wait to see where this love leads.

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Azerbajian GP Weekend

Masterlist

Thursday had arrived, and so had the media frenzy. It was the traditional pre-race press day, and the interview room was buzzing with journalists and cameras ready to capture every word and reaction. I was scheduled for a multi-driver interview, paired with Franco, Carlos, Max, and Oscar—a mix of veterans and rookies, all bringing their own energy to the room. I was feeling confident, prepared to answer whatever questions were thrown my way, until I noticed a few familiar faces among the journalists—faces I remembered from whispers in the paddock.

After a few light-hearted questions aimed at Carlos and Max, the interview shifted gears when a well-known journalist turned to me with a sharp look in his eyes.

“So, Y/N,” he began, voice dripping with a tone that already felt accusatory, “there’s been a lot of talk about your rapid rise to F1, especially after missing significant time in F2. Some might say that… connections or publicity stunts might be part of the story here rather than pure skill.” He leaned back, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What do you say to people who think you’re here for PR reasons, rather than merit?”

My stomach clenched, but I kept my face calm. This was it—the subtle way they were calling me out, questioning if I was here because of talent or if I was just a “diversity hire” in a sport still catching up with the times. I could feel the tension in the room rise as Carlos and Max glanced at me, both of them experienced enough to know what it was like to be grilled by the press.

I took a deep breath, feeling Franco’s reassuring presence beside me. He shot me a quick nod, like he was silently encouraging me to respond.

“Well,” I began, keeping my voice calm and steady, “I think every driver here has something to prove. Racing is about results, and I’m fully prepared to show what I’m capable of on the track. I know there’s a lot of speculation, and it’s natural—every driver faces it at some point. I’m here because I’ve earned this seat. And I’ll keep proving that every weekend.”

The journalist wasn’t done. He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “Still, disappearing for months mid-season in F2 and then suddenly being ready to jump into F1… it does raise some eyebrows. Care to elaborate on where you were?”

My heart raced. Memories flooded in—of the sleepless nights by my mother’s side, of the last few precious moments we shared. I felt the urge to defend myself, to tell the whole story right there, but I knew better. I took another breath, holding my smile steady.

“As my former team and I have always said, I was undergoing extensive training to prepare for the reserve role I’d committed to with Aston Martin. My team has full confidence in me, and that’s all the focus I’m giving it,” I replied, keeping my tone professional. I felt proud of my answer, but I could tell the journalist was disappointed by my restraint.

Max jumped in, breaking the tension with his classic cool-headedness. “You know, there are always rumors about all of us. It’s all just noise until we’re on track, isn’t it?”

The journalist backed off slightly, though I could tell he wasn’t convinced. Franco shot me a supportive look, mouthing a quick “Nice one” as the attention moved to another driver. I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay composed. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind, reminding me of all the reasons I was here.

After the interview wrapped up, Franco walked over and gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Forget him. That was out of line. You handled it well.”

“Thanks,” I replied, my voice a bit shaky. “I just didn’t expect that to hit so hard, you know?”

He nodded, his eyes kind. “I know. But you showed them that you belong here. Keep doing that, and everyone else will see it too.”

As we left the interview room, Franco nudged me, a curious look in his eyes. "Did you notice how quickly Max jumped in? It’s like he was standing up for you."

I shrugged, glancing back at the room we’d just left. "I don’t know if it was for me specifically," I replied. "Max just seems to hate when journalists get too personal. He probably saw the question as crossing a line. He’s always been a no-nonsense guy."

Franco didn’t seem convinced. "Maybe, but... he didn’t have to say anything at all. A lot of other drivers wouldn’t." He paused, as if carefully choosing his next words. "Look, I’ve been around these drivers a while now, and I know how they talk. I think Max might be one of the few drivers who’s actually looking at what you do on track, not paying attention to those rumors.”

I hesitated, not sure how to process that. “Maybe,” I conceded. “But why would he? He doesn’t know me.”

“Maybe he’s seen the work you’re putting in,” Franco said thoughtfully. “He knows what it’s like to face doubt—he started young too. Besides,” he added, “Max respects hard work. He wouldn’t have stood up for you if he didn’t think you’ve earned your place.”

I wanted to believe Franco, but I couldn’t help being skeptical. “You might be giving him too much credit,” I said. “Honestly, I still think it was more about hating the question than defending me.”

Franco laughed. “Maybe you’re right. Max isn’t exactly Mr. Empathy. But I think he respects that you’ve been keeping your head down and just focusing on racing. People who’ve been on the grid longer can spot real talent, and he wouldn’t bother standing up for you if he didn’t see something there.”

I looked down, smiling to myself. The thought that Max might see past all the gossip and actually believe in my abilities was… a little surreal. But if Franco was right, it meant something. "You know," I said quietly, "maybe that’s enough for now. If I can prove myself to someone like Max, maybe that’s all I need to do for the rest to start paying attention."

Franco nodded. “Exactly. Let them talk. Just keep showing up on track and doing what you do best. You’re already turning heads, whether they admit it or not.”

We walked on in comfortable silence after that, both of us aware that this race weekend would be another chance. Another shot to show everyone—including myself—that I had a place here, no matter who questioned it. 

We parted ways minutes later, Franco being asked to return to his garage for a filming session between him and Alex. I decided to walk around the paddock a bit more —given that most if not every interviewer was in the interview room right now— I had a chance to relax by myself with a nice little undisrupted wandering walk. It didn’t last long however before I was seemingly cornered by the same man who had stood up for me before. Max Verstappen had spotted me from across the paddock and beelined his way right towards me. 

I froze for a moment, a bit caught off guard. Max was one of the last people I expected to seek me out, especially after that brief encounter in the interview room. He was known for being straightforward, but also for keeping to himself, so seeing him walk toward me like this felt... unexpected.

As he approached, I straightened up, unsure of what to say. Max had that usual intense focus in his eyes, but his expression didn’t seem as cold as it often did. He came to a stop in front of me, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets.

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual but direct. "How are you holding up?"

I blinked, momentarily surprised by the question. "I’m good," I replied quickly, forcing a small smile. “Why do you ask?”

Max looked around the paddock, as if checking to make sure no one else was nearby. When he turned back to me, he spoke a little lower. “Just wanted to make sure you’re not letting the stuff they’re saying get to you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What stuff?”

He shrugged, his expression softening a little. “The gossip. The rumors. People are always going to talk, especially when there’s something new, or something they don’t understand.” He paused for a second, looking at me seriously. “But you’ve been doing well. I can see it.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It was... unexpected, to say the least. Max wasn’t exactly the type to give out compliments, let alone stand up for someone in public, especially someone like me. The fact that he was acknowledging it so openly made me second-guess a lot of my assumptions about him.

"Thanks," I said, my voice more tentative than I intended. "I appreciate it."

Max nodded. "I know how it feels to be judged before you even get the chance to show what you can do. It’s not easy." He paused again, and then, almost like an afterthought, added, "If you need someone to talk to or whatever, don’t hesitate."

I was caught off guard once more. Max Verstappen, offering to talk?

"Uh, thanks," I replied, this time more confidently. "I think I’ll be alright, but it’s good to know."

He gave me a small nod, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Good. Keep your head up, alright? They’ll respect you, eventually. Just keep showing up.”

With that, he turned and walked off, leaving me standing there a little dumbfounded. The last thing I expected was for Max Verstappen to go out of his way to check on me, but now I was left wondering if there was more to him than just the hard-as-nails racer everyone saw on TV. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as the rumors made him out to be either.

BIG TIME SKIP 

After Qualifying, I couldn’t help but smile—P10! I’d made it into the top 10, just behind Franco who had secured P9. We were both on cloud nine and decided to grab dinner together to celebrate. We were walking out of the paddock, laughing and joking, when I suddenly heard someone shout Franco’s name.

“Franco! Where are you going?” Lando’s voice rang out across the busy paddock.

Both Franco and I turned, surprised. We saw Lando and Oscar jogging toward us, the latter giving me a fleeting glance. Lando, on the other hand, didn’t spare me a single glance. His eyes were locked on Franco, his tone sharp.

Franco, clearly still riding the high of a great qualifying result, gave him a friendly wave. “Hey, just heading out to grab some dinner. Want to join us?”

Oscar’s eyes lingered on me for a brief moment, and I could swear I saw something akin to pity flicker across his face, but it disappeared so quickly that I couldn’t be sure. Lando, however, didn’t acknowledge me at all, his gaze still glued to Franco.

“I’m good,” Lando replied curtly, his tone flat. “We’ll catch up later. But I’ve heard... you two are quite the topic today.”

Franco shot me a quick glance, clearly uncomfortable, but said nothing as Lando’s words hung in the air. I could feel his eyes shift between me and Franco, clearly sizing up the situation. The tension was palpable, and I knew exactly what he was referring to. The rumors.

“So, uh, what’s it like?” Lando continued, his voice now almost too casual, his gaze flicking over to me. “Being the new face around here, with all the... stories going around?”

Oscar, standing silently at Lando’s side, seemed content to watch the exchange, though his eyes flicked to me, then back to Lando. I could tell he wasn’t quite sure where this conversation was headed.

I wasn’t sure if Lando was looking for confirmation or if he was trying to provoke a reaction, but either way, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. The judgment in his tone wasn’t subtle, and I wasn’t about to let it slide.

“Stories?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow as I turned toward him. “What kind of stories?”

Lando shifted uncomfortably, clearly caught off guard by my question, but he quickly recovered. “You know,” he said with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “The whole... why you suddenly disappeared from F2, then came in and replaced Stroll and all that. Guess people are curious and there are a lot of people willing to tell their stories to fill that gap in.”

Oscar’s eyes darted between us, a slight frown tugging at his lips, but he said nothing. I could see the judgment in Lando’s face now, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“I’m not here to entertain gossip,” I replied, my voice steady but firm. “I don’t know where these ‘stories’ came from, but you’re feeding into them just like everyone else. How about you let me speak for myself? Maybe then you’ll get the real story.”

Franco opened his mouth to speak, likely trying to defuse the situation, but I held up a hand to stop him. I wasn’t going to let Lando get away with it.

“If you really think that just because of my background in this sport, you’re going to judge me on rumors instead of what I can do on track,” I said, my tone cutting through the air, “then maybe you should reconsider how much you actually know from sources that don’t include bias perspectives.”

Lando’s face twitched, and for a moment, I could see the flicker of realization in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being called out so directly. But he wasn’t backing down either.

“Look, I didn’t mean—” he started, but I cut him off sharply, my tone colder than before.

“No, you didn’t mean it,” I snapped, my eyes narrowing. “But you’re still doing it. So maybe before you speak about things you clearly know nothing about, you should think twice. Because I’m not here to be the subject of your gossip.”

The air between us grew tense, and the silence stretched on. Oscar, who had been quietly observing, exchanged a glance with Lando but stayed silent. I could feel the weight of Lando’s eyes on me, but I refused to back down.

“Is that really how it’s going to be?” I asked, my voice hard. “You think you can just judge me based on some rumor mill nonsense without even knowing me? Maybe you should consider that there’s more to me than whatever the hell people want to say about my past. What happens on track is all that should matter. But if you’re still buying into that crap, then maybe you’re not the person I thought you were.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, and I could tell that I had struck a nerve. He didn’t immediately respond, instead glancing at Oscar, who now had a slightly concerned look on his face. Lando shifted on his feet, clearly unsure of how to respond to someone calling him out so forcefully.

“I get it, alright?” Lando muttered, but there was no real sincerity in his voice. “But you’ve got to admit, there’s a lot of speculation.”

I rolled my eyes, the frustration bubbling up inside me. “Speculation is exactly what it is. And it’s none of your business, Lando. What matters is that I’m here, racing, and proving myself every time I get behind the wheel. Maybe if you focused more on that, you’d see it for what it is, instead of judging me based on some stupid rumors.”

I paused for a moment, letting the silence linger between us before I spoke again, my voice sharpening. “And honestly, with all the rumors floating around that you’re a big fan of Trump after some of the things you’ve said in Miami? I’m not surprised you’re so quick to jump on the bandwagon and believe whatever fits the narrative. It’s easier to go along with what the media says, right? But I don’t listen to that stuff. I judge people by their actions, not by what the tabloids want to spin. You don’t know me, Lando, so stop acting like you do.”

I could see him bristle at my words, and for a moment, I could tell that what I said hit harder than he expected. It wasn’t about defending myself anymore—it was about standing up for the idea that I wouldn’t let others define me, especially when they hadn’t bothered to get to know the real me.

Lando’s expression flickered, a mix of frustration and something else—something I couldn’t quite place—passing across his face. For a moment, he was silent, clearly trying to process what I had just said. But I could tell I had made him think, even if just for a brief second.

He didn’t immediately apologize, which told me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t ready to back down yet. But I wasn’t done.

“Just stop hiding behind your assumptions, Lando,” I added, my voice firm. “It’s not a good look. You can’t just brush off people based on things you hear when there’s no real truth to it. It’s lazy, and frankly, it’s disappointing.”

Lando stood there, looking caught off guard by my directness. He wasn’t apologizing, not really. But I could see that I had planted a seed. Maybe it would take a while for him to truly get it, but at least for now, I had made my point. And I wasn’t about to let anyone walk over me—especially not when I knew I was capable of so much more than the rumors said.

“I... didn’t realize it was that big of a deal,” he said, his voice a little quieter now. “I’m just trying to keep up with everything going on around here.” “Well, try harder,” I shot back, my tone biting. “Because if you can’t see past the rumors, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

With that, I turned away, my heart still racing with anger. I didn’t want his apology, not really. I wasn’t looking for anyone’s approval. But I wasn’t going to let anyone make me feel small just because they couldn’t look beyond what they heard. I walked away, leaving Lando and Oscar to whatever thoughts they were processing, knowing that I had made myself clear.

Franco, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave me an approving smile as I returned to his side. I didn’t need to look back to know that the tension between Lando and me wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon. But that was fine by me. It was time for me to prove myself on the track, and if Lando and the others had to learn the hard way, so be it.

[sleepanonymous]

Remember when I made this post talking about Jaws? A good friend found one for Thread The Needle.

George Lever, the man that you are.

Intro

Sleep Token are different, like super major big time different. Softly spoken pop aesthetic meets discordant percussive metal different. Different is great. It tests and pulls at the boundaries by which we choose to asses music by. All in all ST (sleep token) is very close to my heart in terms of what its intentions are and how it tries to achieve it. I worked very closely with ST on the song framing and ensuring that every phase of each song was being presented in the way they originally intended. Much like a prog record there isn’t any sense of an ABAB type repetition that’s common in pop music, instead it’s a textured journey down multiple avenues and pathways, showing and highlighting different perspectives of the song along the way. I could write about this project for some time but I’m very aware that this is supposed to be an engineering / mixing focused blog so I shall move on.

Tracking // Drums

In terms of the space, we ended up at Monnow valley. This happened to be my first ever solo flight session at MV, although nerve wrecking I think it came together rather harmoniously without any negative turns.

The initial outline from ST was to achieve as much as humanly possible without the need for rigid quantisation after the fact. Every play / part, had to emphasis what else was going on. Tricky, but great fun to achieve.

Tracking // Guitars & Bass

All tracked back here at G1, using an array of options like the Kemper, Axe fx and plugin amp sims. The attention wasn’t so much on ‘authentic amp sounds’ but more along the lines of ‘how cool can this sound, can it sound more cool?’ Quite a different approach considering some would be more enclined to try and ensure that ‘this does definitely sound like a 5150’ over what it actually does for the context that it is sitting within (the songs DNA)

** Cool bit, for the end part of TTN, the guitars were tracked 6 times. 3 different takes / tones each side. More tone, more drone.** – George

Bass, I think is a combination of my jazz bass and some software stuff, obviously my poor 4 string won’t handle going down to drop ZZZZ so that’s when the synth stuff needs to kick in, however I do believe at those parts the Jazz is playing the upper octave for that sense of movement and clank.

Tracking // Vocals

How freaking amazing is this dudes voice? Seriously? I used a different mic for each song, each time he sounds amazing. This is what it’s all about, right here. A great voice always sounds great. We used my modded Oktava m319 for one track, the AKG c414 b-uls for another and the sm7b on one more. Who cares what processing went on, just listen to how mega dope his voice is. Can you tell I appreciate his voice? Haha!

Gear Used

Drums – Tracked by G1 at Monnow Valley Kick In – Beta91a + D112 Kick Out – U47 Snare Top – 57 Snare Bottom – 441 Toms – md421 HH – 7b Ride – c451 China – c451 OH – Modded Oktava mk012 in ORTF RM1 – R121 RM2 – C414 RM3 – U87

Guitars Kemper / Driftwood Profile Pack (along with other bits and bobs too for the multi tracked parts) Bass Dingwall Darkglass > FabFilter Saturn

Vocals Different mics for different sections C414 BULS / 7B / Oktava m219

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Have you ever wanted your own Stonehenge, go kart track, tennis court, dock with boat lift,

farm,

fruit tree orchard with gazebo,

and a house that looks like a ship (sorta)? Built in 2009 in Guilford, CT, the home has 6bds, 5ba, $35M + $990mo. HOA. Actually, I don't know why they would build a place like this in CT, when you can only enjoy the outdoors a few mos. out of the year.

While the grounds are amazing, the house looks slightly dated.

It looks like the wood accents have an Oriental flavor.

This is interesting- the floor tells you where to put the pool table.

The kitchen mixes dark and light woods. I like the multi-colored lights over the counter.

Love the red ovens. What do you think of the random black fronts on the cabinetry?

The kitchen is galley style and has nice swirling black quartz counters and backsplash.

Very large dining room with a view of the CT shoreline and doors to the patio.

On the 2nd level, the hall looks nautical with the round porthole windows, window seats and storage. The wood looks like it would be in a boat.

The round part of the house that looks like a ship houses a home gym.

Small sitting room.

A lovely spiral staircase goes up to the rounded part of the house. It's an observatory with windows all around and there's also an outside deck.

This is nice.

Full outdoor kitchen and lots of seating.

There's the boat lift off the dock.

You can see the tennis court here. There's a guest house on the property, also.

Look at that. There's so much on this property.

This is the carriage house.

The house comes with 3 different plots of land, and the buyer must buy all 3, for a total of 13.03 acres. The house properties are on the shores of Leetus Rocks and Goose Rocks.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/215-Uncas-Point-Rd-Guilford-CT-06437/58904013_zpid/

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

David Bowie - Space Oddity 1969

"Space Oddity" is a song by the English singer-songwriter David Bowie. It was first released on 11 July 1969 as a 7-inch single, then as the opening track of his second studio album, David Bowie. It is a tale about a fictional astronaut named Major Tom; its title and subject matter were partly inspired by 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and Bowie's feelings of alienation at that point in his career. Its sound departed from the music hall of his debut album to psychedelic folk inspired by the Bee Gees; it was one of the most musically complex compositions he had written up to that point. "Space Oddity" is considered one of Bowie's finest recordings and remains one of his most popular songs. It has appeared in numerous "best-of" lists, including the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame's "500 Songs that Shaped Rock and Roll". It was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2018.

The label rush-released the single to capitalise on the Apollo 11 Moon mission, which was launched five days later. According to Bowie: "It was picked up by British television and used as the background music for the landing itself in Britain … Though I'm sure they really weren't listening to the lyric at all; it wasn't a pleasant thing to juxtapose against a moon landing. Of course, I was overjoyed that they did." Upon realising the dark lyrics, the BBC ceased playing it until the Apollo 11 crew safely returned home. It initially sold poorly but soon reached number five in the UK, becoming Bowie's first and only chart hit for another three years. Reissues became Bowie's first US hit in 1972, and his first UK number one in 1975. Bowie revisited the Major Tom character in later singles, notably the sequel song "Ashes to Ashes" (1980).

A range of artists have covered "Space Oddity" and others have released songs that reference Major Tom or develop the story of "Space Oddity". In May 2013, the Canadian astronaut and artist Chris Hadfield, commander of Expedition 35 to the International Space Station (ISS), recorded a video of "Space Oddity" while stationed on the ISS that went viral and generated media coverage. It was the first music video to be recorded in space. In the video, filmed towards the end of Hadfield's time on the ISS, Hadfield sang and played guitar while floating around the space station. On Earth, Joe Corcoran produced and mixed the backing track with a piano arrangement by the multi-instrumentalist Emm Gryner, who worked with Bowie during his 1999–2000 concert tours. The lyrics were somewhat altered; rather than losing communication with Ground Control and being lost in space as a result, Major Tom receives his orders to land and does so safely, reflecting Hadfield's imminent return from his final mission to the ISS. The song also mentions the Soyuz spacecraft that Hadfield travelled in. Hadfield announced the video on his Twitter account: "With deference to the genius of David Bowie, here's Space Oddity, recorded on Station. A last glimpse of the World." Bowie's social media team responded to the video, tweeting back to Hadfield, "Hallo Spaceboy …", and later called the cover "possibly the most poignant version of the song ever created".

Hadfield's performance was the subject of a piece by Glenn Fleishman in The Economist on 22 May 2013 analyzing the legal implications of publicly performing a copyrighted work of music while in Earth orbit. "Space Oddity" is the only song of Bowie's for which he did not own the copyright; his publisher granted Hadfield a one-year licence to the song. When the one-year licence expired on 13 May 2014, the official video was taken offline despite Bowie's explicit wishes for the publisher to grant Hadfield a licence at no charge to record the song and produce the video. Following negotiations, the video was restored to Youtube on 2 November 2014 with a two-year licence agreement.

"Space Oddity" received a total of 86,5% yes votes! Previous David Bowie polls: #33 "I'm Afraid of Americans", #235 "Life on Mars?" (and original artist of #118 "The Man Who Sold the World")

[melodic-haze]

I WAS WAITING FOR THE ASKBOX TO BE OPENED AGAIN WOOHOO…

anyway. How about a belly bulge from a strap with Robin? Like, trying out different straps with Robin and the one is bigger then the bigger belly bulge on her stomach is!!!

-🐿️

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Robin x dom!fem!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader with a strap but that's probably evident HAHAHA, squirting

☆ — NOTES: I JUMPED ohhh 🐿 how I love your mind ik you sent this when I last opened my askbox I'm so sorry it took this long 💀💀💀💀💀

I went crazy insane before sitting down to write this bc HOLY FUCK

For the record I'd like to think that this was Robin's initial idea. She got way too curious and decided to just maaaybe suggest experimenting with sizes :3

And maybe she wants to see how it feels to be stuffed silly but shhh you don't need to know that (you probably already know LOL)

You start with a smaller size before buying new ones that are bigger than the last......but you just can't help but notice that whenever you both look around the site for another one, she always seems to linger at a particularly large one before you gently nudge her and snap her out of whatever train of thought she was in

So you end up buying that exact one in secret before surprising her, in which case?

The moment you revealed your 'mystery gift', you find that you've never seen Robin's eyes practically sparkle this much in such a peculiar way; it shined with a humorous mix of surprise, amusement and heated desire.

"Is this..?"

"I've noticed your eye on it more than once—for a multi-talented performer, you're not exactly discreet," you joked.

She smiles bashfully, "I suppose I've let my excitement show once or twice..."

"Really."

She laughs in that melodic tone you've easily grown to love, "Oh, hush, you!"

But then her eyes drift back to the new toy you've bought her.. and her hand idly strokes the false appendage, the size comparison between it and her hand being.. definitely something.

You hadn't even realised you were staring at her (and her movements) until you heard her clearing her throat, "Y-Yes? Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

She gives you a light smirk, the wings on her head lightly flapped as if it were tittering, "I was going to ask if you'd like to try it out on me but if you're preoccupied with something, then-- mmph! ..Mm..."

You had silenced her with a quick yet deep kiss, the dildo pressing down on both your stomachs and earning you an excited moan before you drew back, "Was that enough of an answer for you, angel?"

"Mhm..." Her hand went to feel the toy leaning on her stomach, as if a prelude for the real event, "More than satisfactory."

Oh god when you get down to it, it's like she's absolutely hypnotised. Robin's DEFINITELY a lot more, for the lack of a more eloquent term befitting for such a lovely lady 🥰, sluttier and you've found that out for a bit now, but you've never seen her like this—all that's happening right now is Robin blowing you and yet it's as if she's already so dumb and eager as she drools on your cock. Can't even fit it in her mouth, what's the chance that she'd fit in her cunt????

Turns out she's determined to have you (and your new toy) inside of her no matter what 🤷‍♀️ gotta respect the woman's perseverance 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

She winces when you try to put it in at first (with a LOT of questioning her beforehand about whether she's sure she can handle it, which she says she can but still) and you take your time with it, letting her adjust to the stretch little by bit. Something inside her wants you to just shove it all in but she 1) knows better and 2) doesn't want to worry you 🫶🫶🫶🫶

It takes a while but when you finally bottom out inside her she is WEAK AS HELLLLLLL❗️❗️ Her eyes are half-lidded, her breaths fast, drool gathering on the corner of her mouth.......oh she's already gone and you haven't even started moving yet

The moment you do though??? Ohhh boy oh boy oh BOYYYYYYY her wings are a DEFINITE tell on how she's feeling. With the way they're flapping and twitching as you piston her deeply, you can easily say she was enjoying it ☺️

And alsooo the moment you've all been waiting for :33333

You had been so distracted with your Halovian lover's reactions that you almost didn't notice the very noticeable bulge on her...

Oh. Oh.

"Robinnn..." You cooed with a clear smirk on your lips, "I'm sure you can manage to look down here, right? It'll be worth it."

You accentuate your point further by gently grazing your hand onto the evident bulge on her stomach disappearing and reappearing every time you plunged the strap inside her. She looks down at the feeling with unfocused eyes before they widen at the realisation...

And then you push.

The reaction you get is one you wish you recorded for preservation—she screams as her nails claw on the sheets underneath her, hips shaking up and pushing herself even further into your cock. The tip ends up hitting a particular spot and her eyes roll back as you feel some sort of pressure hitting onto your strap.

The moment you pull out, a jet of liquid squirts out and hits you and the strap both. It takes a while before her orgasm actually starts to recede.

...

And you need her to do that again, you resolve within yourself, as you use the wings on her hips as handlebars and pull her back on your dick without a warning.

You don't stop for a while, that much is clear

Yk what else is clear? That Robin's a SIIIIZE QUEEEEEN I love her 🥰🥰🥰 She's soooo stretched out and fucked out by the end of it and yk what the best part is???

She makes sure to show you just how much she appreciates her very big gift in any way you'd want ☺️☺️

She's gonna have so much fun the day after when she goes to work ahahahah no fr I'd say jokes but I'm really not. She'll think about what you've done and what you now have and she'll feel her pussy clench as she gets distracted by her own thoughts when she REALLY shouldn't be 😭

[semischarmed]

Danny

Always have to keep you guys guessing ;) so this one is veeeeery different from my normal content, but I figured I’d put something tamer to balance out the upcoming Pt. 2 to that Thread story. It’s a bit long, but I didn’t feel like keeping two concurrent multi-parters. Let me know what you think!

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

“So, it’s the necklace?” I asked the professor at the university. It was a wonder I was able to keep up with even half of the lecture that had just transpired. 

“Something like that.” The professor replied back to our small group. “We’re all just a sea of electrical impulses. With this computer model, we can accurately track and mimic the exact electrical shocks needed to replicate a mind. Of course, the mind is so much data, the transfer-the upload needs to be instantaneous with an equivalent download- the university doesn’t give us enough grant money for computers that can store that much data, much less secure it. So, we needed biological means of storage. That’s why there’s an even number of participants”.

The room was utterly confused. For one, there was definitely an odd number of participants. Dr. Cohn was never known for dumbing down complex concepts, but even the smartest kids in class seemed stumped the past few hours. Maybe he didn’t have to go in that level of depth for his experiment.

Our group was a mix. It seemed like a sampling of the very best of the class, and a few average performers. I did find it weird they offered extra credit to students that probably didn’t need it. Sticking out like a sore thumb was Chad. He was the school quarterback, though no one was sure for much longer, as he was on academic probation. I couldn’t help but speculate with Kat, a top performer, on his placement. Combining our limited knowledge on the students in our class, and the school’s football team, we landed on this being some sort of extra credit that the university probably forced on poor Dr. Cohn. Ever the nosy one, Mackenzie piped in. “Of course they’d try to save their star quarterback. I heard 3 professors already quit trying to bring up his GPA. This is basically his last shot“.  

And then there was Danny. Part of that “very best” group. Unlike the other students in the room, he seemed to take in the professor’s whole lecture and was deep in thought. His face lay still, serene. But I could see the intelligence behind his eyes spinning to life. I always liked when he did that, like he was chewing on an idea before spitting out the most brilliant insights. Or maybe I just like how the corner of his mouth would turn up into a small smile when he finished thinking things through. I caught myself staring again, thanking my luck that no one had seen. Mackenzie laughed a little behind me. I sighed, laughing a small defeat. Almost no one had seen. 

“So it basically swaps our brains?” Danny inquired. He looked around the room, gauging our comprehension. That was when it clicked for me. He took note and let out a small smile. I smiled back. That was the other thing I liked about the guy. He always seemed to want everyone to succeed. This wasn’t the first time he’d thoroughly condense a difficult topic into a quick word or phrase the class could understand. His eyes smiled whenever he could recognize concepts “clicking” for people and I saw it do the same as my other classmates- even Chad- figured it out. I recoiled a little, from a nudge from Mackenzie. I sighed again, airing a “thank you” her way. I had been staring again.

“No, nothing like that! Could you imagine how difficult an operation like that would be? All this does is swap your mind.” Aaaand just like that, we were back to confusion. Danny smiled though.

“Got it. So your brain’s the hardware, your mind’s the software. The necklaces do a switcheroo and then new hardware, same software- or, vice versa, I suppose.” Back on track.

“Wait, how much of ‘me’ is in the hardware? Like my memories?” I blurted out, immediately growing red. That seemed to have garnered an approving smile from Danny. I grew redder.

The professor’s eyes lit up. “Now you’re thinking like a scientist.” He laughed before shrugging. “Who’s to say… we are running an experiment after all”. Dr. Cohn always was a messy one.

“So, uh, how long is it supposed to last?” Mackenzie asked.

“That’s the fun of it, once we’re paired, the switch can go for as little or as long you as want!” We. That threw me off a little. I caught his glance to Chad. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a part of this experiment too.” The professor said, with a smile that felt too wide. “Don’t forget to record your notes and thoughts into this log book. For privacy, they’ve been password protected- we’ll reconvene this little group in a year and just draft up a summary of your experiences from these books.”

There was an obvious question everyone’s mind. Thankfully, Kevin asked it. “So who’s swapping with who?”

The professor’s eyes lit up in excitement. “We’ve all been paired, randomized of course. I’ll leave the pairings to figure out when they’d want to swap. Just put on your necklaces at 6pm tonight and start your log books. After that, whenever either of you squeezes your necklace, the swap will ensue”. From the way the professor’s eyes kept darting to Chad, something told me it hadn’t been entirely random.

I thought through the possible pairings. Kevin was kind of cute, I guess. Though I wasn’t sure if it was just the airport effect with how limited our group size was. Kat or Mackenzie would just be weird. Mackenzie especially- that girl knows a little too much about me and lord knows what she’d do behind my wheel. Running down the list of people, there was Chad. Of course, who wouldn’t want to be in Chad’s shoes- I had to dispel a dirty thought that passed my mind. Everyone’s probably thinking it. The professor’s body wouldn’t be too bad either, I could always just pressure the faculty into giving me better grades, maybe boost the grades of my friends. And then there was Danny. Danny. My heartrate shot up instantly.

Sitting in my dorm room, I looked at the clock with a bit of fear. “5:55 pm,” it read. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. “5:59 pm”. Nope. There was nothing calm about this. I closed my eyes shut, as I felt the necklace whir a little. Looks like someone else already squeezed it. 

Zzzip

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

“Log book 1: 

<3

It was Danny. Holy fuck, I got to be in Danny.”

I stared at the journal entry. That was all I could manage to write with my shaking hands. I could hardly believe it. A lifetime can change in 5 minutes, apparently. My heart was still beating and my face still flushed when we switched back. He had a soccer game so our first meeting had to be short. 

 My first minute was just looking down at my new Danny-worn hands, breathing through his lungs, inhaling as much as I could of his room. I wanted to commit this man to memory. My logic-or, Danny’s logic perhaps, told me there would inevitably be more swaps to come, but my mind wouldn’t have it. Whatever piece of Danny I could get, however minuscule, I wanted to stretch every moment infinite.

I felt a sense of guilt wash over me, as my new Danny-worn package began to harden when I realized he was in soccer gear. I tried to shake off the feeling- I couldn’t do that to him. Then came the text. I recognized the number of course, it was my old body’s. “Hey man, glad to see we’re partners”. My heart stirred. “It’s Danny, but you probably already knew that”. To see him text me so casually froze me in place. “Anyways, I do have a game coming up, mind if we switch back?” I couldn’t even bring Danny’s hands to answer himself. “I’ll take that as a yes”.

Zzzip

And just like that, I was back. My hand clinging to my chest, breaths ragged. 

Wait, Fuck. Was I still hard in his body when we switched back?

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

Zzzip

“Log book 7:

Met up today. Joint gym day. 

Gym feels better in Danny’s body. Unsure if exercise has a different effect on people’s bodies, or if it’s tied to our minds. Seems to be a lag in my emotions.”

I’m not really one to be consistent with exercise. I set the book down, and relocked it, panting as I had in our first switch, but this time due to Danny working my body to the brink.

I think he noticed, because he apologized profusely when I slumped in the bench to catch my breath in the locker room.

I can’t believe I had agreed to it. Danny wanted to test the effects of exercise with different bodies. He stated he wanted to see what it was like doing routine exercises in a different body. Does the body retain that physical memory? Or is it the mind? I only agreed because it was Danny. So, there I was, in the school gym staring at the door like a fish out of water. 

I felt a reassuring hand on my back before my ears immediately shot red when I realized whose hand it was. “Do you have your log book on hand? Should probably write down notes immediately after the switchback”. I immediately panicked at thought that he wanted to compare notes, thinking back to my first entry but he seemed to have caught on to my thought process and immediately dismissed the idea. “It wouldn’t make sense to taint the data with outside factors. Danny was probably the only person that fully understood the professor’s entire experiment so I took his word for it.

When we swapped, I had to focus on not instantly growing hard. For someone seemingly so bookish, the guy was surprisingly fit. Walking to the treadmill, I felt every muscle brimming with power. My first run in his body. Euphoric. Danny was a well-oiled machine. Every component moving in tandem. Lungs drawing in and out powerful gusts of air. Eyes staring me in the mirror, furrowed in powerful determination, and legs gliding with a grace that did not diminish the power behind each foot. I lost myself in the exercise, content to just being inside his body, guided by his body. I finished the run with a heavy pant, knowing full well I’d be hard beyond belief at what lay before me. I eyed myself in the mirror, in sweat-laden body of my crush. The scent was indescribable. Like a pleasant musk basking in the damp earth. Was it always this good? Was this how other people felt when they exercised? I twirled the necklace around Danny’s neck, making sure to not squeeze, mentally thanking whatever gods there may be for this experience.

I looked back at Danny, in my body. His running form was a bit clumsy, but there was a confidence in them that I didn’t often see in myself. Maybe a trick of the light, or residual feelings from the run I just had but I was captivated. I honestly looked almost cute like this. 

He finished, panting before immediately pulling out his book and writing a few notes. He beamed back at me, pointing at the necklace. Even in my body, that smile was unmistakably his. I smiled back, ready to swap once more.

Zzzip

Weird. I still felt the infatuation. I looked back at the body I had just inhabited, still feeling the butterflies in my stomach. It was Danny so I was used to those, but not immediately after a swap. The past few times it always took a second or two to readjust. Danny looked at me, a bit uncomfortable. No doubt it had been from the grave face I was making. I shook my head, not wanting to worry him. Or worse, force a premature end to this experience. “It’s nothing, just a hell of an exercise haha”.

This may be a bit of a problem.

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

“Interesting, and you’re sure it’s residual feeling?” Said a slightly disinterested Chad, eyeing his dreamy biceps.

“Yes, when I.. uh.. felt angry in his body and switched back, my body did too.”  

“Well it is a swap, of course so your mind returning to its body would feel the same things it felt…” The professor in chad’s body spoke in a slightly faraway tone, like there was something he’d rather be doing. “Though, it shouldn’t be this instant. It’s not physically possible unless…”

I winced, worried for the worst and hoping to remain Danny’s partner.

“This might be a bit of an issue if those necklaces are defective…” He then mumbled something about permanent effects on the mind. “If they are, we’d have to stop the entire experiment. It wouldn’t be right-“ The professor caught a glimpse of Chad’s body in the reflection of his door before looking back at me. “Look, maybe just limit the swaps to low pressure situations, and try to avoid high-emotion situations in case your ‘residual’ hypothesis is correct. Cause if that were true, it would mean you leave a little of yourself every time you swap.”

“Got it, professor”.

“Maybe keep this side effect a little secret for now. We wouldn’t want the others worrying and tainting the data,” Chad’s body spoke in an authoritative tone as his hands sauntered below the desk. “Oh, and please close the door on your way out“.

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

“Log book 50:

Pain.” 

We had been swapping fairly frequently, despite the professor’s warning. Danny was a drug I couldn’t shake. The guy was my kryptonite and he had no idea. Everytime we swapped, every moment we shared, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the professor’s words. Every swap back, I could feel my heart beating as wildly as my first time, stomach churning pleasantly. It was like a wave of sweetness whenever I had a chance to be Danny. Then, the guilt came soon after.

Danny seemed to like the spontaneity. Eventually, we settled on free-switching, aside from classes. Some days, I’d randomly switch and my eyes would focus on my homework, completed with a little smiley face drawn on the corner. I tried that little trick with him once, only to get a text back of his graded assignment, scored uncharacteristically low for the top performer, followed by another text “Nice try anyway lol” 

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

“Log book 190:

I hate you.”

Zzzip

“Danny, is something wrong?” The shock of the situation stopped me from initially processing anything I was seeing. My clumsy hands. I had been fumbling with my collar, when I accidentally initiated a swap. A wave of embarrassment hit, and then anger. Seething, bottomless anger.

I almost dropped the flowers Danny’s body had been handing her. Without explanation, I quickly squeezed the necklace to send me back.

Zzzip

I sat in stunned silence for a second, before the anger drew me back to my thoughts.

Who was I angry at? Of course it was a girl. He had to have been dating around. It was presumptuous to even think we were anything more than partners in a crazed professor’s experiment. And yet, I was still angry. Irrationally angry at Danny for not picking up on the hints, maybe angry at the professor for dragging me into this mess in the first place. But most of all, I was angry at myself. 

I felt the buzz of a text, ears still heated. Danny again. “You ok?”  

I sighed as reasoning took over and anger transformed into sadness. I wrote a quick note in the log book, then pulled my phone up before texting back. “Yeah”.

“Lol Claudia says hi”, came a text back. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to impart any jealousy in my response, but I was soon stopped by another text. 

“If you wanted to meet my sister, you should have just asked lol”.

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

“Log book 290

I’m stupid. I’m sorry. I’m stupid. I’m sorry.”

I’m so sorry. I said to Danny in my head, as I slumped in my chair. You’re so fucking stupid. I told myself. These past few months swapping back and forth with Danny had been a dream. 

From something as simple swapping before brushing his teeth to even taking a class as him. I savored every single moment. 

But as the experiment had been drawing to a close, and as I felt my time nearing and my guilt intensifying, other, less kind thoughts bubbled in my head. 

What if I did ‘that’ in his body. What if I did it while thinking of my own body. I gulped. Danny didn’t know, and from what I could tell, he hadn’t suspected a thing. “Maybe I could make him like me.” Even just saying it out loud felt like a taboo. I could just imagine Danny’s disapproving face as I pondered corrupting our newfound friendship, and corrupting him at his core.

The devil on my shoulder continued. We’ve been swapping all this time. And he doesn’t notice. My dick stirred. He wouldn’t notice and you could train his body to fall in love with you.

No. No. I couldn’t do that to Danny. I eyed the near approaching date on the calendar- the date the experiment would end- and I gulped again. I pulled up a photo of him.

Darkness gripped at my chest, as I pondered my next step. And then I squeezed.

“Danny, I love you and I’m sorry.”

Zzzip

My heart, or rather Danny’s, began to beat faster and faster. I pulled up a fairly difficult puzzle before I swapped, so I knew I had some time with his flesh before he’d try to swap back.

I gingerly pulled down his shorts, staring at his bulge hungrily. Then I slowly teased out his dick, moaning at the feeling of flesh touching flesh. Being in his body, having this level of access to Danny. I was hard instantly.

It felt almost macabre, seeing his flesh move to my every whim, forced to feel my feelings. I wanted to etch myself into him as much as possible, and with every pump I moaned my original body’s name. It took all of the restraint in Danny’s body, which, apparently was a lot, to not burst. But one can only hold out so long, hearing one’s crush moan their name in delirious ecstasy. I sang my name in his resonant voice one more time, before flashing instantly to my body and back to his.

Zzzip Zzzip

I released his sticky white seed in what felt like the first cum of my life. I suppose, in a sense, it was. I hoped that sealed it. Conditioning Danny to me. The swaps were imperceptibly fast, and I took the lack of delay in emotions as a sign of success.

Zzzip Zzzip

I released a breath in Danny’s body I didn’t know I was holding, basking in the afterglow before immediately realizing what I had just done. 

Guilt came out of me drop by drop. As his tears began to leave their marks on his shirt, I slowly began to clean up. The pleasure of the situation still clung to me, as I mournfully switched back. Then came another gut-wrenching wave of sadness. Danny, I’m so sorry. 

I looked to the incomplete puzzle in front of me, laughing a little at his lack of progress to ease the sadness.

Then came another text from Danny. “Dude, that puzzle’s impossible”. 

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

“Log book 300:

Food definitely tastes different in a different body.”

“Look, just try them man” Danny said with a smile, holding a fry in his hand. And the necklace in another. 

Only a few short days left before the experiment’s end. I made no mention of that night, nor the professor’s words to Danny. 

Danny had, in fact, been coming by more often. Prompting more hangouts, initiating more switches. I was elated every time he asked. I even caught a few longer glances from his body, marinating in pleasure at seeing this new side of Danny. However happy I had been, underlying it all was the guilt of my deed.

Danny again held the fry out expectantly. I laughed slightly. “Haha, fine”.

Zzzip

I took a bite from his body. Yep, it was definitely a fry. My own body looked up at me, smiling a Danny-flavored smile before grabbing the half-bitten fry. “Now let’s control for this variable. Same fry,” he said, wiggling it in the air.

Zzzip

I stared at the fry covered in a bit of his saliva. Heaven. I looked back at him and nodded. As we parted ways, I couldn’t help my smile from peeking through. 

He was right, it did taste better on my end.

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

“So, we’re not getting paid”? I asked Danny, as we sat in the table. He had a few wine glasses in front. 

It had been a full year since the experiment first started. Despite the general weirdness from the other groups swapping, everyone had been relatively well adjusted. Except for Chad, or whatever he’d be called now. A swapped Kat couldn’t help but spill the beans. Apparently, the professor had no obligation to offer the guy extra credit. He specifically targeted the quarterback for his experiment. What’s worse, he’d apparently created a newer version of the necklace. One that could overwrite and transmit. Chad’s frat brothers mentioned he was offered another credit for participating in a second experiment for this new necklace. After that, no one had seen either person. The pair had mysteriously disappeared, leaving the school scrambling to cover up everything. All most of us knew was one day we suddenly had perfect grades retroactively added for the past year, along with a very scary letter prompting a signature. 

“The university isn’t going to do anything about this.” He said. I was still skeptical as I slowly eyed one of the wine bottles that once graced former Dr. Cohn’s shelf. “It’s the least they could do for all those, ethics violations”. He pulled the cork with a satisfying pop, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he handed me a glass. “Now c’mon, try this”. 

I suppose alcohol had a way of loosening me up. “So…. we’re not getting paid”? I asked again, sarcastically this time. It had been a year, so talking to Danny felt easy. I thought back to my log book, fully intending on burning the thing. Danny shook his head.

“Hard to put a price on crimes against humanity. Or, something like that” he laughed. “The university just said to dump everything and basically forget that experiment ever happened.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well. I shrugged, knowing money or even perfect grades for a year held no candle to the experience of a lifetime I just had with Danny. I was afraid of the answer, but it had to be asked. “What should we do with these things?” I asked, looking at the necklace still gracing his beautiful neck. His eyebrows raised as he saw the same necklace gracing mine. 

“I mean, by now, you’re pretty used to it, right?” He asked with an almost pleading look in his eye. There was something bugging him. I watched as he fiddled with his feet. “Maybe…” His ears turned bright red. It was riveting finally seeing this side oh him. More than that, it was downright cute. “M-Maybe” he stammered again. Danny took a deep breath to calm himself, though his scarlet face told all. “Maybe we can keep. Um. Swapping. Sometimes, sometimes I like being you, and sometimes I kind of like when you’re me.” He looked at me and smiled weakly, trying to change the subject. “A-Anyway, you need a place to stay next year, r-right? It kind of feels like we’ve already been roommates these past 12 months, what’s another 12?” His sweet words did nothing the dampen the guilt I felt in my betrayal. In any other circumstance, I’d have died happy just hearing that confession from him. Instead I could only think back to the professors words. I did live, at least partially, in Danny throughout this past year. It felt like a betrayal of myself to not come clean.

“Danny, listen. I think I need to tell you first, in your body…” My breath hastened, and I felt my stomach churn. How do you tell a guy what you’ve done with his body- *in* his body? Danny’s face frowned in concern as my bubbling emotions seemed to knock him out of his quick spell of shyness.

He smiled a little. “Look man, whatever you’ve done in my body, I’ve probably done too.” His smile widened. “Your body is mine, my body is yours. Call it even”. More words that would have swept me off my feet, had I not been confessing. More torture ensued.

“I went to the professor about it a few months ago and never told you” I continued. I was practically holding back tears. “Our necklaces were bugged, I think”.

“The professor said…” I gulped. “It was possible that when we switch, our minds don’t come through all at once.” Now tears did begin to swell. “You know how it’s supposed to take a second for your emotions to catch up. Well, when we switch, I still feel the same emotions…”. I gulped. “Since day 1, I think I’ve overwritten your, um, preferences”. Danny’s poker face felt like a dagger in my heart. It’s a face I often made in his body when I was in deep thought, so I knew he had to have been processing to the same conclusion. I could practically see the gear turning in his head. Click.

Face still an enigma, Danny waited a moment and then asked a simple question. “When did you tell the professor?” Click. 

I sniffled as I laid it bare in front of him. “5 months ago. Danny, I’m sorry! I dunno, I just thought maybe… maybe if we kept switching, if our minds kept being in each other’s bodies. Maybe if a little piece of how I felt kept lagging behind, you might have-“ Now the gear was fully spinning and I saw the realization hit his face. I had no idea what he was going to do. Punch me? Maybe. Run away in disgust? Likely. Instead, Daniel had done something equally surprising. His hand rested on my shoulder in a reassuring fashion. Then that same hand motioned me forward.

My memory of the next moment felt like a million moments in one. It was something so outside my realm of possibilities, my brain simply couldn’t process. The whiplash hit my senses all at once. Sweet but a bit salty. A moment of quietness before the background sounds of the campus slowly drizzled back in. The scent of fresh laundry and damp earth. My eyes took even longer to adjust from black to red to an image slowly refocussing. Last was my brain, which had been stunned into silence. I sat back in shock, repeating the same phrase over and over in my head. Danny just kissed me.

He laughed, eyes twinkling and mouth pulled into a smile, beaming in the way that always made my heart swoon. “That theory’s bogus. Trust me. I haven’t felt any different”. He smiled again, sheepishly this time, before fishing something from his backpack’s large pocket. He looked at the item in front of him, hand slightly shaking in hesitation before making his decision. Slowly, he held up his own log book, flipped to the very first page:

“Log Book 1:

<3 ”

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

[bikefuckersoftheworldunite]

If you ever wondered why Valentino Rossi nicknamed himself 'Rossifumi' in his long- haired, fairing-banging days in the smaller classes then you need look no further than Norifumi Abe's now-legendary stint at the front of his debut grand prix at Suzuka in 1994.

Fresh from winning his national championship, Abe was catapulted into the international spotlight with a wild-card ride that drew gasps from racing fans around the world. At just 18-years of age, the Japanese rider seemed completely at ease mixing it with two riders who had won 34 500cc grands prix and a world championship between them at that time.

Not only was there a new name but a new style to admire too. Much of Abe's riding under braking was done perched precariously over the front of the motorcycle, his midriff arched upright over the fuel tank as he laid the bike on its side. The long, flowing hair protruding from the multi- coloured Shoei added to the image of a rider who held a blithe disregard for the reputations in front of him.

Valentino on watching Suzuka 1994: Abe had long straight hair and even when he was standing still, he looked like a great character. But most of all, he rode like a madman. He was absolutely fearless….I got up every morning at 7 a.m. to watch the replays of that race in Suzuka. Every single morning, for two whole months.

Abe quit Honda several months later and went on to race twice that season - at Brno and Laguna Seca - in Marlboro Team Roberts colours as a replacement for Daryl Beattie. He finished a more than credible sixth both times. He was grand prix racing's next big thing. More than adept on a 500, Abe proved to be a more than capable podium runner, finishing inside the top three 17 times in the next eleven years. Suzuka would continue to be a happy hunting ground for Abe. He went on to claim two of his three grand prix wins at the track.

Abe’s first 500cc win came at his home GP in Suzuka, 1996.

"I was lucky to have raced against Norick. We fought several times. In 2001 we fought for victory in Jerez. I have unique memories of Norick. I am indebted to him, because he contributed a lot to my enthusiasm and my motivations”.

Rossi finishes: "I was and am one of Norick's biggest fans. I still have a photo with his autograph. His race and his appearance at Suzuka in 1994 motivated me a lot. After this race, I really wanted to become a motorcycle racer". [x]

[throneofsapphics]

poly

POLY!ROWAELIN POLY!MANORIAN POLY!ELORCAN

single

AELIN ASTERIN MANON ELIDE ROWAN LORCAN GAVRIEL FENRYS DORIAN NEXT GEN

multi/mix n' match

MANON x READER x ASTERIN

think for yourself ↳ you did learn pretend* lifeline on the edge*

ASTERIN x READER x ELIDE

cinnamon

LORCAN/FENRYS/ROWAN x READER

the arrangement*

LORCAN x READER x FENRYS

track 32

AELINS COURT x READER

one more for the party

[iateyourfav]

Faster (Reprise)

Watching Tech win that race made you feel some type of way, so you show him your appreciation.

Inspired by this post by @bsxcrxts

Based on Season 2 Ep 4!

! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

Tech x Reader

Tags: nsfw, afab reader, no pronouns/gender neutral reader, aftercare

CW: face fucking, rough blowjobs, afab masturbation, handjobs (both receiving), hair pulling, slight praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, switching, orgasm control, shameless smut, bickering, Tech is LOUD

Words: 3.659

I was literally on aphrodisiacs while I wrote most of this I'm sorry

Masterlist

Read on ao3

You were quiet on the flight back to Ord Mantell. While Wrecker and Omega were sleeping in the back of the ship, tired from everything that happened on Safa Toma, you were sitting in the co-pilot seat next to Tech. You were deep in thought, trying to figure out why exactly you were feeling the way you did right now.

Something about watching Tech win that race made you feel giddy inside. It wasn’t just the concept of him winning the race itself. Everything flowed together so perfectly. The way he casually multi-tasked to study the schematics of that tunnel while engaging in a sport he literally learned about hours ago. The way he tricked those other two racers into crashing into each other. The way that it was clear that losing this race was not even an option he considered. That was probably the most attractive thing about the whole thing. The confidence in his own piloting skills.

You looked over at Tech, who was currently getting the ship ready to land. You were so deeply engaged in your own thoughts you didn’t even hear him when he announced you were almost at your destination. You felt the aftereffects of your revision of the previous events as well. Your face and ears were all hot and even goosebumps were making themselves apparent on your arms and legs. You couldn’t just move on from what you had witnessed on Safa Toma, you wanted to revel in the memory just a little bit longer. You wanted to show Tech just how much you enjoyed watching him race. 

You stayed in your seat when Omega and Wrecker left the ship, basically sprinting on their way to get some Mantell Mix. This presented you with the opportunity to stay on the ship with Tech, alone. So when you noticed him get up, intending to leave the ship as well and go after his siblings, you stopped him in his tracks by calling out his name. 

“What is it?” he asked, though you noticed most of this attention was focused on the datapad he was holding in his hands.

“Could you maybe explain to me how exactly you won that race one more time? In detail?" this caught his full intention “Why do you require an explanation? You were there to see it.” He sat back down, indicating that he was expecting this conversation to last longer. Your mind was racing, trying to decide if you wanted to be straightforward about how horny seeing him casually win that race made you or if you wanted to play innocent. You decided on the latter, for now. “I just think it would be beneficial to understand your thought process behind the whole thing.” You shrugged, trying to appear as casual as possible. He raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t question you any further.

“At first I stayed further back, seeing as I was rather unfamiliar with the route..” You leaned forward in your chair, eyes sparkling while a smile crept up on your face. You liked when he explained things to you. You could listen to him for hours, trying not to miss a single detail. So, as if the chair moved on its own, you inched closer to Tech. He noticed, though he didn’t acknowledge your action with more than a quick look at your chair as it moved closer to him. Initially, you didn’t think much about his reaction. But when you moved closer again, wanting to make sure you couldn’t possibly miss a word he was saying, he looked over again, but this time he stuttered as well, barely noticeable, but with the amount of attention you paid to him right now, you couldn’t miss it.

You managed to distract him, even unintentionally.

This revelation changed your approach to this situation. You were eager to keep listening to him explain his strategy, but at the same time you wanted to find out just how much you could distract him from his task at hand. So you moved even closer. This time his gaze lingered on the foot of the co-pilot seat for a bit before traveling up your legs, then quickly looking the other way. All while still explaining, of course.

You decided to throw caution into the wind and just keep diving head first into the situation presented before yourself, shoving thoughts of possible embarrassment, if this situation were to go wrong, to the side. You extended your right leg, slowly shuffling it towards his left. When the toes of your shoes touched, he paused his rambling about how he studied the schematics of that restricted tunnel mid-race. “What are you doing?” 

You tried to keep calm, trying to appear confident in your actions instead of as nervous as you actually felt. You could not think of a single excuse for trying to get this close to him. It seemed you had no other choice than to confess. “I just… Something about the way you won that race was captivating to me. I wanted you to explain how you went about doing that because it made me feel.. giddy inside.” The apparent blush on your face and you obviously staring at the floor to avoid eye contact destroyed any type of confidence or seduction you were trying to display. You swallowed hard before stating the next sentence. “I actually wanted to show you how much I enjoyed watching you during that race.” You dared a look at his face. Tech's eyes were locked on yours as soon as you looked back up at him, his mouth slightly agape. This was very clearly not what he expected you to say. There was an uncomfortable silence as he was thinking of a response. You don’t think you ever witnessed him having to think about something for so long. Then he put his data pad to the side, giving you his full attention.

“Do as you wish.” This was not an answer you were expecting. Your expression matched the one he had on his face earlier, eyes focused on his and lips slightly apart, dumbfounded. Tech, on the other hand, was now back to explaining those tunnel schematics as if nothing at all had happened. You took his statement as an invite to continue your advances. Though you required further communication to be able to proceed with your actions. So, not wanting to interrupt him, you raised your hand as if you were a student having questions about the ongoing lecture. He noticed this. “Yes?” he asked, eyebrows raised, not only interested in how you decided to get his attention, but also what it was you had to say. You asked your question while sinking onto your knees in front of his chair “Tell me to stop as soon as you want me to.” You looked up at him with a serious look on your face, wanting to make sure this was communicated as well as possible. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. 

Tech replied instantaneously. “Thank you for your concern, though I do not intend to stop you from anything you may have planned.” A shiver ran down your spine. He was eager for this as well. If it was not clear from this statement, it was from the way his legs shifted apart slightly, making room for you. And then he just kept on rambling, which you were glad to listen to.

Your right hand started at his calf, traveling up to his knee while your left hand landed just above his other knee simultaneously. You could feel him tense up. You were still listening to everything he said while your hands slowly made their way up his thighs. Your gaze was studying him from the top down. You broke eye contact to look at him top to bottom. Your eyes first found leverage on his chest, stomach, then his crotch. You could swear you heard a particularly loud gulp when your gaze landed where it did last. Your hands made their way towards his toolbelt, having to loosen it, at least the main buckle, to reach where you wanted to end up. You unbuckled the belt quickly before removing his codpiece. He did not once stop laying out his strategy to you, though his voice sounded coarser now.

You shuffled further between Tech's legs, your elbows resting on his knees as you undid his trousers. Then you paused. He had stopped his speech as soon as your hand reached his zipper. You looked up at him, eyes huge due to the low angle at which you were positioned. You wouldn't have noticed how much your actions were affecting him from just his voice, as it was barely disturbed before you tried to get into his pants, though a single look in his face revealed how hard he was blushing at your actions. You gave him a small smile before stating: “Keep talking.” It seemed you had now regained the upper hand in this situation. You enjoyed seeing how he reacted to you, the effect you had on him, especially considering how much it usually takes to distract him from his ramblings. 

He picked his sentence back up where he paused it earlier. „I decided weapons were slowing me down too much, so I left them behind.“ You could tell he tried to talk as casually as possible, but with the way he gripped at his chair and his eyes intensely focused on your hands, it was easy to tell just how eager he was. Not to mention how noticeably hard he was by now. Your hand brushed over his crotch, making him shiver, before reaching into his pants to pull his dick out.

He groaned at this action. He was louder than you expected, and you hadn‘t even properly started yet. Even though this sound he emitted sent a shock straight to your core, you didn‘t like how it disturbed his rambling.

“I didn‘t say you could stop explaining.“ Another groan. You knew how much he enjoyed babbling about whatever was on his mind, so it shouldn‘t have surprised you that it turned him on when someone actually wanted to hear what he had to say. 

When he started talking again you began ghosting your hand over his now fully hard cock. He shivered once more but he just kept on rambling. When you looked up at him again you noticed his eyes were now shut, most likely to help him concentrate on laying out his strategy further. A small smile formed on your face, pleased with the power you had over him right now. You started pumping him, almost as a reward, because he did so good relaying the race to you.

A whimper escaped his throat. You noticed his voice had become breathier and quieter. His eyes were still closed and his head pressed against the headrest of the pilot‘s chair, trying his hardest to keep his composure - and failing miserably. Some encouragement might help, you thought. You paused the up and down motion of your hand on his dick to speak.

“Look at me.“ His glassy eyes met yours. Your hand twisted slightly, earning you another whimper from Tech. „ You‘re doing so well explaining, and as soon as you‘re finished telling me all about that race, I‘ll reward you properly.“ He bucked his hips into your hand, accompanied by a low moan. He swallowed hard before snapping back at you. „I do not require your praise. I am fully in control of myself.“ You snorted, disregarding his statement.  „With the way your body is reacting to me, I beg to differ.“ 

This time, instead of talking back to you, he continued his explanation. You noticed he was talking notably faster now, but you let him get away with it and started pumping and twisting your hand again. 

„I-I took the l-left t-tunnel, seeing as I w-was now a-able to go f-fast enough to be a-able to make it a-across the m-missing part of the t-track.“ It took everything in Tech to form a coherent sentence in this state. „Keep going.“ you spurred him on further, studying the way his face contorted in pleasure and concentration.

You shuffled closer, leaning towards his cock. Wanting to challenge his focus even more, you puckered your lips, blowing some air on the tip. A shiver ran down his entire body and his breathing hitched. Again, he paused his debriefing. „I thought you would only intend to let me into your mouth after I finish the revision of the race.“ He was next to breathless. „Don’t be so hasty. This is only a preview to keep you motivated.“ You licked a small circle around the head of his dick to emphasize your statement. A deep, uncensored, guttural moan left his mouth. „Don‘t cum too soon, or I‘ll leave you here with nothing.“, you whispered up at him. „We will see about that.“, he responded, more bratty than did him good right now. You retracted your head, sitting straight on your heels now again, and squeezed him a little; a kind of warning to keep him in line.

You could not deny that his small attempt at gaining back dominance heated up your entire body. So, while Tech tried his hardest to finish the last portion of his explanation, you shifted your hips to rub your thighs together, hoping your attempt at trying to get some friction would go unnoticed. Your hands were still busy, with your right back to pumping him with increasing speed and your left digging into his still clothed thigh.

“…I-I fell back, l-letting the r-racers that b-boxed me in c-crash into e-eachother, allowing m-me to a-accelerate p-past them and w-win the race.“ You could feel his muscles relax after finishing his last sentence.  He opened his eyes to look down at you again. He looked desperate, almost teary-eyed. 

„You explained so well, and now I wanna reward you for it.“, you purred up at him. You lifted your hips, resting your weight on your knees. Your arms found their way to the back of your head to gather your hair so it wouldn‘t get in your way. You would have to hold it back with one hand, seeing as you were not in possession of a hair tie at the moment.

You were about to lean forward to take him into your mouth when something stopped you. Tech's much bigger hand landed on top of yours at the back of your head where you held your ponytail in place. You glanced up at him, slightly dumbfounded. „Let go. I will hold it back for you.“, he elaborated. Your attempt at nodding as a way to show acknowledgement of what he said resulted in him pulling at your hair on accident. You twitched. Tech's eyes widened, displaying concern. „I apologize. It will not happen again.“ You kind of enjoyed the sensation, though. „No. Keep doing that. Feels good.“ You removed your hand that was still in your hair from underneath his. 

Both of your elbows found leverage on his thighs once again. Your right hand gripped the base of his cock while your lips lowered onto him to kiss his tip. This triggered another whimper on his part. You felt his grip on your hair become tighter. Your eyes locked with his. He was searching for affirmation in your gaze. You smiled up at him, biting your lip as a nonverbal sign of your enjoyment. You lowered your mouth back onto him, now taking him until he hit the back of your throat. He gave you a long, deep moan this time. He pushed you down even further onto him, making you gag. Tech moaned again, seemingly enjoying the sight and feeling of you almost choking on him. He bucked his hips into your mouth once before asking: „May I take the lead now?“ You nodded as eagerly as possible with a dick this deep down your throat, giving up the last bit of control you had over him.

His grip on your hair tightened the slightest bit more before he took full control, shoving your head up and down on his dick, his hips bucking up every time his tip met the back of your throat. You gripped his upper thighs, holding on for dear life. Your core ached at the way he used you to his advantage, while he kept on groaning and moaning with every movement, you looked up at him. While all you saw on his face was passion and pleasure, he looked down at you, tears streaming down your face as a response to how he used your mouth like this was the only thing it was intended for.

You stuck your tongue out, which reached his balls every time he pushed your face towards his pelvis. His head fell back, overwhelmed with pleasure. You could barely handle the sight of him.

Your arousal had built up steadily since this whole situation started, and now you had reached the point where you couldn‘t go untouched any longer. Not wanting to interrupt Techs enjoyment with your own greedy need for bodily pleasure you slowly removed one of your hands from Techs thigh. It slowly traveled down your body until you reached your cloth-covered clit. You tried rubbing yourself through the fabric of your underwear. Thankfully, you chose to wear a skirt that day, so you at least had only one barrier between your fingers and your swollen clit tormenting you. 

You groaned in a mix of pleasure and frustration, sending vibrations down the dick still steadily ramming down your throat. This sent Tech over the edge. He gripped your hair tighter, holding your head in place as he came down your throat. You helped him through his orgasm by bobbing your head up and down ever so slightly. He pulled you off him by your hair. He looked out of breath, and when you stuck out your tongue at him, showing him you swallowed everything he had given to you, he groaned one last time before leaning down and kissing your forehead, hands still tangled in your hair.

That‘s when he saw where your second hand had gone. You had completely forgotten about your own pleasure when Tech came, the hand pressed to your core just a remnant of what you had attempted without him noticing. Now he saw exactly what you needed, though.

“I would gladly provide assistance, if you let me.“ except for heavy breathing on his side, there was no indication this man had just fucked your throat until both of you were seeing stars. You looked up at him, lips agape. You didn‘t even attempt to talk, already aware your throat was sufficiently sore at the moment, so you just eagerly nodded your head. 

He offered you a hand, as if he hadn‘t just used your throat as a sex toy, and pulled you up into his lap, your back facing his chest. His hands gripped your ankles and pulled them in towards your ass and spread your thighs by parting your knees. Your hands gripped onto his forearms for balance and security. He put his chin on your shoulder, your temple touching his goggles. He wanted to see exactly what he was working with. 

He brushed his hand over the wet spot on your underwear, exactly as you did with him earlier. He didn‘t even bother to take them off, just pushing them to the side, leaving your core flush, swollen and exposed. You shivered at the cold air of the ship hitting you at your most sensitive area. He brushed his hand over your now naked folds. „I did not expect that using you in the way I did would make you this wet.“

You moaned at his words, feeling slightly embarrassed at his wording.

Tech's fingers found your clit and began slowly tracing circles around it. This time you bucked your hips, needing more. „Don‘t be so hasty.“, he mocked your statement from earlier. His teasing didn‘t last long though, as he soon added a second finger to enhance the feeling. It didn‘t take long for you to feel your orgasm build up. You turned your face towards him, your nose pressing against his cheek as his head was still resting on your shoulder. Your lips parted slightly, whispering small, breathy moans directly into his ear. You could hear him swear before he quickened his movements, pressing down harder. Your moans increased in frequency and volume with every circle he traced until you reached your high. Back arching, thighs trembling, groaning, ignoring the ache in your throat. Your head fell back onto his shoulder. He pressed his palm flat against your clit, his hand quivering slightly, providing gentle stimulation while he helped you ride out your orgasm as his head turned to yours kissing your cheek.

You stayed like this for several minutes before you caught your breath again. He moved your underwear back into place. When he could tell you recovered from your orgasm enough to not pass out and fall over as soon as he let you go, Tech lifted you off his lap, setting you back onto the floor. You looked up at him, cheeks still stained with tears, still breathing heavily.

„You did well, and it is obvious you enjoyed this as much as I did, but I can tell your throat is sore, which needs to be taken care off quickly before it gets any worse. I will make you some tea.“ He tucked himself back into his pants and fastened his toolbelt again before getting up, walking towards a storage cabinet to get some teabags. You looked after him, still sitting on the floor next to the codpiece he had left behind, wondering how this was the same man who used your mouth as a fleshlight moments ago.