#and he really hated this fic I guess so it's probably really good

[bigbrainkatrina]

Say The Name

This is a sequel to my fic, Check the Name. But can be read as a standalone. Sans Ron, Kim is building a new Team Possible. She’s already recruited Drakken, now she has her eyes on Shego.

"You want me to WHAT?"

Kim sighs, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest to give her some warmth under the dark of the night, and eyes Shego with heaping amounts of intention. She speaks in a level tone.

"I want you to become a full time member of Team Possible. You won't get paid for any of your efforts, but none of us are and that's okay, because we're doing the right thing and the people's compensation can be better spent elsewhere. I want to you fight with us, operating off of programs and services that are solely engineered through donations and the good will of others. I want you to stand besides me day-in and day-out, sacrifice your free time by always being on-call so that you can respond to every disaster that need our assistance."

Kim gulps. Talking about mission stuff? That's easy. But personal stuff? She looks into Shego's emerald eyes and briefly considers the thing she actually wants to say to this snarky woman, this — person who despite all the murder attempts is actually quite charming. This funny lady who loves to tease Kim and never goes that hard on her. This quote-unquote enemy who's taught her an entire Bachelor's degree in survival skills. This person who is — ugh.

Family.

Kim said it to Drakken, and he told her that he always saw her as a daughter. He's part of Team Possible now, and that was surprisingly easy. So why is this so hard? Kim's mouth opens for the full load of pathos but it catches in her throat. Kim sees Shego's cold demeanor and blinks. Coughs to play off the weird lapse and returns to the herospeak. "In short: I want to save the world with you, Shego."

Shego blinks and rubs her eyes as if she just woke up from a colossal sleep.

"Ugh, Kimmie. Rhetorical. Yawn."

Kim bites her lip. She accounted for this. Obviously, Shego wouldn't take it seriously, and now she's marching over to the wall of Dementor's fortress. "Shego, please. You know we're legit. If you want to make a difference this is it. We're the most effective group there is out there."

Kim bites her lip for a second time. Actually draws a little smear of blood. Ever since Ron took off for his full-time gig with Global Justice, she's been tongue tied. Because her best friend and life partner is too busy to remember a Skype date. She doesn't hold it against him, it just means she talks to people a whole lot less than she used to.

Shego twists her head back and arches an eyebrow so high that Kim's surprised it doesn't shoot off her face and right to the tippity top of the wall Shego's about to scale up. But then again, Shego has always held expert control over her emotions. Just because Kim can't help but give every thought and feeling voice by letting them crawl onto her face doesn't mean everyone does.

Shego twirls her grapple hook in widening circles. "Since when did you start talking like an army recruiter? If I were you, I'd lay off established mercs like me and check out your high school campus."

Shego lobs the hook high, high into the air and it just makes target, crashing into a lip of the stone wall. Shego pulls on the rope and the hook doesn't move an inch. She cackles and returns to Kim. Rests a hand to her hip. "Or is that too soon for you?"

"Making fun of my age?" Kim deadpans. "Isn't that a little dry for you?"

"Yep," Shego shrugs, casually beginning her climb. "Don't really care. See, I have a big, spicy paycheck waiting for me and I don't want to be distracted from the hot vaca I'm scrounging from it."

Kim's a little relieved Shego's not looking; lets her release that anger into that eyebrow flicker. Shego would notice that after all. Since both women are intimately aware of each other's physicalities — no, not like that. They just know what to look for in the other, how to gauge their feelings. And if Shego looked back, she'd see that Kim's pretty hurt and even though Shego doesn't actually like being a big jerk (Kim and Ron's theory) and she'd say something humiliating.

Y'know, to add insult to injury. Kim's been feeling down for a while, so much so that she can't even call it a secret anymore.

So Kim makes the first dig. "I'm sure Big Daddy Brotherson gives you a lot of benefits. But more often than not, you're taking out dirty politicians and businessmen."

Shego freezes, knees wedged sideways into her gut, hair falling past her shoulders and aligning perpendicular to the ground she's now twenty feet above. Shego hesitates, but snorts off the decision and proceeds to scale the stone wall.

"Shego — " Kim groans, voice getting farther and farther away. "You don't need to be a super-villain with plasma strength to pick someone off from miles away. Please."

That one gets her.

Shego stops and runs her feet up the wall like she's going up a half-pipe, swiveling 180° so she can fully see the red head. She grabs her long raven locks and pushes them aside. "Sure, Princess. I miss the good old days. But this stuff pays, and besides — I've already saved the world once. I think I've done my time."

Shego hands there for a moment, body arched in a position that's surely uncomfortable. Kim has seconds to collect herself before this conversation is officially over.

"Shego, don't you dare try to convince me that what you're doing is good. You know what happens when you ice the CEO to a fast food chain? His son whose name probably ends in a Jr. inherits it."

Shego's eyes darken, but her mouth curls high. "Ice, Princess? You afraid to say the word kill? Or are you just upset that your stinkin' BF is doing that all the time?"

Kim's cheeks sting and she looks away.

"See," Shego drawls. "You can't even stomach that. Think about what working with me would be like. That's why I'm saying no."

"I don't think that's why you're saying no."

Shego blinks. Kim steps forward, awfully defiant. There's another weird lapse. This is the part where Kim is supposed to explain why Shego is saying no. It'll be emotional, maybe some tears, and finally these two estranged women will reconcile.

Kim mouths something indistinct then scratches the back of her head. In a low voice, she says, "Ron's not part of the team anymore. It's just me on the field and you know how everyone's been picking up the slack since Lowardia. I'm good but not that good. I might — erm — die out there and — that's not going to stop me but — a little muscle would be good."

Shego momentarily softens. She's never seen Kimmie put herself down like this. Not her best look, and certainly not the girl she used to go toe to toe with on the reg.

Also — Ron's the super-powered Big Kahuna now, huh? Super weird. She's still processing that one. Like, where's Jenna Wortham and Wesley Morris when you need them?

Shego dismisses Kim with a wave. "Nah sorry. Not convinced. Anyways, I gotta go and take care of these mutant petunias or whatever Dementor is using to take over the world this — "

"Which incidentally is my evil take over the word scheme!" a gruff voice barks through Kim's earpiece. Kim claps a hand to her face and cringes from the blown out speakers.

"Drew — " Kim swears under her breath but it's no use, Drakken's in full swing now.

"How dare he use my strategy and my smartest most refined geniusest brilliance to — "

Shego blinks. Leans as far down as she can without dropping off the wall. "...Drakken?!"

"Oh," Drakken mutters from the end of his line. "H-hello Shego."

"Yup," Shego shakes her head and finally throws her body back into proper posture for climbing. "Forget it, Princess."

Kim hoped that by the end of this conversation, she could stop clenching but now — the clenching persists. She watches Shego throw herself over the fortress wall and vanish, taking the grapple line with her. Not that Kim doesn't have one on her, but ya know — message received.

She turns on her heel and looks out at the rolling waves way down below. Even as high up as she is, little drips of seawater pelt at her face.

"Now what?" Drakken stutters.

"Plan B. I'm busting in. Not using Shego's route obviously because that'd be lame," Kim paces around the stone wall and looks for a different — better — opening.. "Hey Drew?"

"Yes, Kimberly Ann?"

"Remind me to not let you ever throw anyone a surprise birthday party."

=KP=

Despite the doom and gloom gray of Dementor's fortress, all Kim can see once she hits the arena is bright, vibrant turquoise. Turns out Dementor's mutant army of petunias are actually quite deadly, moving so fast that the green vines, no matter how thin, blur Kim's entire scope of vision. Paired with Shego's plasma bolts, it's a wonder Kim can make out anything. She doesn't want to admit it, but she's a little unnerved by it all.

Every big leagues villain retired shortly after the Lowardian Invasion. It wasn't a secret that folks, ally and enemy alike, had been scared stiff by the newly polished form of their archfoe's sidekick. No one, not even Kim, expected that from him. She still feels kind of bad about that. About doubting him. But then she reminds herself, for her own confidence, that Ron didn't earn the Mystical Monkey Power; he stumbled into it.

Kim worked herself down to the bone to get to where she is, but people are telling her she's not good enough. It's not Ron's fault. It's just — nauseating.

Meanwhile, while Kim and Ron warred through the bric-a-brac, they polished their blades and prepared for the real deal. But soon Ron moved into the Top Security Clearance world of Global Justice and it became apparent to all the mooks and rapscallions like Dementor and Monkey Fist (yes, Monty's back from the dead, it's a whole thing) that Agent Stoppable's not actually gunning for them, leaving Kim to deal with their vastly improved ilk.

Heck, not even Kim knows where Ron is today. Half the time, if not more, he's not allowed to tell her. The past few weeks, the former Dynamic Duo has been testing out the long distance gambit, but just as they found their groove in regards to frequency of texts and Skypes, Ron got bumped up another promotion and threw the whole thing off. Now it's radio silence. Either she's too overwhelmed by the escalating difficulty of her missions to consider texting Ron or he's too busy to remember they had a Skype date.

Beep-beep-de-beep!

Speak of the Devil….

"Don't you ever silence that thing?" Drakken rasps through Kim's radio.

"Uh, well the whole point of call me, beep me is the beeping part," Kim snarks, pulling her phone from the satchel tied tight around her waist. "Unlike you Drak, the texts I get are actually important."

Drakken curses under his breath; asking Kimberly Ann to organize his inbox the other day had been a mistake. After hours of sorting and deleting, all she did was sigh extraneously and say, "Drew, you should really consider unsubscribing from some of these newsletters. Like NaNoWriMo was almost a year ago, you obviously have no intentions on reading these Writers' Tips."

But that's not fair! Sure, he only got six thousand words in last NaNoWriMo, but that doesn't mean he'll never finish It Was a Tuesday! Why just the other day he wrote an experimental chapter about the time he used flashcards to remember his evil plots! And Kimberly knew that! Because she proofread it!

Heck, she even likes his writing! She's — ahem — the only one who does…. aaaaanyways, oh how she gets under his skin! Sometimes she's even worse than Shego! Words hurt you know.

But back to that incessant beep beep-de-beep. Kim crooks her elbow under her chest so that she can look at her phone in the tight air duct.

Ron [6:54PM] Awwwww, seriously? he's back from the dead. that's bananas!

Ron [6:55PM] that's a joke, feel free to use that on him

Ron [6:55PM] ya know for a guy who mutated himself into a monkey you'd think he'd be chiller about monkey jokes

Kim rolls her eyes and stuffs the phone away. Kim would happily use a Ron joke on Monkey Fist, but the two of them never quite had the rapport for linguistic ballet.

Yet despite everything, Ron could probably march in and tick Monkey Fist off like any internet troll worth their salt. Kim wonders what kind of gags Ron would go for. There's the obvious monkey jokes, but also now the zombie gags. Seeing how the old coot's risen from the dead and everything. It was Amy's doing, but Monty ditched her fast and partnered up with Dementor. Their plan has some kind of synergy between evil plants and ancient Monkey Tomes or whatever. Kim never really knows. She just sees it and punches it.

With the crazy media coverage lately, it makes sense that Monkey Fist's resurrection flew under the table, but it really is too bad that Ron can't waltz over and check it out. Maybe Kim should do some verbal sparring with the Brit for Ron's sake.

Ugh. Kim's not even here for Monkey Fist. Shego's got him on lock after all. Kim has to remember that and keep her eyes on the prize. She thinks it over. Using Ron's little joke might actually work for a strategy on how to win Shego over. Shoot. She should text Ron back before she forgets — no, she'll text after she gets Monty's reaction. That way Ron will text her back a few hours later with an emoji. Or a stinkin' el-oh-el if she's lucky.

Kim sighs in a way that would even make Eeyore concerned, and kicks open the vent. She rolls out of the steel and almost immediately regrets diving in.

It's like entering a warzone. Exhausting to track from above, on ground level her heart threatens to thump its way out of her chest. Because it's not turquoise — it's green and blue. Separate. She can't quite see Monkey Fist from here but he's surely putting up a fight, throwing out blasts that rival Shego's. The beams shimmer like flames, dancing erratically. Neither light lets up, blasting into the next beam, etching a matrix of death all around the room.

Just as Kim's about to stick her landing, a beam of blue comes out from under her. She holds back a scream and twists up, firing a grapple line back into her hidey-hole air duct, line going taut fast. She swings up, narrowly avoiding the blue but instead finds her back running against a column of green fire from Shego. She screams, but manages to hold on tight, and releases another grapple line, and swings through a safety gap in the blaze.

Kim throttles between the blasts, spiraling in the air, peeking through every gap to find something — anything — she can grapple onto, but just as she finds a straight fall to the floor there's a terrible screech that gnaws at her eardrums. One of Dementors petunias snaps up at her, bulb bigger than Kim's entire body.

Right Evil mutant plants. She totally forgot.

White teeth as long as Kim's arm, tightly knit into ugly rows along the maw, snap at her, splattering acid into the air. Kim's not fast enough and one particularly jagged tooth snags her foot and whips her through the air.

Gravity wants to throttle Kim down into the monster's gullet, but she preserves all the strength she's got and keeps herself held tall and poised no matter where the monsters whips her. At the peak of its swing, she pops one foot up and back down, crashing a boot into a tooth, knocking it free. Acid sprays from the gap in the mouth and Kim falls, slipping into the mouth. She grabs two teeth and kicks both feet into teeth opposite her, limbs searing from the momentous effort. But her weight makes short work of the creature, and it tumbles on down to the floor.

Just before it hits stone, she rolls out of the bloom and narrowly avoids a stream of green fire that the monster falls into, promptly burning down to ash. Kim finds her bearings fast, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her head hurts more than it should and she decides she's probably poisoned. She quickly radios to Drakken, asking him to scan her vitals while she works. Another petunia lashes at her, but Kim's ahead of this one and grabs the roof and floor of its mouth, cracking her arms far apart to keep the mouth splayed open. She pushes hard, already short sleeves rolling into her shoulders. She raises her feet and dropkicks the horrid beastie in the mouth and it bends under her.

Kim hits the floor at a roll and finally catches sight of Shego and playfully waves to her. Shego's eyes widen because seriously? Kim what the heck. Or fuck. What the fuck is more Shego's speed.

Ever since the Lowardians, big guns got drawn and people, including Shego apparently, like to think that means Kim isn't up to par anymore.

Well, not quite. Check the name.

Kim snaps back into action, somersaulting back, just as another rogue petunia dives at her. But she's got the leverage to launch herself above him, and she grabs its wiry stem like she's at the gym, twirling a full 360° before coming back down with a stomp that's the equivalent of crushing someone's windpipe. It whimpers before falling fully slack.

Two more come. She leaps and throws her legs into a full split, cracking one of the creature's maws wide enough to keep her safe. Meanwhile, her arms grab onto one of the other creature's teeth, yanking down on it like Quasimodo does every morning in Paris.

The tooth snaps free and the creatures roars, tumbling to the ground. Kim slips the jagged thing under her arm and twists her body like a pretzel, grabbing the petunia holding her by its tooth and — CRACK!

The first petunia thumps off the floor, and Kim lands between the slain beasties, stabbing both through the heads, grinning at Shego like a mischievous kid might.

"Princess, hey, you need to — "

"Hold that thought!"

Kim leaps into the air again, twirling like a helicopter, the twin teeth whirling around her and catching yet another petunia in both sides of its gaping mouth. But Kim doesn't stop there. She keeps spinning and the teeth cleave right through the jaw, decapitating the monster. Kim hits the ground, coated in plant mucus, but she's not quite through yet.

"Five o'clock!" Kim shouts and Shego ducks, one of the teeth launching over her head like a javelin and nailing the final petunia in the face. It bursts into acid and splatters across the floor.

Kim brushes the hair from her eyes and shoots another winning grin at Shego. But that grin quickly becomes a grimace as Kim is suddenly thankful for all the fencing classes she took. Bolts of blue fly at her. Kim swings the tooth up and down, deflecting the bolts as they just graze her. But the blue is too fast for any human, even her, and after ten volleys one bops the tooth from her hands, knocking it into the air and yards behind her.

A fist as big as her head materializes in the air and goes for broke, angled just right to pop her skull open. But Kim's got something else in mind.

"Wow, it's really bananas that you're back from the dead, Monty."

The flaming fist stops right before her face. Quickly, the blue light coagulates into a tangible form before her. Monkey Fist sweeps a scoop-shaped thumb across his long nose and sneers at her. He's evolved a bit since she last saw him. Hair is a bit more wild, muscles a bit more trained, and his eyes empty blue fire from his sockets. He's flanked by a blue aura, but it's nowhere near as crisp and clean as Ron's.

"What — did — you — say?" Monkey Fist hisses.

Kim bites her lip and tries not to giggle out of anxiety. "I — said — it's — bananas — that — "

"OOOOOOOOOOOH!" Monkey Fist whistles like a train, big honkin' feet stamping against the ground like a child's. The fire fades and Kim can see the long sloped lines of his distorted face. "That makes me so mad!"

But before the gentleman can throw a rather uncordial tantrum, one of Shego's plasma bolts knocks him upside the head and blasts him across the width of the entire room and into a wall, where stone bricks avalanche onto him in heaps.

When the dust fades, Kim sees Shego staring at her with the coldest expression the mercenary's ever flashed, fists rolled so tight that they shake, wedged into her hips.

"Bananas?! That's the best you had? You just risked your life to say Wow Monkey Fist, it's really bananas that you're back from the dead?!"

Kim frowns and scoops her phone out, quickly showing the screen to the green woman. "Ron told me to say it. Speaking of…." She dives back into the text thread to fire off a —

Kim [6:58PM] Good one. That really got him going.

— before emerald fire surrounds Kim from all over, crafting a tunnel leading out to the exit, archways burning all the way out. Before Kim can jump to Shego's side, a wall blisters the floor between them and separates the two.

"Out! Now!" Shego screams, flames so dense Kim can't even see her.

"Huh? No way!" Kim pouts. "This is my turf as much as it is yours!"

"No it's not! This is my gig, like I get a bounty for stopping them! You don't so stay out of it!"

Kim shuts her eyes and forces it from throat even though she really does not want to air this.

"Shego, stop yelling at me, please. Why can't we just be friends?"

That hangs in the air for a little longer than either is comfortable with. Kim's cheeks burn red and she continues, "Shego, I'm serious — I like you. Like really, really like you. You're funny and tough and smart and I always had fun sparring with you and I think it'd be good for the two of us if we started working together."

An imprint of Shego's body sinks into the wall, just enough for the grimace to set itself nice and strong. Though the neon light does make Kim's eyes water, so she tries not to look for too long.

"We were not sparring," Shego grunts. "Maybe you were — you've never been that responsible. You're lucky Doc's so dense or maybe we would have taken over the world."

The outline of the mouth moves but it's hard to say in which direction; but it's okay. You don't need nonverbal cues from Shego to get where she's at.

The flames flare towards the tunnel and Kim has to firmly plant her boots down to not be swayed. But she's bleeding from the toes because of the planets and that poison is doing god knows what to her body. She can't hold on much longer.

"I wouldn't resist if I were you," Shego taunts. "Could easily break a bone trying for the immovable object gambit."

"You wouldn't," Kim sneers. "They were spars. You've never tried to hurt me. But other people do. Every day. And if you don't want to be my friend, fine. But still join up. Some back-up would be great, or else Monty might whip me into a Kimmie Frappé."

Kim slips. One heel flies up and the other follows. She flails her arms but it's no good. She gets one last look at Shego before being throttled.

"Puh-lease, Princess. You don't need little ol' me, do you? I thought you could do anything!"

She's airborne and not even sure if Shego can hear her, and it's hard to talk with the wind blasting down her throat, choking her. But she says something because it's important. It comes out as a croak and Shego does hear it, two flares arch up just slightly at the words:

"You know that's not true anymore."

A bellow of air jams its way down her throat and another swing nails her in the nut. She flies back and somehow miraculously lands on her feet, just outside the fortress. Not from any effort of her own. She cracks her head up and watches the flames give way to ash and frowns. Shego is — powerful. It's a little unnerving.

Why is everyone just now deciding that they can outclass her?

Kim blinks back something that might be tears and grinds her knuckle against the dirt. "Dammit."

"Sorry to eavesdrop, but you know I can't resist the hot goss," Drakken says stoically through the earpiece. "You need a different approach, pathos won't work on Shego. Or at least — erm — words. Good at using them, not so much listening."

Kim finds the embarrassing tears and crushes them with the back of her glove, forearm rising to wipe off the sweat and goop. "I can do this right?"

"What? Recruit Shego or defeat the evil plant army that's MY idea and so poorly implemented by Demenz and —"

"Drew. Focus."

"Mm."

"I'm talking about Shego. Is it worth trying? I think I got poisoned earlier and I don't know if it's a good idea for me to…."

"You are poisoned. I didn't want to tell you because you were working, but…."

Kim's posture droops. "Great."

"Kimberly Ann, I hate to be a Negative Nancy but this is poor strategy. You're not going to impress Shego by beating people up. Nor will you words. Maybe, if you can get back in there before she — erm — after whatever it is that she does to her 'targets' — perhaps I can Dr. Phil for you two."

Kim raises an eyebrow. "Dr. Phil?"

"Don't tell me you don't know Dr. Phil!"

"Uh — tell me you don't still watch cable television."

"What? People don't watch — what do they watch then?"

"It's streaming platforms all the way, Doctor D."

=KP=

The next scene is just as much of a warzone as the left, but this time Kim's poisoned.

No blue lights this time at least, just plants. But more plants than ever. Vines and stems everywhere, wriggling and writhing with the occasional flash of plasma bleeding through. Kim can hear Dementor yucking up a storm about — something. She's not sure what could possibly be funny given that Shego is schooling his army of plants. Like yes, she's outnumbered but — oooooooh.

It's because resistance is futile. They're not just plants, they're infinite. Like a hydra. Whatever Dementor's doomsday machine is probably has the ability to respawn them lickity split. But Shego's more crash crash boom than nuance. She probably doesn't connect Dementor's laughter to anything other than a personality defect of his. That being he is very annoying, which is true.

Kim narrows her eyes and sees a massive, whirring machine in the back of the throne room. The stones have been stripped from the floor, giving the gadget ample amount of dirt and soil to work with, and if Kim squints, she can see small hints of green tailing under the metal panels. So that's her target.

No matter how depressed the idea makes her, she has to suck it up. Because she is Kim Possible and she actually can do anything. Long as she doesn't overthink things. So she strains her cheeks and forces that grin. It sort of helps. Just a tad.

Ron would want her to smile. She would too.

There's a creak from below and Kim peers down to see the furry head of Monkey Fist passively entering the room. He stands before the whirring mass of green and takes in a deep breath. Big fists start to glow blue and from where Shego's standing, there's no way she can see him. Too much overlap of color.

Meaning like it or not, it's showtime. Kim has to save Shego.

Kim drops down from above, ramming her hands into the back of Monkey Fist's neck, cracking his chin deep into his chest. While he hunches over, she rolls off his back and lands in a sprawled out Look at me! kind of position.

It's a move that yadda yadda won the cheerleaders oy old jokes, yeah?

"KIM POSSIBLE!" Monkey Fist shrieks with such volume that his jowls are set a-quiverin'. He pounds his chest and launches at her. His fists cut through the air, leaving behind burning trails of blue that linger for a few extra seconds before dissipating. Kim backsteps fast, just managing to avoid each swing. She's not stressed because she's smiling, and that jubiliance makes it all look easy.

"Quit monkeying around, Monty," Kim snarks. "I don't have all day."

Monkey Fist's forehead throbs with rage and it's a wonder he was ever even capable of tolerating Ron's loudmouth, considering how bad Kim's jokes are. Get a real punny buy in the room and Monkey Fist would probably have a heart attack. But it's 'kay, Kim'll settle for the undying rage. His fists pick up the pace and while the blue trails don't linger in the air as long now, the swaths of power glow darker.

Kim somersaults back to avoid one particular devastating swing, legs almost snapping out from under her upon landing. She opens her mouth for some other joke, she's actually not quite sure what she'll say yet and it ultimately doesn't matter because Monkey Fist's knuckle cleaves into her jaw. Her whole body shoots up like the bell in a strongman game, another fist coming from above, fist splintering into her eye.

She falls back, now brandishing an impressive shiner. "Nice trick," she spits a gob of blood to the floor. "But I don't think any of the audience members at the circus would laugh at it."

"Eh, that one's a stretch, methinks," Monkey Fist chortles, grabbing her by the scruff of the tunic and lifting her into the air. Things slow down, mostly from Shego's now divided attention; yes, she noticed. She stands as still as a statue, glowing hands only occasionally flying out to smack a rogue plant away.

"You won't harm another hair on her head, Monty," Shego growls.

"Ha, as the youth say: As if," Monkey Fist laughs and though one of his hands is still free, it's an invisible one that throttles by at the throat, knocking her whole body into the air. Her body weighs against the neck, stretching the tendons farther than they should ever go, bone preparing itself to crack. "You'll do nothing to me you welp."

Kim feels the blood rush to her head, but another crack! and the invisible hand whips her to the ground. She hits the ground. Hard. Rolls several feet, shoulder smashing against her collarbone.

Monkey Fist's big square teeth grind against each other. "Nobody makes a fool out of me."

Kim doesn't need to look to know that she's standing between Monty and the doomsday machine. All she needs is to let the show go on. She cranes her neck up even though doing so causes blistering pain. "Don't you mean make a monkey out of me?"

Kim doesn't even get to appreciate the villain's resulting beet red face because an all-consuming blast of blue masks everything. But she does feel a burning in each and every one of her joints, body shooting high into the air and arching into a spiral. She flies far and just as the white floor rushes up to crash into her nose — she feels something tight squeeze into her, body accordioning into itself from whiplash.

Shego slides a hand to the small of Kim's back and leans her up from the teeter totter angle and their noses briefly brush against each other before Kim gently falls onto the floor. A dome of green fire materializes around them, the burning embers overtaking what sounds like an argument rumbling between the two partnered villains —

"Monty, you almost scorched mein evil plant army! Careful!"

"But — but — she called me a monkey!"

— but no more after that, too much going on, like she's in a different room. "These powers are kinda new," Kim drawls.

Shego rolls her eyes. "It's not, I just didn't need to tap into this kind of power back in the old days. Now everyone's going nuts and — "

"You mean going ape," Kim sits back up. "I — "

"No, you're benched, Possible," Shego growls, eyes lingering on Kim's bruised eye longer than usual. "I cannot fight delusional powerhouses like these fools when I have to keep one eye on you to make sure you don't get clobbered. You're out of your league. Go back to babysitting, I don't know what else to tell you."

Kim tries to protest, but the words sputter out and don't mean anything. Not even worth transcribing.

"You are dying, Kim," Shego says without glancing over her shoulder. "We're never going to be friends. So give up. Move on. You're a great kid but — show's over. I'm not burying you."

Kim is too stunned for words, and squints away more tears when Shego dashes off right quick, passing through the flames like it's nothing. Kim's outstretched hand gently closes in on itself the arm retracts back to her torso. A dramatic gesture maybe intended to make her sudden loneliness feel a bit more valid, but instead she just feels feeble. But Kim is not feeble. She's anything but feeble, and she needs to get back in the ring ASAP.

Even if it kills her. But it won't.

With no time to waste, Kim crosses her fingers that Shego isn't actually trying that much harder, and rolls forward. The flames lick her from all over and — oh, so that's what a ten on the pain scale looks like. This is worse than Monty's magic, but is torture, literal torture. She can't think straight, can't process anything else. Her ears ring and when the cold air of the castle room crosses through her, she vaguely sees a yellow blob. It's — keening? Scared — eyes dilated to the extreme, uvula flying like a pendulum.

The green flames pass in front of her and the white hot numbness returns — she kicks Dementor upside the head and conks him out, throwing her body to the ground and rolling against the floor. It takes longer than she'd like but it does the work and kills the fire.

She checks on Shego, cringing and screaming from the pain bubbling all over, and finds Shego going toe-to-toe with Monkey Fist, while also dealing with — no — fending off — the plant monstrosities. Against either party, she'd fare fine, but these are two titans to reckon with. Kim checks the machine puppet mastering the whole plant army and it's definitely too big and too complicated to take out — unless….unless she turns back to Monkey Fist and cups her hands to her mouth and shouts —

"Hey Monty!"

Monkey Fist blinks and he lazily sucker punches Shego to the ground, briefly smiling at the blue light crackling between each of his hairy digits. When he looks up though, he is immediately flabbergasted. "KIM POSSIBLE?!"

"Geez Monty, are you new to this?" Shego rubs the golf-ball sized bump on her head. "Coming back from the dead is kind of her whole bag."

There's a bit of a sneer in that and Kim shrinks a little bit at Shego's glowering, but the green woman is quickly overcome by a renewed army of plants that tear out from the floor beneath her, shoving away the brick and mortar, to drag her deep into the soil. Monkey Fist laughs through his nose and stomps across the hall to Kim.

Kim could easily tick him off all the way from over here, but she's already kind of learned her lesson that maybe getting him to chipshot this isn't such a grand idea. Close-range all the way if we're talking Mystical Monkey Mayhem.

So Kim motions for him to come closer and throws on the appearance of a shout, but really it's a wide-mouthed whisper.

"Do you have any nieces?"

Monkey Fist blinks. "What? Erm. I — " he draws closer. "I didn't quite get that."

"Do you have any nieces?"

He blinks again and lifts a paw to his freakishly large ear, letting it guide him across the floor. "Kim Possible, please speak up. We are in the middle of battle, after all."

She repeats it. But quieter. "Do you have any nieces?"

He shakes his head. "Is this some sort of bit?" He growls and jumps onto all fours, prancing right on up to her, lifting himself back to his full height with fists wedged against his hips. "I am not in the mood for a bit."

"Not a bit," she shrugs, stepping backwards. He doesn't consciously think to follow her, but he does it anyways. "I was asking if you have any nieces."

"Hrm," Monkey Fist scratches his square chin. "Not by blood — though I suppose Bates had a kid a few years back, I suppose I could count their kin as my nephew."

Kim nods, and while she doesn't think her joke is actually that funny, she smiles so wide it hurts. Especially considering the pain. But this is what Kim Possible does. This is how she saves the world. She chuckles between words like a lovable stand-up. "Is your kin by chance — a monkey?"

"What?" Monkey Fist drapes a hand over his head to better itch his forehead. "I don't — understand — monkey?"

"Why you'd be a monkey's uncle then!"

If only there were a little monkey sidekick there to smash some cymbals together, that'd be great. But the joke lands anyways and Monkey Fist goes so red this time his aura actually twists into a sickly violet.

"OOOOOOOOOH!" he screams and lunges at her, waves of power emanating from his fists; this is strength he doesn't even know. Otherwise he wouldn't be getting so up close and personal about this. But his fists lash out like an excited kid playing whack-a-mole and it sets Kim at a fast enough pace that's she actually a little worried about running backwards so quickly.

One particularly devastating kick flies up like Charlie Brown screwing up and eating dirt instead of football, and Kim has to somersault back to avoid it. She lands on top of the doomsday machine with all four limbs splayed out, taking on the sort of stance that's more Ron's scene. Monkey Fist's kick lodges itself directly into the metal and sparks fly.

Kim laughs and quickly kicks off her boots, letting her bare feet hook toes around loose nuts and bolts to better hold her balance. She then looks straight down at Monkey Fist and giggles, "Well look at that! Monkey see, monkey do, huh?"

Monkey Fist screams and flips upwards, somersaulting up the metal after her. She flips back, landing on top of the machine just as Monkey Fist shoots over her, momentarily gripping the bricks in the wall so that he can better direct a dropkick onto her person. But no magical aura this time, just pure monkey.

Kim blanks.

She wants to make a cheerleading joke because those are honestly some stellar flips — and she's been thinking of replacing some people on Harvard's cheer team (yes, two months in and she's already captain). But she knows she should stick to monkey gags and then Monkey Fist's two bare feet slam her in the chest, big and wide enough to dig into her whole form and she falls clean off the machine and hits the ground.

Before she can even get up, Monkey Fist is before her. He lifts her by the front of her tunic and smashes her body up against the machine and flashes a smirk so gnarled that it fully exposes one of his deadly canines. "You thought you could fool me, Kim Possible?! Ha! You act as if I am a rank amateur! Perhaps if you were my hated arch-foe, Ron Stoppable, you'd be more clever with your jokes but I, I am an educated man who comes with wealth, prestige, and a Master's in Primatology from Oxford! You will never be smarter than me, nor will you ever be stronger."

Monkey Fist gives her the once over. Bleeding foot, black eyes, scratched up all over, crazy burns….but not quite enough for his tastes so he punches her in the face, almost hard enough to knock her loose, but his grip is too tight for that.

"Looks like I win!" he chortles.

Kim tries as hard as she can to resist the burn in her neck and looks up, though it appears like her head's balancing on a slinky. "What's your damage with Ron, Monty? It's like he's a chimp on your shoulder."

Monkey Fist blinks and grinds Kim deeper into the metal. "The boy is not a chip on my shoulder — for I am the all-powerful…."

"Ah," Kim crawls, sliding her hands up against her face. "Monkey see no pun, monkey hear no pun…."

"Wh-what?" Monkey Fist sputters. "Pun — what?"

Kim's face falls. "Hello? Chimp on your shoulder?"

Monkey Fist blinks. Ties together a few stray thoughts and screams at the top of his lungs, darting in for the kill but Kim's legs roll up into his stomach and swing up and over, smashing him against the machine. She hits the ground first and he stumbles after her, sparks beginning to spiral around him.

"You think you'll get me to destroy my own machine, Possible? Don't be ridiculous."

Monkey Fist draws closer. Kim checks for Shego to make sure she's hanging in there — and she's not. There's just too many monsters for her take on at once. Maybe she's still thrashing, but it's a dogpile to overcome.

Kim crouches down, mostly from her draining energy, and glares ahead. "Monty, do you know where Ron Stoppable is?"

Monkey Fist snorts, so Kim fills in the blanks. "He's taking down terrorists of whom you don't even know, of whom I don't even know, because my security clearance isn't that high. See, Ron only takes on the A-Level."

"Tsch," he flashes his canines again. "I am a solid A. They'll all see that soon."

Kim steadily backs away, bare heel sliding against the rim of stone. She stays there and Monkey Fist's big feet steadily sink into the soil, the sparks still alive. His whole frame quavers with raw power and she grins.

"No, they won't. Because you're B-Level. These guys Ron takes out? They're serious. They're organized. They don't throw temper tantrums at bad jokes."

Something in Monkey Fist stifles and she's knows it's getting to him. If even just a little. But this isn't enough so she keeps pushing.

"Well," he leans in as if balancing on a cane. "I have superpowers. Surely, that bumps me up. I'm just — insecure — is all."

"Mm," she bites her lip and widens her tance. Any second he might blast her. But he's not mature enough for that. "Yeah, it's the only thing keeping you from the D-List. You have powers. I do too. It's why I'm a B-Lister."

"You," he snorts. "You have powers?"

"Yes, it's called never giving up."

"I don't think that constitutes for much," the sparks redirect around him, slowly angling themselves to rip from his muscles where they have a better vantage point to obliterate the teenager. "I hit you one more time and you're out for good, Kim Possible. So choose your next words wisely."

"Okay — a promise then. I'm not gonna lay a finger on you and still take you out. You'll go to jail but don't worry Monty: I'm B-Squad, I don't stand a chance against you. So we won't fight, but you will lose, and when they haul you off, you're going to look me in the eye and despite all the power you've smacked me with, I'm going to smile."

"Oh," he mock shudders. "I'll make sure you don't smile."

"Tsch." Kim tries not to ler her eyes linger on the sparks licking the soil. She tries to brace herself for something incredibly painful. "You know I heard that monkeys can get time shaved off their sentences if they volunteer to be shot into space."

Monkey Fist roars (predictable) and the sparks flare up, slicing into the soil and with that — every single root protruding from the machine, all burned off in one fell swoop. Kim hears the terrible, inhuman death calls disturb and splinter her ears, each bulb crashing to the ground like a fallen tree. But the sparks swirl together and rush at Kim in a haze and even in her most peak physical condition — no mortal can withstand that.

But she can yadda yadda do anything whatever. You get it.

The blue light cascades at her and Monkey Fist cackles with laughter — that is until his sparks not only kill the plants, but travel up the stems like dynamite fuses, all the way back to the machine they spawned from and — well — ka-boom. An earth shattering ka-boom.

The machine blasts apart and the resulting explosion nails Monkey Fist in the back.

So it's the two of them that go soaring, one after the other. Kim, scorched to a crisp, hits the floor first. Monkey Fist lands besides her and despite all the Mystical Monkey Power resting in him, Kim is the one that's still conscious.

She can't hear a damned thing, but there's a white shadow with triangular dimensions hovering above her face, chastising her over….something obvious probably. Their voice is harsh but it's the touch that betrays them, the way her finger so gently scoops Kim's face upwards. Twin green lights plume in the air and Kim realizes that it's Shego.

"Hi," Kim rasps.

"Kimmie…" Shego stutters. She must have just said a lot and Kim almost feels sorry she missed it, but that intense Kimmie kinda collectivizes it all together pretty well.

"I know," Kim coughs. "But now you know you don't have to worry about me on the field."

Kim's limp wrist doesn't support that claim, nor her watering eyes. "But you don't really care about that right? You trust me enough. You're just scared of being my friend, right?"

It catches in Kim's throat when Shego lifts Kim up and slings her chin over her shoulder, face burying deep into Kim's shoulder.

"I'm not scared," Shego mutters, her voice like crystals. "I don't know how I feel."

Kim looks at her very seriously. "Shego — I'm sorry I was mean about you being a hit-man now. But you don't have to do that work. I don't know what damage you carry and you don't have to tell me but I want you to take this seriously. Please. Please please please. Work with me, Drakken, and Wade. We're not just going to save the world, we're going to have fun."

Shego's jaw lowers because she's obviously not used to someone asking her that. It dangles long before she finds something typical of her personality to use as a retort, but it's just not there, so she wipes her eyes. "I can't believe you committed that hard to the monkey bit. Honestly though, you peaked really early in. Like seriously Princess, it's called a tight-five for a second."

Kim laughs way harder than she should and it's embarrassing, but it's okay because it's been one of those missions.

A man in a blue coat click-clacks into the battlefield, notebook in hand. Green fire erupts in Shego's eyes and she shoves Kimie off. "What do you want, Doc?!"

"Oh, I," Drakken bites his lip and checks the room. "Good — good job here. Erm. I'm going to Dr. Phil for you two so you can get through this conundrum."

"Ew, Doc. Dr. Phil?" Shego raises an eyebrow.

Kim whispers in Shego's ear. "Drakken doesn't know about streaming platforms."

Shego's eyebrow goes even higher. "Not even Netflix?"

Drakken's dry lips find themselves suddenly incapable. He just stands there.

"Also read the room, Drew," Kim coughed. "Me and Shego made up. She's part of the team, and tonight we're gonna introduce you to online serialized television!"

"But I — "

"Do you have an account?" Shego asks Kim seriously, who shakes her head in response. "Well, since we're doing you a solid, Doctor D, you'll be paying the subscription fees."

"Sub-subscription?"

Kim grins. "Monthly."

He looks between the two of them. "Is it too late for me to change my vote to No, let's not invite Shego?"

Kim and Shego say it together. "Objection sustained."

[passthroughtime]

yagami, WHY do you have to be such a bitch around kuwana. i'm going to strangle you.

(P.S.: he didn't tell kuwana that tesso said not to feel bad about it. obviously.)

[starbuck]

okay so maybe it was a little groundbreaking. maybe it’s slightly iconic. shut the fuck up.

[todayisafridaynight]

OH about the finale at the shrine, this completely slipped my notice when we were talking about it, but Ichi says he's "reporting" Jo's verdict to both Arakawa and Masato. It's just not translated that way.

Not too big of a difference (well, it is to me, but I'm insane), but if it was highlighting anything, I'd guess it's probably Masato's change of heart. It would've been fair for Ichi to assume Masato wouldn't care and only "report" to Arakawa, but in the context of Ichi doing his damnedest to show Masato they all love him, it works in terms of, "Maybe I made him reconsider, and maybe now he would care."

Also... I'm looking at it in a "measured" way, since the chapter trophies are always just standard "Nth Chapter Cleared" messages that the localization team just spices up for us, but there's something I find really poignant about the Chapter 13 trophy being worded as "Fate of Our Fathers." The pluralization of both the noun and pronoun. Realizations that come too late.

Of course, Masato definitely didn't "know" and had no real reason to suspect it, but the Arakawas have this bizarre subconscious almost-psychic link. So even if he doesn't really think so, there's this sense that Ichi "might as well" be Arakawa's "real" son because they're so much more alike. And maaaybe he felt that way about Jo and himself at one point, because (as we've discussed) there has to be a reason Jo was Masato's "favorite."

[Follow up to this ask]

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

girl i love your shut up mom and career day fic so much!!!!!! i was wondering if you can do something similar to bothh? no pressure if you dont wanna!

Baby's first words

Tags: fluff, crack, jjk men as dads x fem!reader, angst on Nanami's!!!

Synopsis: You and your husband have been trying to get your child to say their first words. Chaos ensues.

An: I hope this is close enough to what you were requesting!! I really couldn't think of much more. Also, I want to point out that I completely forgot that Todo's first name is Aoi. I want to clarify that it is completely unrelated to your baby's name with Satoru lol.

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

"Alright Aoi, say da-da, and I'll give you this yummy scoop of baby food." Your husband coaxes as he holds out a spoonful of baby food just out of your small baby's reach.

"Stop bribing our kid to say dada." You giggle as you walk up to your adorable baby sat in his high chair. You fluffed Satoru's hair affectionately with your hand. These were the moments that made life worth living.

"Hmph. I want dada to be his first word. Wouldn't that be so cool?" He asks with a small pout as he coaxes your baby's attention again with the spoon. "C'mon Aoi, da-da." He sounds out the word phonetically to try to teach Aoi.

However, your pretty blue-eyed baby looked up at you with the brightest smile. "Mama!" Aoi cried as he made grabby hands for you.

Yours and Satoru's mouths completely dropped. While you immediately started laughing and picking up Aoi out of the highchair to snuggle your baby, your husband just looked at you with a bittersweet pout. He wanted to be y'all's baby's first words, but it was worth it to see your reaction to Aoi saying mama.

"That's right, baby. Mama." You encourage, smooching him on his chubby little cheek.

"Alright, I get it kid. I'd say mama to get a kiss too." Satoru laughs as he holds out his cheek towards you with a playful grin.

Jokingly rolling your eyes, you press a kiss to Satoru's cheek too.

SUGURU

"Alright girls, can you say da-da?" You said to the two young twin girls in their highchairs. You pointed to Geto as he stood next to you.

"They're too young to be talking, darling." He muses as he looks at your twin girls.

"But they're not too young to learn. Don't act like you don't want to hear them say dada." You poke Geto in his side, causing for him to let out a hearty chuckle.

"I want to keep them as young for as long as possible. Watching them grow up is going to send me into an early retirement." He says as he lovingly rubs on your back.

A doorbell sounding throughout the house caused your husband to sigh deeply. He hated being pulled away from these moments with you and the girls.

"Were you expecting someone?" You curiously ask.

"No, it's probably just one of those filthy monkeys again." He gripes as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Dada!" Mimiko shouts with a giggle, garnering both your attentions.

"You really have to stop saying that in front of the girls." You chide as Geto picks up Mimiko from her highchair.

"My sweet girl." He grins at the baby in his hands and blows a raspberry on her cheek.

The doorbell rings again, and you sigh this time. "I guess I'll go get it." You say as you start to walk away.

"M-m... ma..ma.." Nanako quietly whimpered as your presence left the room.

"Oh, it's okay, little one. She'll be back." Geto soothes as he picks his other daughter up with his other arm. What's the purpose of having two arms if you couldn't snuggle both your twin daughters at the same time?

After scaring off a salesman, you return to the heartwarming sight.

"You missed it, darling. Nanako said mama." Geto informs you with a proud smile.

"I always miss the good parts!" You complain as you scoop Nanako up out of Geto's arms. "I hope they stay this little forever."

"Me too."

TOJI

"Okay Gumi, can you say ma-ma?" You say as you're staring with a bright smile at your flat expression baby. He honestly looks like he might be judging you for even insinuating that he'd say mama.

"Okay, tough crowd." You muse as you hand Megumi one of his toys for him to play with.

You have been trying to teach him how to say mama for the past month or so, but he hasn't really said much of anything. He'll babble sometimes, but it's rare.

You were concerned about his mental and social development, but his pediatrician assured you that there was nothing wrong with little Megumi.

"He just doesn't want to talk yet." The doctor informed you with a lighthearted laugh.

It was semi-funny, but you couldn't help and compare with other moms. You knew it was wrong and every baby developed at their own rate, but you really just wanted to hear your baby's sweet voice.

Toji walks in through the front door immediately kicking his shoes off. "No one touch me. I'm covered in blood." He grunts as he tries his best to maneuver and not spread the blood everywhere.

Given his job, you were already use to this. "It's not yours, right?" You ask as you look up at him.

"Course not, babe. What do you take me for? An amateur?" He asks with a cocky grin.

Megumi looks up from his highchair, and his eyes immediately go as big as saucers upon seeing his dad walk in through the door. "Papa!" He immediately cries out, making grabby hands towards Toji.

You stare at your son in disbelief. "You little traitor!" You whine, but you also feel the relief pool into you. Your baby really just didn't want to talk to you, but that's fine.

"Ahh you little shit. You would do this when I can't pick you up. Your mama will kill me if I get blood on you." He grins as he carefully pats Megumi's hair with a clean hand.

"Damn right. Go shower." You instruct with a small grin.

"Yes mam." He retorts playfully as he shot you a little wink.

SUKUNA

"Okay Ryu, say ma-ma." You say to your little pink-haired baby as he's looking at you from his high chair.

"That's so amateur. He's the son of the king." Sukuna says as he pulls up a chair and sits backwards in it, facing y'all's baby. "Say dismantle." He grins wildly, and your sweet baby just giggles at him.

"You dare laugh in the face of a king, hm?" Sukuna asks as he playfully narrows his eyes. Despite how scary he was trying to seem, Ryu just kept smiling at him and giggling.

"Stop trying to get our baby to say cursed techniques." You chide your husband while shaking your head.

"Fine. Say Satoru Gojo's a bitch."

"Ryomen!"

"What!?" Sukuna shouts defensively. "I'll never forgive that white-haired bastard for teaching his kid to say 'kuna sucks'." You quietly laugh remembering that random video that was sent to you two.

In their older age, Sukuna and Satoru had settled on having a baby race. Constantly filming their baby's milestones and gloating to the other.

Sukuna had practically cheered whenever little Ryu was eating more solid foods than Gojo's kid was.

"D...d.." Ryu babbles and tries to get his syllables right.

"Woman. Get your phone machine out. He's going to cast his first domain." Sukuna says as he's immediately grabbing onto your arm.

"Sukuna, for the last time. It's just called a phone, and he's not going to cast a domain." You say as you start recording your little baby Ryu.

"Da..da... dada." Your son babbles out reaching up towards his dad.

Sukuna's face slightly drops, but it wasn't to one of sadness. No, he felt surprised. His son was reaching to him, calling for him. To most people, he was the King of Curses, but to little Ryu, he was simply dada.

Your husband scoops your son into his arms, hugging him lovingly. "I'll let you slide just this once. Next time you'll cast a domain." He says playfully while cradling his son in his arms.

Later, you would get a text from Gojo after sending him that video.

Gojo: Cute kid. Sukuna looks happy. Fucker is finally softening in his prehistoric age.

NANAMI

"Say da-da..." Your voice plays over Nanami's phone as he watches the video you just sent him of you teaching Hana how to say her first words.

"Dada!" Hana yells with a cheerful smile while clapping her little hands together.

Your husband smiles, missing you two dearly right now. It feels like his heart lives outside his chest. If he could afford it, he'd go home and snuggle with you two.

Yn: Stay safe out there, Ken. Please.

He promptly texts back, promising that he'll be back home before you know it. Though, something about the air in Shibuya tonight gave Nanami second guesses about that.

He could leave. He could leave right now and return home to you and his daughter, but his students and his peers need him.

Yn: The power's out here, Ken. Is everything alright?

Yn: Jesus I can hear the explosions from here...

Yn: Please tell me that you're safe...

Yn: Hana and I are evacuating. I love you. Please text me as soon as you can.

Yn: You fuckig promised... you liedd to me.

Yn: What do I tell Hana every time she says dada?

[sunnie-angel]

week 2 (oct. 11) | overstimulation

✮⋆˙ lay all your love on me (3k)

jason needs to come. a lot. what's a good partner supposed to do but give him a helping orgasm? or two? or three?

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, groping, dirty talk, cum play, slight objectification, hand job, begging, crying during sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

a/n: working title was "jerking him off until he cries". @sanguineterrain at last the handjob fic i promised you

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

Jason Todd enjoys being the little spoon. It takes a weight off of his shoulders to curl up into you, have your chin hooked over his shoulder, and just trustingly melt. He’d been a little hesitant the first time you’d suggested it, sure that because of his size this wasn’t wanted from him. But after that first afternoon he’d leaned in a little more eagerly each time. Looked at you real sweet as he’d hemmed and hawed his way around asking if you two could cuddle again. Innocent, hoping for nothing more than a little light making out. Really, knowing how insatiable your appetite for him has been since the first time you’d kissed, he should have known that the two of you would end up here eventually.

It had started off innocently enough, the two of you spooning on the L-section of the couch he had insisted on buying when you had moved in together. Jason sits comfortably in the v of your legs with your arms wrapped around his stomach, warm and drowsy, some cooking show playing on the TV screen. He’d worn those grey sweatpants, the pair that you have a love-hate relationship with because of just how good they make his ass and thighs look. You haven’t been able to tear your eyes away from the faint outline of his cock through the cotton fabric. If asked, you probably couldn’t even name the show you’re supposed to be watching. He shifts, pulling the fabric tight against his cock. Saliva starts to pool in your mouth.

“Hey d’you mind if I try something?” you ask distractedly, focus narrowing to the crotch of his pants.

“What– OH,” he bites out as your hand closes around his dick, hips twitching and tone breathy.

“Go back to watching your show,” you shush him. “I just want to play a bit. You don’t mind, do you?” you ask. The fabric between your hand and his cock feels super-heated.

“I don’t– I don’t mind,” he manages to grit out. 

“Good.”

You move your hand along his shaft, gently squeezing, just trying to map out the shape of him now that you’re in no hurry. He’s a big boy, your Jason, proportional in all the right places. Trapping his dick against his leg, you stroke down, fabric bunching up beneath your palm. Jason’s breath stutters. Not wanting this to be over too quickly, you let him go. His hips twitch, chasing after your touch.

Instead you reach further down and cradle his balls in the palm of your hand. Roll them just to hear him moan quietly in your ear. If you had to guess, they feel heavier than usual, straining against the stretched grey fabric.

“Someone’s feeling a little pent up. Need a hand with that?” It’s some of your worst wordplay but it has the intended result.

“Might be,” he hedges.

Your other hand trails up to his pec and squeezes. His body is a lot more direct about what it wants, cock already fattening up in his pants.

“Getting fucked silly last night not enough for you, doll?” you pretend to pout.

“I cum a lot,” Jason confesses sheepishly, shame colouring his tone.

“Oh I know.” Fondly you think back to late nights in bed, Jason’s cum running down the inside of your thighs.

“I just mean that I hafta come a lot.” He tucks his chin into his chest. “Starts to get uncomfortable if I don’t at least twice a day. Hurts if I’m wearing the cup for patrol.”

You reward him for his honesty with another sharp drag at his twitching dick. On the television a contestant gets eliminated.

“So my big boy’s got a big load. Just more to fuck me full with,” you tell him smugly. He tries to thrust up into your hand, but you pull back, tutting. “Hey, you ever try and see just how much you can come?” You trace his chest through his shirt idly while he tries to piece together an answer.

“No?” his voice rises, tremors running through it as you dig your nail into his nipple. A damp spot starts to appear through his sweats, right where his purposefully neglected cock head sits. “It’s embarrassing enough I gotta jerk off a coupla times a day. Don’t wanna think about it too hard.”

“Yeah? Do you think of me every time you sneak off to have a furtive session in the bathroom?” you ask, half teasing half serious. Your hand closes around his shaft again. “When your balls tighten and your cock kicks in your hand, do you picture me?”

“Ye–ah,” he moans out, chest heaving. You press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw and flick at his nipple just to feel his breath catch.

“Good. Then I’m going to give you something real good to picture tomorrow, and you’re going to show me just how badly you need this. Don’t want my baby doll hurtin’ ‘cause he didn’t take the time to take care of himself.”

He nods, jaw clenching, as you finally thumb over his slit. Dig in to the growing damp patch with the pad of your thumb until fine tremors run up and down his spine. You let go just as he works up the nerve to try and thrust into the pressure.

Tapping at his hip, you urge him “Up, up. I want these off.”

With hands that feel dreadfully clumsy for their size, Jason manages to push his sweats and boxers down just far enough to free his dick from its confines. He almost dies from embarrassment over the way it nearly smacks against his stomach, practically drooling pre-come. On the TV, a new lightning round commences.

“Always so wet for me,” you murmur, slicking your hand with his pre. “I don’t think I even need lube for you, doll.”

The first pass of your hot hand over his bare skin is electrifying and Jason knows his first (of many, he hopes) orgasm isn’t far off. You set a fast pace, an extra twist of your wrist right below the head that has his stomach swooping. It’s white hot pressure, wet and good as you murmur soft praise into his ear. His hips start moving unconsciously, prolonging the drag of your palm on his cock. He moans when you tighten and release your grip intermittently, caught off guard by the sudden change in pressure. Flickering heat builds at the base of his spine, so strong he can taste it like iron on his tongue. Clever fingers pinch his nipples and he careens into orgasm eyes shut, teeth closing around his earlobe.

His cock twitches in your hand as he comes, spurts landing on his clothed chest and tummy. After an eternity stretches out, it slows to a dribble, thick white globs catching on your knuckles as you continue to stroke him through it. Letting go of his now sensitive dick, you drag your hand across his stomach, causing it to twitch, collecting the cum in your palm.

You hold up your hand for his inspection, rotate it back and forth to show him just how wet your hand has become. Embarrassment burns through Jason at the sight, lights up his cheeks and tightens his chest, the image of his copious desperation shining in the lamplight seared into his brain. Cum pools in the webbing of your fingers and starts to roll down your wrist in hot drips.

“Didn’t mean to make a mess,” he says, stomach still spasming and hips still twitching.

“No?” You press warm wet kisses along his jaw. “Then we’ll just have to keep going until you do mean to.”

The first tug at his cock is electrifying, back bowing tight as a string, his head dropping back onto your shoulder. You mouth at the warmed skin of his throat, adding just a hint of teeth as you trace the veiny underside of his dick with a slick finger.

“C’mon doll, I know you’ve got it in you to make a much bigger mess,” you croon, reaching down to tug and squeeze at his balls until he’s moaning like a whore for you. “Want you to give it all to me.” He starts grinding into the air in desperation.

“Please, can I– wanna fuck your fist. Please?” he whines. “Wanna come for your hand.”

You give a slow, leisurely stroke of his cock that has his shoulders shaking, before pulling off completely, hand still clenched in a loose fist.

“You’re so polite.” You press a kiss to his temple, hook your chin over his shoulder for a better view. “Now c’mon, good boys get to take what they want.”

His hips surge forward, every taut muscle in his body working to piston his dick in and out of your fist. It’s a heady feeling, watching him flex and strain under your hands, sweat beading on his forehead. Jason whines when you make him work for it, holding your hand a little further away so his hips have to arch just that much higher. He’s more flexible than you thought, a fact you file away for later. You tighten your grip and pull your hand closer, force Jason to change his pace to something jackrabbit fast, punched out little uh, uh, uhs falling from his mouth. With every stroke he’s slicking his cock up with his own cum, all shiny and wet.

“Look at you, all covered in cum for me. Your dick’s so pretty like this, puttin’ on a show,” you murmur.

“Jus’ f’r you. S’all yours,” he slurs, brain melting out of his ears.

“Yeah?” You press your thumb into the slit of his cock head. “So that means this cock is mine, right?” Jason nods frantically, keeps trying to fuck his whole length through the vice-like clutch of your hand but you’re not done playing yet. You grab his balls with your other hand. “All of this cum belongs to me?”

“Yours, all yours,” he gasps, so far gone he barely remembers his own name.

“That’s right doll,” you coo. Dig your fingers into the sensitive spot just under the head. “It’s my dick and my cum. Mine.” Heat burns through Jason’s veins, hums with the desire-shame thrumming through him and pools in the pit of his belly. “I fuck myself with my cock whenever I want and I get my cum whenever I want. And right now I want all of it.”

“Yeah wanna– wanna give it to you. Please. Need ta come. Need it. Need it need it,” he whines through gritted teeth, tendons pulling tight in his neck. His hands scrabble for something – anything to anchor him – and close around your thighs.

“Be a good doll and come then,” you instruct him, voice heavy with your own lust.

You start jerking him off in earnest, palm wrapped tight around the fat girth of his cock. He keens, body seizing up. A wet hand trails up to pinch at the tight bud of his nipple, leaving damp cum stains across the front of his shirt. Jason comes with a throaty groan on a particularly wicked twist of your wrist, tries to tuck his face into your neck. Rapt, you watch the thick white fluid dribble down his cock, sticky between your knuckles. With a steady hand you stroke him through his orgasm, more interested in the way his dick glistens than the pleasure-pain overstimulation he’s riding.

Cum pools at the base of his dick. Forms a frothy ring of creamy white from where your hand has churned it up, clings to his pubes and gathers in the divot just below his hip bone. Its still warm when you dip a finger into it, use it to draw idle patterns over the skin of his lower stomach where his shirt has ridden up. His muscles twitch and jump under his skin as he lets out a high and reedy sound. Sweat clings to his temples. The hands clinging to your thighs tremble as you continue to tug at his cock.

Jason’s next orgasm rolls over him, builds so gently he doesn’t notice it growing over the harsh passes of your hand over his dick. Only a little cum dribbles out this time, pearls at the fat head of his dick before slowly trailing its way home to your hands. He mewls when you bite down gently on the meat of his shoulder. Eyelashes fluttering, his head drops back to loll on you. Fine tremors rack his large frame as he limply clings to you, spent and vulnerable, raw with pleasure.

“Kiss, please,” Jason demands, fucked out and sweetly. Wetness dots the corners of his lashes as he gazes up at you, your pretty boy.

The kiss is almost chaste in comparison to everything that preceded it, closed mouth and sweet. He sighs into your mouth and melts into the cradle of your body. Shifts his hand to thread it through your fingers not currently rubbing cum into the heated skin of his cock. Jason’s mouth chases after yours, starved for tenderness. Pulling back, you lay your forehead on his and close your eyes. The two of you stay there, rough inhales evening out into something soft. Intimate.

“You were so good, baby. So good,” you murmur to him. Jason squirms a little at the praise. Or maybe at the way you slip a hand under his shirt at the same time. “Can you be good just a little longer? Want you to come again–” he whines, starts shaking his head, “–just once. Just one more, okay?” You dust kisses across the tip of his nose, the scrunched up space between his eyes. “You can do this, baby doll.”

“I can’t. I can’t,” he moans. His fingers clench and unclench around yours.

“Yes you can, I’ll be right there with you the whole time. You’re not doing this alone. Why don’t we just try, hmm?”

He looks up at you, hazy eyed and trusting. Jason’s curls are stuck to his damp forehead and there’s high spots of colour in his cheeks. His lips are shiny and swollen from where he’s bitten at them. Tongue darting out between his parted lips, the growing desire to be good, to give you what you’re asking of him, is nearly tangible in the air. What a sweet picture he makes, your doll. He looks like yours.

“Will you– will you kiss me through it? Don’t wanna get lost, don’t wanna be alone. Promise?”

“You can have as many kisses as you want,” you reassure him, squeeze his hand with your own. “You can have as many as you want after too.”

You kiss him and he melts. You kiss him and reshapes himself into the image you create for him. Hips twitching at every feather light touch to his cock, balls drawing up tighter and tighter with each breath. You swallow down every sigh and whimper, soak up the way his breath hitches as you neglect his cock to trail the pads of your fingers across the tense muscles of his stomach. How eager he is to open up to you, mouth parting for your entry. You flip his hand over so you can hold it properly, let him clutch it to his chest for comfort as finally you start teasing his dick again.

You work him over, running the flat of your hand against the length of it just to feel it struggle to get to full mast again. Jason cries out when you finally close a fist around the base of it. He settles down again with another soft kiss pressed to his open mouth. His hips start to roll with the slow, gentle pace you set, eyes closed. He gasps when you speed up the down stroke, still tortuously slow as you glide back toward the tip of his dick. Slowly the muscles of his thighs start to twitch, no longer relaxed as they begin to lock up. Something slow and cloying as tar builds at the base of his spine, tugging and clawing it’s way from the tips of his toes and the prickle of his scalp to settle low in his gut. He forgets to breath. 

Jason’s desperate, thrashing under your hold, trying to escape the drag of the blade across his nerves, pleasure spiking. He could break free, if that was really what he wanted. Instead he lets you draw things out, begs and pleads for more.

“S’too much. God. Don’t sto-p. Please.”

He feels strangely divorced from his body as he comes on an exhale, jaw slack and hips arching off the couch. One single spurt and then he’s coming dry. The force of it burns through him, toes curling, heart shaking. He’s light headed, limbs so weak Jason doesn’t think they’d hold him. He pants, trying to force air into his lungs as his ears ring. His molars hurt the same way they do when he touches a live wire. He looks at you with stars in his eyes, white spots dancing across his vision.

“Oh you were so perfect, doll. Didn’t I say you had one more in you?” You nuzzle into his cheek before tenderly placing a kiss there. “And look at how much you came!” Dragging a finger through the puddle around his dick, you giggle. “You’re going to have such a good time jerking off to this tomorrow.”

He groans at that thought, already pained at the idea of orgasming again anytime soon. Still, he lifts your twined hands together to press kisses to your sticky knuckles.

“No more sexy talk, okay? You’re gonna kill me. Let me enjoy the afterglow a little before you start planning to pull my soul out of my dick again.”

“Okay, okay! Glad to know you enjoyed yourself too,” you laugh. “I’ll go get a towel to clean you up and we can restart the episode.”

“The wh– oh.” Jason darts a sheepish glance back at the TV where the credits are already rolling.

[formulawolff]

“you taste sweeter” — m.v.

pairing -> social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count -> 3.3k (oopsies!)

warnings -> cussing, slight angst, mentions of hate comments online, desperate + needy max, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, sweet moments, slight praise kink, tender max, yadayadayada

a/n -> the win in brazil today inspired me to write. it’s probably not my best work buttttt someone asked for a part ii to this fic here. i hope you guys enjoy! <3

"i'm sorry that this weekend has been a shit show."

lips press against your knuckles, carefully caressing them one by one.

"stop it," your hand darts out, cupping his cheek, "you're always so hard on yourself."

a chuckle rumbles in his chest, and you catch the hint of stars in his gaze as your eyes meet.

"i think i deserve to be a little harsh on myself. p17 is ridiculous."

you exhale, shaking your head slightly, "but you have to remember that was not your fault. you cannot control the weather, and you sure as hell cannot control what happens when the track is slick."

"i just feel terrible," he shrugs, folding his arms against his chest, "you flew all the way out here to just get drenched. you had to wake up with me at god knows what time to make it to the track. i'm supposed to be up in the fucking front and now i don't even feel like i have a chan-"

"stop it," your jaw clenches, "i wouldn't have flown out if i didn't want to be here. i wanted to be here and support you, max. there is nowhere else i would rather be than by your side."

the corners of his lips twitch into a meek smile, the dutch driver leaning in, "you're so fucking cute when you're all riled up."

"only because i hate to see you be so hard on yourself!" you protest, throwing your hands up in the air, "you are a generational talent. i wish you could see that."

"thank you baby," you can't help but notice that he's beaming now, "thank you, for being here."

"like i said," you murmur, your heart skipping a beat as you find the space between the two of you dissipating by the second, "there is nowhere else i would-"

"maxxxx! it's time for -- oh my god i am so sorry."

gianpiero's voice cuts through the space, the two of you shrinking back as he stands in the doorway the driver's room, a hand over his mouth.

"don't worry about it," max clears his throat, shooting you one more look before turning to gianpiero, "is it time?"

"it's time," max's race engineer confirms, checking his watch, "we need to get moving."

"all right," max sucks in a breath, rising to his feet, "i guess it's time."

you mirror his action, ensuring that you have your race day bag before shifting toward him. his arms wrap around your frame, bringing you in for a tight embrace.

for a moment, he's still, not moving a muscle as you bury your head into his chest. his fingers knead into your shoulder blades, strands of hushed dutch filling your ear. the words are tender, almost as if he was promising you something.

you weren't quite sure what, though.

"good luck out there tiger," you whisper, "i believe in you."

his arms pull away, the driver's lower lip trembling ever so slightly as he begins to follow gianpiero. before leaving the room, he ensures that gianpiero's back is turned, nearly bounding back toward you.

lips crash into yours, a hurried but passionate kiss. forceful enough to leave your knees buckling, yet laced with a sweetness that you couldn't quite place your finger on.

"i love you."

heat flourishes into your cheeks as he departs, looking back over his shoulder one more time before jogging down the hall, in efforts to catch up with gianpiero.

your heart flutters, a coziness seeping into your chest as you catch your breath.

max was never one to let his emotions get in the way of race day. he was always so poised, so focused on what was ahead. he was never privy to publicly showcasing his affection to you either. especially on sundays.

it never bothered you, really. you knew the stakes involved. you knew how important this was to him. you were well aware of the way people spoke about him online and in the media. lately, it had been nothing but negative energy. not only from the press and commentary, but from the fans as well.

you never overstepped. you never teetered over the boundaries he set in place for race weekends. you always ensured to keep your affection away from the public eye.

so, to witness that desperation to kiss you one last time. to hear those three words before he left. to feel him against pressed against you, reluctant to let go.

to you, that was everything.

and as voices buzzed in the air, the tension nearly electric as members of the crew paced around the garage as the rain pounded against the tarmac, max verstappen could only think about one thing.

and that one thing, was you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

droplets of water scatter about, the team rushing toward the car as a shiver runs down your spine.

max slips out of the car, nearly tumbling as he makes his way to the ground. your limbs itch, from your fingers to your toes, nearly screaming to take a step forward.

to make your way toward him.

he's drenched, the color of his suit a few shades darker as he claws his helmet and balaclava off, running a hand through his hair. his eyes scan through the garage briefly, picking through the throng.

his brow is furrowed, lips wound tight together with concentration.

you know he's looking for you.

yet, you don't move.

there was too much to risk if you approached him. in the aftermath of colapinto's crash, a red flag was issued on the track. with max's current position behind ocon and the ability to change tyres, there was a new opportunity presented before him.

the opportunity to overtake ocon from p2 to p1, therefore maintaining the lead and potentially winning the grand prix.

however, there were other factors present.

with a fresh start, the other drivers were presented with the same opportunity. lando norris in the rocketship of the mclaren would also be able to overtake as well, potentially threatening max's chance of a win. and with the current conditions of the track, who knew what would happen in the final thirty laps.

there was so much to consider. so much to speculate. so much to lose.

and because of that, you knew you couldn't interfere.

you couldn't do that to him.

to max, winning meant everything.

and to risk throwing him off over a simple hello or you're doing great? you couldn't bear the weight of knowing you had something to do that. you couldn't be the reason he lost momentum.

so, you stayed put, now blending in with the crew as they returned back into the garage, max sailing off down the pit lane, back in the direction of the track.

yet, as the dutch driver clutches the wheel, his heart thumping against his chest, he could only focus on one thing.

that bright, beautiful smile plastered across your face the moment you saw his car rolling up toward the pit.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"come here!"

he practically barrels into you, sweeping you into his arms. tears stream down your cheeks, cries of joy bubbling up in your throat as he squeezes you.

"i-i love you," he sputters, "fuck i love you."

your head tilts back, lower lip quivering as you take him in.

his eyes are tinged pink, glossy as your fingertips trace along his jaw. there's a swarm coming any minute now, ready to hoist him up on their shoulders, jeering his name. in the grandstands, there's the dull roar of the crowd, chanting along with the crew. his suit is soaked through, leaving a wet imprint all over your clothes.

yet, there is nothing else that matters but him.

"i love you m-more, maxie," you sniffle, wiping away a tear, "y-you have no idea how fucking proud of you i am."

his mouth collides with yours, a heated, heavy kiss as the rain patters. your hand wraps around the base of his neck, tangling into his hair as his mouth opens, deepening the kiss. his tongue slides along your lip, seeking entry.

you're about to let him in before he breaks away, nearly panting. a crimson hue paints his cheeks, his chest heaving.

"fuck."

"what?" you press, your brow arching.

"nothing," he shakes his head, nearly bewildered as he studies you, "you just look beautiful. so fucking beautiful right now in the rain."

your own clothes are beginning to cling to your body, damp from the stormy morning. your makeup is still intact, but smudged slightly from the kiss and the humid atmosphere. he can sense your exhaustion, but your eyes are wide, nothing but adoration swimming in their depths. drops cling to your hair, glittering as you cock your head.

"you just won a race and you're worried about how beautiful i look?"

to max, there was no other word to describe you in this moment but ethereal. a stunning ray of golden, pure light as the clouds hung low in the sky.

not just any light.

his light.

at your sentiment, his gaze hardens, the dutch driver's jaw clenching as the pad of his thumb grazes your cheek.

"y-you have no fucking idea what you do to-"

"max!" a voice cuts in, nearly grating through all the noise, "what a hell of a race that was!"

you bite down on your tongue as christian horner comes into view, along with numerous members of the crew. max's eyes dart to you, but he's swiftly whisked away, the sensation of his warm hands merely a phantom.

however, your mind can't help but replay the kiss. the way his hands roamed, desperate to bring you in closer than you imagined possible. the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the two of you floating from the euphoria. the way you swore you could see stars gleaming in his stare as you cried, overwhelmed with pride.

pride for your man.

the man who managed to go from p17 to p1 in a single race. the man who made a statement.

the man who managed to pull off the impossible.

and he was yours.

all yours.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"you have no idea how much i've been looking forward to this."

sweats cling to his hips as he is snuggled against you, arms wrapped around your waist. his head rests on your chest, lashes fluttering as you run a hand through his hair. you're almost underneath him, his body nearly squishing you. but you don't mind, as you were savoring the minutes.

the final hours together before you would inevitably have to part ways, saying those goodbyes at the airport.

oh, how you dreaded that moment. more than anything.

you would have to return to work, and he would be halfway across the world, enjoying a brief break before the final few races.

at least you would have vegas together.

but that felt so fucking far away, especially with the race scheduled at the end of the month.

"what are you thinking about up there?"

max's voice is merely a whisper, catching you off guard. you flinch, his head lifting, swiveling so that you're forced to meet his concerned stare.

"nothing," you shrug, "nothing important."

"hmm," he hums, leaning in for a peck, "that's a lie. you're always thinking about something. important or not, i want to know what it is."

"i'm just thinking about tomorrow," you lower your head, careful to avoid eye contact, "i just had such a perfect weekend and-"

"it's not over yet," fingers grasp your chin, "we still have the night together."

"but we have to get up early and make sure i'm at the airport on time and-"

lips connect with yours, his body shifting so that he's on top, practically pinning you to the plush mattress. a whine rises in your throat at the fierceness of the kisses, the way they send a fiery sensation burning throughout as his tongue explores your mouth.

his mouth pulls away, drifting to your jaw. instinctively, your hips buck forward, brushing against his as places sloppy, wet kisses along your neck.

"don't worry about the morning," his mouth hovers by your ear, "just focus on me, okay?"

you nod, "o-okay."

"is this okay?" his brow furrows momentarily, "i don't want to make you feel-"

you lower a hand, fingertips brushing along the waistband of his sweats, "this is okay. i promise."

at your action, max's breath quickens, the driver finding it difficult to string the words together, "i-i just can't help myself around you. seeing you after my win today, looking so fucking beautiful in the rain. i couldn't fucking control myself."

"that kiss was very unlike you," a giggle rings through the space, "i almost thought i was dreaming."

"you weren't," the corners of his lips curl into a wide smile, dimples and all, "i was right there, kissing you, wishing i could just get down on one knee right then and there."

"m-max," you stammer, the temperature of the room almost skyrocketing, "y-you don't-"

"i do," his voice is firm, "i want to marry you. i knew i needed you, but seeing you there, just waiting for me, with that gorgeous grin across your face.. it made me realize that i wanted to see that smile for the rest of my life. we don't have to rush, but i want you to know what my intentions are.

i want you to be my wife, but i don't want you to feel like you have to abandon everything to be with me. i want you to still do what you love, and i want you to still make a difference in people's lives. just how you've made a difference in mine."

"i love you," your vision is blurred, your throat tight, "i-i love you so much m-max."

"my sensitive girl," he lets out a chuckle, carefully wiping away your tears, "i love my sensitive girl. more than she'll ever know."

"i'll be your wife one day."

"one day?" he cocks his head, "is that a yes?"

"yes," you affirm, "that is a yes."

"now this has truly been a day to remember."

"is that so?"

"yes," max responds. taking your hands, he raises them slightly, so that they're on either side of your head. intertwining your fingers together he continues, leaning in once more.

"i'm going to hold on to this memory for the rest of my life. i'm going to hold on to you for the rest of my life."

"there's nowhere else i would rather be," you whisper, "i mean that."

"oh i know," his mouth ghosts over yours, "you were so fucking ecstatic earlier. it was adorable."

"i was just happy for you," your lips form a pout, "you have to remember it's been a long time since i-"

he kisses you, this time a little more hungry than the last. as his tongue slips in, between your thighs, you feel your clit throb, desperate for his touch as he deepens the kiss, squeezing your hands. his hips grind against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

"m-max," you nearly moan, "please."

"what?" he coos, "what is it baby?"

"i need you," the words are breathy, "i really need you."

"don't worry baby," a hand begins to drift lower and lower, savoring your heated skin along your stomach and abdomen, "i'll make sure you're taken care of."

"p-please," your head rolls back as his thumb meets your clit, dragging in slow, circular motions.

for a second, he's thrown off his game, completely and utterly bewildered at the stickiness coating his index finger as he plunges a finger deep inside.

"y-you're this wet for me? i've barely fucking touched you."

"like you said earlier," you grit your teeth, fighting a whimper as another finger slides in, your walls adjusting, "you have no idea what you do to me."

at that statement, max's jaw tightens, the lust that was merely a few flames now burning throughout, threatening to consume him whole.

fuck, was he going to ruin you.

his fingers pull out, hooking the hem of your own sweats, "i need this off of you. now."

sitting up, you kick off your pants, fumbling with your tank top in the process. your nipples are almost swollen, hardened from the brisk air. between your thighs, he can catch the glisten of your slick cunt, aching for him and only him.

in that moment, max nearly comes undone.

"let me taste you," the words are nearly a beg, "please baby, let me get a taste."

you nod, almost a little too enthusiastically, "please do."

he situates himself so that he's between your legs, his hands roaming your soft skin, spreading you open. he lowers his head, hands cupping your breasts as his tongue flattens against your weeping cunt. the tip of his nose brushes against your clit, earning a groan from you.

at that, a guttural noise rumbles in his throat, his fingers now gripping your hips, pulling you closer and closer.

there was no word that could describe the way you tasted.

the only thing that came close was heaven.

sweet, sweet, heaven that coated his tongue.

your back arches as obscene, filthy noises flood the room, hands in max's hair, tugging at the locks as his mouth envelops your clit, sucking lightly.

"that's it pretty girl," the words are ragged as you squirm, his lips shining in the dim light, "that's it."

"m-max," there's a feeling pooling in your abdomen, a feeling you knew all too well, "p-please."

"what?" his mouth curls into a smug smirk, "what is it pretty girl? you wanna cum?"

"yes. please."

"well since you asked so nicely," you're wound up tight now, merely seconds away from release, "i'll make you cum."

his mouth reconnects with your clit, applying the right amount of pressure as it dances. you writhe beneath him, stars bursting in your vision as you cum, bliss crashing over you like a tidal wave.

he pulls back, his cock twitching in his sweats, begging to be set free as he admires the way your chest heaves, your thighs almost trembling, overstimulated from the orgasm.

he wants to go back for seconds, lapping away until you're crying, pleading, begging for him to stop. if only you didn't have your early flight in the morning, then he would eat your pussy for hours, going all throughout the night.

"good girl," sliding off his sweats, his jaw nearly goes slack as your hand wraps around the base, pumping slowly, "good fucking girl."

as you jerk him off, two dingers dip inside, ensuring that their soaked before pulling out.

"here," he murmurs, pushing the digits against your lips, prompting you to open your mouth, "taste yourself."

as you take them in, tongue swirling along their length, the sweetness lacing your tongue, a groan tumble from his mouth.

"oh fuck."

"you like?" batting your lashes, you can't help but feel a grin form as he nods fervently, one hand gripping the heard board while the other rests on his shaft.

"victory tastes sweet, but fuck you taste sweeter. there's nothing like the way you taste and i'm addicted."

"is that such a bad thing?"

you nearly choke on a gasp as he pushes into you, stretching you out as his hips roll. he bites on his lower lip, fighting a smirk as your head hits the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure fills you to the brim.

"not at all," he's plowing into you now, "it's not a bad thing at all."

addicted was not even the word that described the way max craved you.

it was a hunger.

a hunger that would only be satisfied by your perfect, tight cunt.

and god, was max was going to savor the way you felt. the way you wrapped around him, practically begging him to go even further and further.

if only he could stay here, entwined with you. if only he could feel like this, forever.

however, vegas was quickly approaching.

and after that, who knew what the future would bring.

but for now, he was going to relish this moment.

tonight, and perhaps for the rest of his life.

[lidiasloca]

hi! could you do an azriel fic where he gets really angry/upset and reader is the only one who can help him calm down and open up?

you calm azriel when he is upset

azriel x reader

fluff

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

You walk to the balcony, not even bothering to grab a jacket to ward off the night's chill. You had arrived about two minutes ago, and Rhys had told you immediately what had happened. 

It was a vague explanation, probably because you had stopped listening the second he said the mission had gone wrong. A mission Azriel was in. You cut him off, asking where Az was. If he was fine. If he-

“He’s fine, Y/N. Calm down. He’s at the balcony.” And that was all you needed. You turned to go and find him outside. But Rhys stopped you. “Wait,” he starts, running a hand over his face in worry. “He’s - he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’s in a very bad mood. The mission… it’s affected him.”

“I’ll try.”

“Y/N. Don’t make him regret later about how he treats you now. He’ll hate himself for it.”

“I can take a few unkind words, Rhys. Especially if I know he won’t mean any.” Especially if it’s him, but you didn’t dare confess that. “Let my try,” you asked instead. 

He gave you a tight nod in answer. 

And now you are here. Taking careful steps towards the male, his back turned. You can sense something is off. Maybe Rhysand was right. Maybe it’s better to leave him alone. 

But your feet keep moving. And then, it’s too late.  

“Get inside, Y/N” he commands. 

You try to sidetrack him. “How did you know it was me?”

But he’s silent, so you command your feet to walk closer enough so you can take a look at his face. 

When you are next to him, he moves his face to look away. You don’t try getting closer, moving your gaze to the sight in front of you. The night was beautiful, very cold, but beautiful. 

Your eyes follow a line of stars, going down and down until your eyes meet Azriel’s, who observes you without expression. 

You can still see the glints of anger in his eyes, frustration painting his tense body. But the silence has made him calmer, so you seize the opportunity. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

Guess this is not going to be easy. You decide to go all in. 

“Rhys has told me the mission didn’t go well.”

He lets out a loud sigh. “Will you get inside,” he says exasperated. “I don’t want you here” You try not to flinch at his rudeness. 

“I know you don’t. But… I didn’t want you to be alone.”

He is silent, but at least he is looking at you. There is a more neutral expression in his face that gives you hope. 

“You… I hate that you always see me like this. Why do you always come when - never mind.”

Now you are the one quiet. Silent for the vulnerably lacing his words. 

“Because I care for you, Azriel,” you reply, your voice soft as a whisper. As if you were sharing secrets. The way his eyes regard you intently, intensifies the intimate feeling. 

He doesn’t have any words for a reply. So you continue. “Az, you don’t have to tell me what happened today. Not if you don’t want to. But please don’t close in yourself completely. Let me try to help you.”

He has never been a worldly male, yet his prolonged silence is killing you tonight. 

But you don’t feel like pushing him further. 

Eventually, as if he had been giving thought to your proposition, he replies, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Help me,” he says, and you see the effort he puts in giving you a weak smile. “Please.”

You suddenly hype up. Joy filing your lungs as you say, “Thank you, Az. You won’t regret it. Now,” you say, smiling broadly. “I think this will make you better: Board games with Cassian!”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “I think I am already regretting this,” he tells you, but the bright in his eyes tells you he is much better than a minute ago. And that is all you need. 

“Well - how about,” you start, too exited about your brilliant idea. “I convince Nesta to play with us.”

“Mmmm, that is a good offer. You know how I love watching Nesta destroy him in a game.”

“I know well.”

He pretends to think about it, and you feel eternally thankful that he is putting in an effort to make this work. That he is letting himself think that he can unburden himself from his demons. To let himself have fun with you. 

“I think it’s a deal,” he says, cocking his head in interest when he takes in your broad grin, your overjoyed look. 

You extend your hand, waiting his to seal the stupid deal.

He is hesitant for a second, a flash of sadness in his eyes. But he extends it at last, shaking yours in a gentle movement.

“Thank you, Az.”

He responds to you without words, moving his hand in a caress, going from your hand to your arm, and up, up. He has his hand on your cheek when he whispers, “Thank you.”

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

HEY! IF YOU LIKED THIS, YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY AZRIEL MASTERLIST HERE <3

and you can also request any fic idea you have through my inbox so i can write it down :)) i much appreciate requests for azriel and other acotar characters

[auroralwriting]

hi! here’s a little fic idea or something to maybe toy around with: spencer with a blair waldorf-esque partner (maybe just a similar upbringing?? idk) but yeah, maybe like the insecurity that comes from growing up like that. or like the softness in finally opening yourself up to love where you had to make yourself cold before. idk.

fashion!

spencer reid x fem!reader

an exposing gala finally reveals your hidden wealth to your team, and to spencer

word count: 2.4k / warnings: pure fluff, negative self thoughts, spencer is a sweetie and rossi is supportive dad, no use of y/n, bombshell/rich girl reader

The luxurious life you lived was one you kept hush-hush, private, and behind closed doors for all who wanted to peek in. You knew it was obvious that you came from some money. You went to Yale and got your masters from Harvard. Sometimes, you wore more expensive clothing, like classic Louboutin heels or Dior sweaters.

You kept all of your money and lifestyle private for the simple fact that you didn't want to be treated differently at work. Your teammates, friends, were your favorite people. They were all very humble, sometimes minus Rossi, and so incredibly kind. You didn't want them to assume that Mommy and Daddy bought you this job. That you didn't deserve your position in the FBI.

However, when Rossi invited the team to an expensive gala where you knew people would recognize you, you realized you were absolutely doomed.

"I have no clue what to wear to things like these!" Penelope cried out in faux agony. You and the rest of the girls were shopping in the mall, not a fashion mall, but a regular one, for clothes to wear to the gala. "I don't dress up fancily ever!"

JJ smiled calmingly, "Pen, you'll look gorgeous in anything you wear."

Your brain began to work overtime, fashion knowledge bustling in your brain at a million miles an hour. "Pink," You said. Your voice was always on the cool side, your demeanor stoic like Hotch. You were the fun one, though, and knew how and when to let loose. You liked to think of yourself as highly mature and collected. "A blush pink, not rose. Rose will wash you out."

Penelope blinked in surprise, "Really?"

"Absolutely." You nodded in confirmation.

"Ooh," Emily clasped her hands together, "Do me!"

It took you no less than a second to reply. "Dark red, burgundy, maroon. You suit a darker feminine look." You turned to JJ, raising an eyebrow. "Have you ever considered emerald green?"

JJ paused for a moment, "No, I haven't."

"You should. It would bring out your eyes." You replied with the smallest hint of a smile.

"How do you know all this?" Penelope asked, highly intrigued. "Are you some fashion goddess?"

You felt yourself fully smile, a small chuckle escaping your lips. "I've just always been really good with color-analysis, I guess." It wasn't a lie, color analysis went into profiling, and it came with growing up rich as fu-

"What are you going to wear?" Emily curiously asked, setting her hand in her head.

"I have a few ideas." You nonchalantly replied. "I think I have some dresses at home that will work."

Leading up to the gala, you found yourself feeling anxious anytime someone brought it up, which was all the time. Yes, you knew it was excitement, but it made you nervous to rationalize whether your friends would hate your or not after this. You tried to play it cool, nodding along to the conversations, but one comment really bothered you.

"God, I cannot wait to eye all those rich girls," Derek dreamily sighed, thinking about how much flirting he was going to participate in. "I hear the aristocrat-girls know how to push your buttons."

You knew Derek didn't mean it to be insulting, he was just joking, but it caused you feel a pang in your heart.

As the others continued to talk, you felt eyes boring holes into your body. It was Spencer, probably your closest friend on the team, and the guy you were hopelessly in love with. You'd never admitted it to anyone, the fear of rejection buried deep in your bones. You didn't want to lose him as a friend above anything else.

"Hey," Spencer softly whispered, taking in the look that had settled on your face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Spence." You nodded, allowing yourself to give him a sweet smile, the one that he knew was reserved for him and him only.

Spencer gave you a suspicious look. "You know Derek didn't mean it like that," He offered, reaching out to squeeze your arm.

"I know," you nodded. "Really, Spence. I'm okay."

The loss of your usual glimmer in your eyes had vanished before Spencer's eyes. He knew you better than that. Something was definitely up.

Even if he was your best friend, he found it hard to gather a good read on you sometimes. No one had ever been to your apartment, knew where you lived, met any of your family, absolutely nothing personal. You went to everyone else's places, met their families, it made Spencer's brain wrap around itself trying to figure you out. You were so open with him, yet so closed off at the same time. It was like you were hiding some deep, dark secret that you didn't want to hurt him. Nonetheless, he trusted your judgement, never prying too hard. He was too in love with you to even consider hurting you.

The night of the gala finally approached. You sat in front of your vanity, finishing up your hair and makeup. Reluctantly, you gave Rossi your address to come get you. He had hired out a limo to take the team to the gala.

As you walked outside, the cool chill of the air was a huge contrast to the heat inside, reminding you of how brutal Virginia autumn's could be. As you opened the door, you let out a sigh of relief when you saw it was just Rossi.

"I had a feeling you didn't want anyone to know where you lived," He remarked, a knowing look on his face. "From one to another, I know when someone has expensive taste. You, my dear, struck me as an aristocrat from day one."

"Does anyone else know?" You asked softly, biting your lip.

Rossi let out a huff of air, "Of course not. But you should tell them, preferably tonight."

"What if they think differently of me?" Your voice felt small, and you noticed the way Rossi looked at you with comfort. It was obvious that this was an unusual way to see you, but deep down, you were a sensitive, caring soul who played the part of the cold, badass agent too well.

"I can assure you, they won't." Rossi squeezed your hand for a moment, allowing you to buckle yourself in.

One by one, the team began arriving. They all looked amazing, of course, but the one that stuck out to you was Spencer in his classic black and white tux. Of course, his eyes couldn’t leave you, either. Mentally, you made a note of this eye-checking out, or eye-fucking, as Derek so gracefully called it.

Penelope was the last to arrive, and she gasped when she saw you. “That’s Prada!” She pointed, her mouth agape.

“My mom gifted it to me on my twenty-first birthday,” You explained, feeling relief when the team played it off as a very generous gift.

The gala was gorgeous, white, gold, and black filling your eyes. Of course, you’d definitely seen better, but it was your first gala in a few years. It was refreshing to see. The team, on the other hand, looked amazed at it all.

“This is the most amazingly spectacular thing I’ll ever witness in my life.” Penelope gaped.

“It really is gorgeous,” JJ nodded in agreement.

Even Hotch was staring wide eyed at the hall. “Hey,” Derek asked. “Why do you not look at all surprised or even any other feeling besides neutral at this? That cold?” Derek teased, unknowing of your true feelings.

Before you could answer, you heard a gasp from behind you. Your name was emphasized. You turned around to see a woman, her early forties, and the worst fucking haircut— Maggie Lowdry.

“My dear! It’s been far too long since you’ve been to a gala. Had us all worried sick you’d vanished, or far worse.” Maggie gave you an elegant hug that you reciprocated.

“I’ve been very busy with work,” You replied with a wide smile. “Maggie, this is my team. My team also includes Agent David Rossi.”

Maggie went wide eyed, “David Rossi! What are the odds Miss Heiress and my favorite author know each other, let alone are co-workers!”

You cringed at her words, sucking in a breath. Rossi chuckled, responding for you. “Not that low, for the area. Please, let me grab you a refreshment.”

Rossi gave you a knowing look, guiding Maggie away. Closing your eyes, you slowly turned around. “Look-”

“You’re rich?” Emily asked, interrupting you.

“Yes, but-”

“For how long?” Derek interjected.

“My whole life, I guess. It’s-”

“What do your parents do?” JJ inquired.

“They both own their own finance companies. This isn’t-”

Spencer’s words cut the deepest, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Covering your mouth, you shook your head, refusing to let tears well to the surface. The look on your face surprised the team. They hadn’t expected you to be so touchy about this.

“I’m sorry, I need air.” You quickly walked away and back outside to catch your breath.

“She’s sensitive,” Hotch began to profile you meticulously. “She puts on a cold front to trick us into thinking she’s someone completely different. In reality, we know she isn’t cold from how often she jokes or laughs and smiles. We know she’s hiding something, maybe a bad past. If we looked closer, we would have realized that this is why she never let us come over, or hardly went shopping with the girls.” Hotch paused for a moment, “She’s scared we’ll treat her differently.”

Emily frowns at his words, "We would never treat her differently because of her background."

"Or because she's rich," JJ added.

Hotch shook his head, "We're all lower-to-middle class. Maybe she thought we would resent her, or potentially believe we assume her parents bought her everything."

"A common stereotype for children of aristocrats is imposter syndrome," Spencer began. "Is that what.. is.."

"Reid, maybe you should go check on her." Derek insisted. "You're her favorite, anyway."

Biting his tongue at Derek's words, Spencer silently agreed as he followed in your previous footsteps. When he exited the building, he saw you sitting on the stone steps, staring into the city.

Spencer softly spoke your name, causing you to look up at him. No matter how hard you tried, Spencer noticed the redness in your eyes. "Can I sit?" Spencer softly asked, gesturing beside you. When you didn't respond, Spencer took that as an opening. He slowly sat next to you, his eyes never once leaving you. "We aren't mad at you."

"Do you think any differently of me?" Your voice was softer than Spencer ever thought he'd heard it before. You'd been with the buero for eight months, twenty six days, and thirteen hours. Even if he knew you well enough, he knew you'd done a damn good job of keeping your own secret.

"Yes," Spencer honestly answered, causing you to look at him wide-eyed as he continued. "I think you're much more sensitive and sweet than you let on to be. Sometimes, we could see the real you if we looked hard enough." You felt your heart beat die down at his words. "I think you're scared that we won't like you anymore because, what, you're rich?"

Your brows furrowed, "Is that not it?"

"Of course not," Spencer chuckled, grabbing your soft, manicured hands. "It doesn't matter if you're the President or anything less than,"

"I thought you guys would hate me," You chuckled at yourself, taking in Spencer's words. You'd been silly this whole time.

Spencer gave you a sympathetic look, "How could we ever hate you?" His thumbs rubbed the top of your hands, just in front of your knuckles. "Plus, I think we all already thought you came from a little money, that or you had incredible debt."

You laughed at his words, causing Spencer to smile brightly. "Maybe some things gave it away."

"Maybe," Spencer warmly agreed, the smile on your face making his heart soar. "Honestly, I know I only feel much better about you,"

"Yeah?" You breathed out.

"Yeah," Spencer confirmed with a nod. "I feel like I'm really starting to understand you. I really think I'm gonna love this you." He paused, taking a deep, supporting breath in. "But, I already do, so maybe that means it'll only get stronger."

Your breath hitched in your throat as your lips slightly parted in surprise. "You- You love me?"

Spencer awkwardly smiled, "Yeah, I love you."

"I love you, too." You admitted, a warmth spreading across your cheeks. "I have since, like, they day I met you."

"I fell in love with you two months and three days after I met you." Spencer replied. He took note of your confused face and decided to help clear up what he meant. "Remember that case where you nearly got set on fire to grab one of the Hutchenson kids from their house fire?"

The memory came back to you in an instant, "That's when you fell in love with me? When I was coughing and covered in ash?"

"When you risked your life to save a child, even after the fact sending her to the first ambulance that arrived despite the fact that you couldn't breathe." Spencer corrected as you shook your head.

"I cannot believe that's when you fell in love with me." You admitted with a small laugh.

Spencer gave you his dorky half-smile, "If it helps, I'm falling in love with you all over again right now." He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ears, "So you get a do-over."

After a moment of the two of you just simply existing together, relishing in the presence of your love, you decided it was time to go back inside. "We need to go back inside soon. Or, I do. My presence is expected."

"Of course, I can't hog you all to myself, can I?" Spencer teased as he helped you stand up.

"You can have me all to yourself anytime there isn't a gala," Spencer's cheeks grew red at your words as you internally cheered. "Plus, now I have a boyfriend to introduce?"

Spencer nodded quickly, "Yes, you do."

"Good," You smiled, slowly turning around to walk back inside. "I hope you know how to dance too, by the way. The waltz is common at these types of galas."

"Wait, what? No, no, I can't dance- hey, wait up!"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

There’s a knock at the door. You huff as you don’t need to look through the peep hole to know who it is. No buzzer but he always finds a way. 

You pick up your phone and open the chat, ‘told you I’m tired.’ 

The little check mark flicks down. Read. No reply comes, only another knock on the door. 

‘Long day.’ You send another message. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

“You really want me to knock the door down?” Bucky chuckles through the wood. 

You inhale and roll yourself off the couch. You drop the phone on the square end table as you pass and drag your feet to the door. You lean on the inside and yawn as loudly as you can. 

“It’s after curfew,” you jeer. He wiggles the handle. “Go home.” 

“You’re gonna leave me out here like a stray cat? Come on. I came all the way down here,” he pleads. 

You turn your back to the door and shrug, “told you not to. Besides, not all of us have a soft spot for alley cats.” 

“Alpine is not an ally cat. Come on, I brought beer.” 

You scoff, “thought that piss didn’t do anything for ya?” 

“No, but it makes you a lot of fun.” 

You huff and push off the door. You turn and slide back the chain. You flip the lock back and open up. You arch a brow at your uninvited guested. 

“Thank you,” you trill and grab the six pack from him. He catches the door before you can swing it shut. He tuts and steps forward, pushing his elbow into the wood until you let it go. 

“Don’t play games. You know, I can tell when you’re in need of a good fucking. You don’t send any emojis.” He snaps the door shut behind him as you retreat with your prize. 

“Or maybe I was trying to get you to stop texting so I could enjoy my new toy in peace. Ever think of that. Sometimes It's about efficiency, not passion.” 

“Passion?” He scoffs as leans a hand on the wall and lifts a foot to undo his boot. 

“Probably not the right word for this,” you free a can from the plastic rings and shove the rest in the fridge. 

“You and your goddamn toys. Let me guess, this one has blue tooth.” 

“Does yours?” You strut out of the kitchen and flick his arm in passing. 

“No but it’s got all the features you need and you know it.” He taps your ass before you can elude him. 

You crack the can of beer and take a deep gulp. The TV continues to blare the reality show retrospective you’ve been feeding your time to. You flop on the couch and sigh. You suck down the grainy brew and swallow a gulp before it can escape your throat. 

Bucky looms behind the couch and grips the back. He leans over you. “How many of those until those hideous pajamas come off?” 

“Ha? What? You don’t wanna fuck me in my Spongebob jammies? They’re vintage.” 

He snorts, “you really are good a killing the mood, aren’t you?” 

“You’re a real Squidward sometimes, you know that?” You slurp another mouthful. 

“I have no idea what that is,” he says flatly as he tickles along your shoulder. 

You hate it. You hate him. Just a touch and you’re ready to go. Minutes ago, you were ready to pass out but now you’re wide awake. And fucking horny. 

“BPM going up, body temperature rising,” he runs his vibranium knuckles along your cheek and you wince away from him. 

“I hate when you do that.” You pull away and stand, plunking down the can. You huff and peel off your tank top. “I have an interview for a promotion tomorrow so hurry up.” 

“Romantic? Do you still wanna use the new toy? You know I don’t mind filling your mouth when you get like this.” 

You stick your tongue out at him and point to the bedroom. He rolls his eyes and strides off. You pause the television and take another swig of beer. You need to sleep and he’s good at fucking you into a coma. 

As you reach the bedroom, he’s already naked. His broad shoulders are etched in scars, the left one mottled with aged burns along the border of vibranium. His muscles cord down along his rib cage and sides.

A year ago, you would never expect a man like this to be standing naked in your bedroom. A super soldier. Bucky Barnes. 

He turns to you and wiggles the little square between his two fingers. The wrapped condom reflects the overhead light with its flashy packaging. He flexes his chest as you reach to undo your bra. 

“Should I pop it on now or can I get a taste first?” He asks with a flick of his tongue. 

You march to him and swipe the condom from his grasp. You jab his chest and he staggers back to the bed, his legs pressing against the frame. He teeters as he smirks down at you. 

“I’ll give you a ride, cowboy.” 

He falls back and spreads his arms wide. The bed squeaks beneath his weight. You push down your pajama pants and climb over him. You toss the mattress to the top of the bed as you raise yourself on your knees, hovering over his head as his thick hair fans out beneath.

He turns to graze his beard against your thigh. You purr and lower yourself to smother him in your cunt. He hums and laps at you eagerly. 

Mmm. This is exactly the stress relief you need. 

[allurilove]

Yan classmates kink list.

What are these greasy guys into?

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Kink list with links for every single one of my characters!

Submissive to Switch to more of the Dominant Characters! I will update this as I go post more fics!

Submissive

“Kenny” | Kendrick

If you really want a submissive guy, he’s your man. Well he’s your husband really. He’s afraid to talk back to his wife, and he does everything around the house. He stays at home, cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the kids. In a AU where women rule the world and men go to The Husband Program to learn to be good husbands, being submissive comes naturally to him. He can be a bit mischievous and a rebel, especially when he was young, but a good little humiliation will put him back into place. So, I guess he’s a masochist.

Loves to eat you out, and likes to be praised afterwards.

Favorite sex position might just be when you’re sitting on his face. Or the classic missionary.

Hes pretty vanilla since men are taught to be more modest.

Dumb Yandere

Most ditsy and dumb man you have ever met. He is a weird ass pervert too. You catch him sniffing and licking the crotch area of your pants and underwear before.

Would bury his face into your behind and lick whatever he could.

Loves compliments and rewards.

He does get scared easily so anything with whips and binds is terrifying.

He doesn't like any position where he cant see you.

Perverted Yandere coming soon!

Yandere Prodigy

He is definitely more on the submissive side. He pretends that he hates you and that he’s cold hearted, but the moment you touch him he melts.

He would be a bit bratty and talk back at you.

Is the type to get a nosebleed at the sight of your bare skin.

He would definitely want to hear your praises, and how much you love listening him play violin.

favorite position might be anything that has him on the bottom.

Yandere Neighbor

He’s done everything to be close to you, and he even bought the space next door to your apartment. He loves to be choked, ordered around, spanked, will love it if you rode him, and he’ll go anything really. He’s the most dedicated man I’ve ever written for the readers.

He would fuck you anywhere. I mean he literally masturbated and licked your door knob for gratification.

Phone sex ? The type to hit you up with a message saying: "What are you wearing?" at 3 am.

Favorite sex position maybe doing it while standing up. He can hold you close and press you against the wall.

Yandere Best Friend

He’s quite new to sex so he doesn’t know much. But he does have a praise kink, and loves it when you call him a “good boy.”

I’m sure he would love to have you teach him new things, and would be pretty open minded, so an experimentalist.

Favorite sex position is probably cow girl or reverse cow girl.

Yandere Survivor

He cut his dick off for you to eat, I mean damn. He sacrificed his whole life because he wanted your attention to be solely on him. Before the apocalypse, he did have the occasional hook ups. He would mostly be a bottom and let people do their thang on him.

Most likely to call you “master” or “mistress”

Before the apocalypse he has had his fair share of hookups, and would occasionally love to bite on ears.

He'll be your pet if you want him to be.

Switch

Yandere Mothman

A possessive man that becomes putty in your hands. He sees you as his mate and life partner.

Overall, he's pretty submissive. He does take over when the mating season comes around. The mating process takes several hours.

Yandere Boyfriend

He’s literally a damn loser. He steals your cups, your underwear, and he would follow you around the world. He likes to have his hair pulled, or pull your hair.

He is pretty vocal during sex and would like to hear you too.

Choke him !

Loves to beg and loves for you to beg him

Loves it when you ride him or are just desperate for him as he is for you. but his fave sex position is doing it from the side, or missionary.

Would probably dress up as anything for you.

Yandere “Blood bag”

Has a knife kink and blood fetish.

He likes to mark his lovers, and bite down on their shoulder as he cums.

He would love it if you drank all of his blood and leave him almost to the brink of death.

Has fantasies of you using him just for his body.

Yandere Yearbook guy

All he needs is a photograph of you. Which he has plenty of.

Savior complex? the thought of you all hopeless or stuck somewhere- you know he’s just going to take advantage of that.

Loves to trigger your senses, and he would drip melted candle wax on you or please you with an ice cube

Pegging is fine with him too. As long as you know what you’re doing.

Favorite position: 69 or missionary with one leg over his shoulder

Yandere Professor

Your professor has an oral fixation for sure. He would stick his fingers into you after they’ve been soaked in your essence, and shove it down your throat.

Has a thing for when you call him “sir” or “professor”

Would have you bend over and spread your legs wide for him, and he’s an adrenaline junkie so would fuck you in public just for fun.

Car sex.

Yandere Knight

He's not a degrader. I mean, he would be mortified to call you a slut or whore. He also likes to play a little hard to get.

Hes a switch. He submits to you because you're a literal royal, and he'll submit to you in bed. He is close to being a dominant, and only submits to people he truly likes.

He does enjoy some good vanilla sex and missionary.

Hes a worshipper, and will compliment you while he is intimate with you.

Dominant

Yandere Farmer

The sweetest guy you will ever meet. He does like to fuck you in front of other people, especially his buddies. He'll tie you up and have you on display. It absolutely pisses him off if people dare to actually touch you though.

He calls you his toy.

His compliments are calling you his sweetest slut.

Yandere Chaebol

Your boss is into your little maid outfit he gave you. And he realized he just likes role play. He also loves to make you crawl to him, and pull you around on a leash.

Loves to sneak around and would probably have threesomes if he could.

He would love to see you sprawled out on his desk.

Yandere Stalker

Would love it if he could just have his way with you.

Blood kink. Like he'll go down on you if you're on your period.

If he were to be a submissive, he would be the brattiest brat you have ever seen. He loves to feel in power and in control.

Would be the type of guy to make a goal to try every position in a single night.

Yandere Husband

Would be into bondage: tying you onto the bed, and trying your limbs together so you can’t move.

A bit of a sadist, and a brat tamer.

Breeding kink. He is also very touchy and physical touch is his love language.

So favorite position might be the mating press. And he also likes to fuck you in front of a mirror.

Calling him "daddy" will give him an ick. He's a literal dad and it feels wrong to hear it be said in an intimate context.

Yandere Dad’s Best Friend

Exhibitonist. I mean he did fuck you outside during the fourth of July block party.

Is into cock warming and just being close to you.

Squirting. And also dumping his load on your face after you give him a blowjob.

Slapping and spanking.

Would bend you over whenever he could.

Yandere Prince

He is more of the ruthless type. He's a dominant and a major degrader.

Hes a sadist, and if he were to partake in any sexual activity, he would like to be the master or owner.

Hes a rigger and likes to tie his partners up.

Him actually fucking you would be pretty rare. If you do get on his nerves, and manage to get him pretty riled up, you'll be dicked down in no time.

Ruining you is his favorite activity.

[liveontelevision]

Hi! I wasnt exactly sure if you’re taking request but i was hoping for something with Lucifer and a babysitter reader. Maybe they baby sat Charlie, and they just have a lot of tension. And then maybe them reuniting after him and lilith have split and it all goes down 👀

Love your slowburny Lucifer fics 🙏🙏

!!!

First off, thank you! I'm really glad you enjoy my stuff! I've been struggling with writing recently, so your request was perfectly timed lol

Also Yes! I'm always taking requests!

Plus, it's such a good request.. so good, I had way too many ideas for how it could go. So - this is a 2 parter >:) Suffer

CW: No smut yet, just suggestive fluff for now

(Edit- This series is complete! All parts are on my master list and I'll tag them here aa well!)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Suffer | Lucifer x Reader

It really was a happy day in Hell when the royals introduced an heir to the throne. A darling daughter, who was the first of her kind; A hellborn baby, birthed by a sinner and an archangel. No one really knew what to expect or what kind of powers she held. But they had to be immense. She had to be some kind of beast, based on her genes alone. In theory. 

One look at her, all swaddled up in her mother's arms, Lucifer fell in love all over again. Sure, he was ecstatic to hear that he was having a child, but he didn't realize how much of an effect she’d have on him. She was an absolute angel. Mostly. Great powers must be controlled, and that isn't exactly something an infant can comprehend. It was innocent at first, with little fireworks coming from fingertips, toys being lost in portals, and horns and tails emerging during temper tantrums. Nothing a good nanny couldn't fix. 

That’s what Lillith’s mindset was, at least. It was a heated debate between the married couple, with Lucifer arguing a child needs to be loved and adored by their parents. He was willing to put in the time, why wasn't she? Of course, Lilith was a busy demon, with the whole empowering demonkind with her voice and songs thing, but too busy to handle her own baby?

“She’s gonna be an adult before we know it. Can’t you spend a few decades seeing her grow up..?” Lillith delicately takes her cutlery to her mouth, picking at the dinner she shared with her husband, who was seated on the other end of their lengthy table.

“Unlike you, my love, I have duties to attend to. Someone has to keep things running smoothly, to keep every demon’s hopes as high as they can be. You remember what it was like falling, being all alone and left in an unfamiliar world? I wouldn't want anyone else to feel that way. Would you?” He hated to agree, but did so anyway. She always knew what to say to make him feel guilty. Either way, she was right. He really didn't do much nowadays. He worked in his shop more, his newborn daughter becoming a great source of inspiration, but Lillith handled most of the publicity. Which, in Hell, is one of the only purposes for royalty. Lucifer didn't need to create life anymore, Hellborn creations were multiplying just fine. Probably a little too much, actually. He had all the free time in the world to shower his daughter with affection. 

“ I mean..! I guess not, but they're filthy little demons, and this is your daughter! You want to leave her in the hands of some stranger? It’s just.. not right..! She needs a mother, Lily!” He was clearly passionate about this. Slamming his fists on the table, he sent ripples through the poured wine in front of Lillith’s plate.

“Lucifer. You’re causing a scene.” He hated when she said that, too. And again, he shrunk back in his seat, keeping his mouth shut. They had been drifting apart for a while, the distance not doing them any favors. He had no interest in interacting with demonkind and was fully comfortable with letting Lillith take that on, so they became more distant as she tended to Hell’s growing population.

When she rose from her seat, he finally perked up, hoping to meet her eyes. She was already halfway out of the room. “I’ll do all the work, darling, not to worry. I’ll make sure any candidate is thoroughly interviewed and trained, I promise.” Her voice was reassuring, even with the heartless subject matter. Leaving Lucifer alone in the room with some imps that usually stand along the walls, he spotted her almost untouched plate. pushing away from the table, he nearly knocked his heavy, ornamented chair onto the ground and left through another exit.

—

“Oh, Charlie.. Your mother loves you very much.” He swung the bundled-up baby in his arms, reveling in the sound of her giggles. Pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, he placed her carefully in her golden crib. Standing over her, he leaned onto the railing, watching her large red eyes flutter shut. “And.. I will shelter and adore you, sweetheart. I love you, more than anything.” He wiped a little tear that began to well up in his eye when he spoke and struggled to finally pull himself away. Protecting himself from his intrusive thoughts, he held his arms across his chest and turned to leave her nursery.

“Aww, that was so sweet..” The figure leaning in the doorframe caused him to let out a startled yelp. “Who the Hell.. You have to leave, whoever you are.” He became immediately defensive, holding his hand away from the crib in some form of protection, but he still spoke in a hushed voice. If you were just an imp he wouldn't be as worked up, but you were a sinner. A sinner who suddenly appeared in his daughter’s room. “O-oh! Um, sorry, I thought the queen would’ve.. I’m your new nanny..?” You let out a nervous chuckle, shrugging your tensed shoulders. And now? You’re admitting you're the very demon who’ll be raising his daughter alongside him. He dropped his arms, letting out a scoff, clearly unenthused. Looking you up and down, he stood there staring daggers. After a moment of awkward silence, you held out your hand to shake his, but he didn’t respond to it.

“What are your qualifications? Where did you come from? What makes you think you’re worthy of laying hands on my daughter? The princess of Hell?” He circled you, in an attempt to intimidate you, despite his small stature. “Well, um... When I was alive, I was the oldest kid at the foster house I grew up in. It wasn’t the best facility, so I basically raised most of the girls there.. I’ve seen it all, I guarantee.” You tried to lighten the mood with a quick smile, but it didint do much. “And Lillith approves of you?” You nodded, gripping the hem of your skirt nervously. “Hm. I am not as easily swayed as my wife. She’s my daughter, too. You’ll have to do better than - “ An ear-piercing wale comes from behind him. The commotion must've woken Charlie up. “Oh! No no nono..” His demonic presence faded to reveal what he really was. A father. He scooped her up and cooed, hushing her and swaying her slowly. It did nothing to help. That’s when another fact clicked in your mind; he wasn’t just a father, he was a new father. He lets out a nervous groan, wiping tears away from her heated cheeks.

“Your majesty..?” You slowly approached him, both of you still on edge. “May I?” He was clearly still debating the idea, but another loud wail had him hesitantly passing the swaddled child to your arms. He had such a light hold on her, you noticed his hands trembling when he finally released her into your grasp. You held her close, her front against your chest as you hummed in a low tone a little tune. You picked up a little trick, the vibrations from your chest helped calm her down. The action of swaying the baby and engrossing yourself in the little song running through your head actually calmed the both of you. You still spoke softly, in a low tone, “Thank you, sir. For trusting me with her, i mean. I’ll be here for anything you need. Anything she needs.” You sent him a warm smile. He simply nodded his head slowly, still witnessing the miracle that is someone with experience caring for a child. Maybe this could work out.. What could go wrong?

—

“I’m gonna getcha!” A high-pitched giggle filled the corridors of the manor, Lucifer rounds the corner to follow after his surprisingly speedy toddler. He was mostly having fun with this little game of tag but was also mildly concerned by her growing distance. “Gotcha!” A pair of arms swooped down from around another corner, scooping Charlie up as she let out a playful yelp. You held her in a tight hug, before adjusting your position to hold her up comfortably. Lucifer panted, smiling at the sight of you and his daughter, despite him being out of breath. “G-good catch.. Hoof..!” He stretches his arms upwards, then places them on the small of his back. “Aren’t you the most powerful being in Hell? Why are you acting like a middle-aged dad with a broken back?” you laughed through your words, the sound making Charlie laugh along. He stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest, a pout on his face. “Uh, It’s for fun? Ever heard of playing pretend?” You bit your lip to prevent yourself from mocking him anymore. “Don’t laugh!” You shook your head, then watched him open his arms out to you. Or, to Charlie, actually, but you stepped back instead of handing her over. “Oh, I forgot to remind you, you actually have to head to the Heaven Embassy in a bit, so I’m gonna put Charlie down for her nap instead.” He dropped his arms and grimaced. “Right..”

This mid-day nap was a sort of tradition for Lucifer and his daughter. It was one of the few moments that Lucifer looked forward to these days. You knew that. As much as you enjoyed your job, it came with the unfortunate privilege of seeing Lucifer in his slumps. You rarely saw Lillith, actually, but that made sense. You were only here for Charlie while Lillith couldnt be. When you did spot her iin passing, you’d hand Charlie over and let the two of them have a sweet interaction, usually a quick hug and peck on the forehead, but that was usually it. You’d always notice Charlie clinging onto your shoulder and looking back in her mother’s direction whenever she handed her daughter back to you. It always crushed your heart to hear her go silent after those moments.

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d want to help get her ready for the gala tonight? You should be back in time and it won't take long. Lilith only wants her to make a quick appearance, so it shouldn't be too much work.. Good bonding moment, too!” His eyes sparkled at your invitation and he was quick to accept it. “Thank you, dear. I’ll find you after that meeting.” As he goes to walk past you, he places a hand on your back. He does this often, but as the years went on, it shifted from your shoulder to your shoulderblade, and now he delicately places his hand on your lower back whenever he can. It made you anxious at first.. Was anxious the right word? Either way, you didn't stop him.

He leaned in to place a kiss on Charlie’s forehead, becoming increasingly close to your own face. It wasn't a quick motion. He pressed a dramatic kiss onto her head, letting out a mwah! sound as he pulled back. But before he did, he looked up to you with half-lidded eyes. The eye contact seemed to last forever. And you ever wanted it to stop. A small hand came up and patted Lucifer’s cheek, a childish giggle breaking the moment between you two. What were you thinking? He’s your employer, he’s a king. He’s kind, and sweet, and tries really hard to be a good dad. Nope! Stop it.

“Right! Meeting! Heaven! Gonna.. Yup, I’ll see you.. Uh..” You finished off his words, “ - tonight?”

“Exactly! You got it! Bye, Darling!” He waved his hand off and walked off in a random direction that you were pretty sure didn't lead to where he was supposed to go. “I-I was talking to Charlie, by the way!” You heard from around the corner. You couldn’t stop your laughter with that one. “I know.” You said it softly, not letting him hear the slight disappointment in your voice.

The Gala wasn't a new event, Lillith held them often. Lucifer made his appearance with Charlie, then usually would make up some excuse to get out of the room. Gathering the leaders of each ring of Hell and some of the more powerful overlords, and demons, it was still a big deal. You dressed up Charlie often, since she would throw a temper tantrum when any of the stylists would try to get her ready. You didn't mind, you actually enjoyed prettying her up. You stalled for as long as you could, before beginning to dress her. You wanted to wait for Lucifer, but you assumed he got caught up in some kingly duties. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Don’t be upset. Stop missing him.

“Sorry - Sorry! I'm here!” The blonde demon rounds the corner, hopping on his one foot to balance himself before stopping firmly in Charlie's room. He was wearing an incredibly elegant suit. A dark purple sash cinches His waist, which was only visible because his jacket was hung over his shoulder. His shirt was speckled in gold, matching his hair when under certain light. “Had to convince them I could finish getting ready on my own! Damn stylists, can't catch a break with them.” He let out an awkward laugh, followed by a hoot. He sees Charlie, in her dark purple dress, with small poofed out sleeves, made of a transparent tool. “Charchar! Look at you, kiddo!” He scooped her up and held her close while he swung around. “You're beautiful, sweetheart.” He knew she wouldn't understand that until she was older, but never stopped him from praising her.

He pressed his forehead against hers, laughing along with her. You hated to break the tender moment, but you cleared your throat, bringing the attention back to you. “She's just about ready, just got her hair left.” He placed her back in the chair as you went for a brush. Working through her hair piece by piece, Lucifer suddenly stopped you. “Um.. can I try?” You nodded eagerly, handing the brush over. He swiped slowly, ebing startled by the crunch of a knot, he froze and pulled it away. “It’s okay, you won't hurt her - “ You didn't need to help him this way. Honestly, if anyone were to come in and witness this you could be fired. Still keeping that in mind, you place your hand over his, and guide the brush indirectly, to carefully work through her hair.

After far too long, you pulled your hand away and went to grab some other accessories. His brain was completely fried by the interaction, if this were some looney cartoon, smoke would be puffing out his ears. You weren't as calm as you were coming off as either. Why did you do that? You’d face a fate worse than a second death if anyone saw that. After letting your face cool down, you turned back and bumped Lucifer over with your hip, to take his spot directly behind Charlie. Placing your hands on her shoulders and kneeling down a bit you smile at her reflection. “What do we think, hun? Ponytail? Pigtails? Buns?”

“Braids!” You look at her with a questioning hum. “Pleease!” Braids it is. You start to section off her hair and quickly wrap one clean braid down her back. It only took you a few minutes to do it, leaving bystander Lucifer to sit in awe. He did that a lot. Whenever you’d do something with Charlie that came as second nature to you, he would watch intently. After you noticed his gaze, you began showing him how to do whatever task you had on hand. He needed those moments with her, you knew that. “Wanna give it a shot?” He jumps, as if you had just caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. “A-Are you sure? It looks kind of complicated, I don't want to ruin her hair if - “ You interrupted his nervous rambling by calling out his title. “I’ll show you, just come watch.” He nodded, almost too quickly, and rushed to stand near you. Very near you. He stood close enough to let your shoulders touch whenever you would lift your arm a certain way. You unfurled the braid you had already done, making Lucifer let out a little sound of disappointment, that you’d ruined your hard work just for him. After attempting to explain it, he manages to struggle his way through a messy braid. He saw you holding in some kind of laugh and sent you daggers.  “No - no! It’s good! Especially for your first time, it’s holding up pretty well! Here - “ You pulled the braid back out, then restarted it, letting him pick it up at an easier place. You took his wrists every so often, to turn his hand in the proper direction before letting him go on.

The focus between the two of you suddenly became intense. He stuck out his tongue a bit, too engrossed in his styling to notice. You stood behind him, your hands pressed on his back, while you stood on your tip toes to observe what he was doing from over his shoulder. Pointing out little pieces of hair that were falling out, you would reach out your pointer finger to gesture towards it, only bringing you a bit closer together.

“Is.. Is that it?” He stepped back slowly, giving you the chance to back away with him. You swung around and examined the braid that he had probably spent too much time on, with an overly dramatic hum. Tapping your chin and squinting your eyes, you researched the braid as if it were some puzzle to solve. “It looks great, Lucifer.” Looking towards him, you were expecting an overly confident grin at the acknowledged accomplishment but instead, was met with a wide-eyed bundle of nerves.

“Sir! I-It looks good, Sir! Well - I’ll let you finish getting ready and take Charlie to -” Reaching out your hands to pick Charlie up, Lucifer stops you by grabbing your arm. “It’s okay! I mean, that’s.. That’s my name! Makes sense for you to call me that, considering its my name, so - “ He lets you go and starts fiddling with the clasps on his sleeves. “It’s okay.. for you to do that..” You smile to yourself, going back to tidying up Charlie’s get-up, doing little things like putting on her darling little shoes and tying a ribbon at the end of her hair.

Lucifer then stood in front of the mirror, brushing off his shirt and slipping on his jacket. It was a dazzling plum-colored suit coat, with golden clasps across his torso, and a golden shoulder plate, that allowed a sheer cape to drape down his left side. He was absolutely stunning. You did your best to avert your eyes, staring at him felt like staring at the sun. You only turned in his direction when he cleared his throat to get your attention. “Sorry.. dear, but uh… If you’re done with Charlie, I just - I’m struggling a little bit here..” You watched him attempt to adjust his lopsided tie, finally drooping his head with a sigh of defeat. “Wow, I thought you wore one of those every day, what’s the problem?” The teasing always helped lighten the mood, you placed your hand on your hip as you leaned your weight onto the vanity.  He glared at you again, letting out a huff before mumbling under his breath. “It’s a clip on..”

You let out a breath you had been holding in, partially from keeping in your laughter, but mostly from the nerves. With the combination of you wearing house slippers, and him wearing his particularly taller pair of boots, he managed to look down at you when you approached him. You should've made it a quick motion, you’ve tied bowties dozens of times, so it definitely wasn't a new task for you. But instead, you took your time. You carefully traced your hands up to his neck, tugging on both ends to pull it as far forward as it could go. You stopped to straighten the collar of his shirt, then delicately knotted the tie with ease. Your breath became heavier when you rested your hands on the finally tied bow, feeling his heart pounding against the side of your palm. After he caught you in your act, he stepped back, the image of his wife suddenly popping into his head. “Ahha.. Well, um - Thank you. I’ll take Charlie, it’s about that time anyway!”

"R-Right.." you suddenly felt guilty for your actions, worrying that you overstepped some lines. He didn't seem upset or uncomfortable, he was just silent. As he lifted Charlie from her chair, the vision of the two of them left you breathless. A beautiful pair, with porcelain skin contrasting against a palette of muted purples, and the biggest, brightest eyes. Charlie's braid hung loosely down her back, same golden strands accented in the light off the room. You almost wanted to be in the moment with them.

"Hey, so.. if you think you have time, you're welcome to go down to the ballroom for a drink or.. something... if you want." He really had to consider if that was a good idea. The thought was sitting on his mind while he enjoyed the view of your focused expression on his tie. He watched your eyes light up at the notion, his heart swelling with.. with something.  "Oh! I mean - The queen talks about it like it's this big important fancy thing, but.. if you think it'll be okay.. I'll - um - " She thought for a moment, looking around the room. "I don't exactly have anything to wear.. I'll join next time, if the invites still open?" You smiled, but it was strained. And he could tell. "No problem! I'll have her find something for you, then you can slip in whenever you want. No pressure!"

With a wave of his hand, a little imp girl came from a portal he had conjured up. Peeking inside, you saw a vast collection of gowns. The imp took your hand and dragged you in silently. You stumbled, then stammered something out, something that should've been a thank you, or a show of appreciation, but you were too stunned by the situation. He waved, then Charlie waved, then the two were out of the room.

The picture of them together ran through your mind. Not just them in matching outfits, but whenever he would press his forehead against hers, or he would show off his horns when Charlie was prodding at her own. Or when they really seemed like a family. Lillith was never in those pictures. Fuck, don't be jealous. You're getting paid far too much money to feel anything like that. Plus, you're being treated to an elegant evening gown without even asking. You don't get to be jealous.

Luckily, the imp rolled out a rack of dresses, it was stuffed to the brim, but was still a more manageable collection compared to the entire room. You sifted through them, and each one that twisted your face, she took off the hanger and set aside. After narrowing it down, you were stuck on two dresses; a sultry red dress, with an incredibly high slit and a stretched velvet material that hugged you in all the right places. Definitely a head turner. Even if this gala had a V.I.P list, maybe some handsome individual could help you distract yourself.

But the other option was a glistening lavender color, the neckline went across your shoulders, turning to gloves that tapered at your knuckles. A sheer corset held your curves in place, and it was paired with pearl accessories, to go with your sleek white heels. Both were gorgeous of course, but turning your hips and taking in how you looked in that lavender gown.. you could see yourself fitting quite nicely into your mental picture of Lucifer and Charlie. You would never admit that's why you picked it. You were prettied up, your hair pulled to one side with pearl clips scattered within the strands, and a little touch of makeup that you really didnt want, but was convinced without a word by the stylist. You looked like royalty. And that made you feel good in so many ways.

—

Lucifer said you could "sneak in", and you thought it best to take that literally. Waving and greeting all the workers in the kitchen that you knew, you finally slipped through the door where the caterers traveled from. You went straight for the bar, not because you needed a drink - well, I'm sure that's part of it - but because you had no idea what to do. What, were you supposed to walk straight up to Lucifer? Or Lillith? The idea of seeing Lillith suddenly made your stomach churn. You realized that you actually got there in time to see the introductions for most of the more esteemed guests. They went through the sins, who were larger than life, then a flared announcement for the Morningstar family was belted out.

Lucifer stood with a devilish grin, looking handsome as always. Lillith was still stunning, her gown trailing behind her.. but it was black. It wasn’t purple, or plum, or lilac, it was just black. It may not have looked like a contrast to everyone, but it upset you for some reason. Charlie stood between them, looking incredibly calmed considering the intensity of the moment. Lillith was holding her small hand, but the difference in height made her strain to keep their fingers intertwined. You cringed watching her stand on the tip of her toes to keep contact with her own mother.

Quietly, as to not interupt the announcements, you beckoned the bartender to bring you a drink. You sat and sipped, your back arched as you leaned your weight onto your elbows. What were you doing here? Was this all worth it? To have your little Cinderella transformation? 

"Hello, darling.. and who might you be?" A sultry voice came from behind, causing you to swivle in the chair to face where it came from. It wasn't Lucifer, which left you mildly disapointed, but you definitely weren't upset at the curvy woman standing in front of you, wearing a dress that left nothing to the imagination. The swishing demonic tail wasn't something you hated either. A real fox.

"Oh, a friend invited me, I didnt want to cramp his style, so here I am." As you spoke, the bartender brings a tall flute of champagne over to the gorgeous demon in front of you. She glides to sit in the seat next to you. "Hm - well, I'd hate to see you all alone tonight, mind if I keep you company, love?" She slid her fingers up your arm and you have no idea how you managed to keep your cool. "Not at all~" maybe it was the confidence of your new appearance, but you had no issue with spending the night with this stranger.

All of a sudden, Charlie was plopped into your seated lap, causing you to look up towards an intimidating Lucifer. Examining the sudden shift in mood, you were relieved to see Lillith talking to some demons on the other side of the room. "Glad you could make it! Charlie here - reeaally missed you, thought I should say hi." He smile was forced, you noticed a slight twitch in his eye. "Ah, I see you've met my nanny! Quite a beauty, wouldn't you agree?" Lucifer came incredibly close to you, leaning in and placing his hand on your back. The only issue was the low cut of the dress, allowing you to feel his warm hands on your skin. You hoped he didn't feel the shiver run up your spine.

Taking a hold of Charlie as she climbed up your lap to hug your neck, you let out a natural laugh, feeling like yourself for the first time tonight. Looking back to your conquest, who was definitely about to ask you to "get out of here", you see a face of absolute disgust. Oh, right. You're just a sinner to these higher ups. And a working class one at that. Nanny wasn't the most flattering occupation apparently. She made a terrible excuse to get out of the conversation and walked away a little faster than she should've.

"Sir! I have no problem watching Charlie tonight, but - I was about to -" your face flushed as you tried to explain how you were just trying to get laid tonight. “Get a drink, right? Make sure you stick to the non-alchoomic stuff, hun, sounds like Charlie gets to stay up late tonight!" With a hefty pat on your back, Lucifer stepped away to talk to another random demon. What the fuck? Lucifer had beckoned the bartender over again, and when you looked back to the counter, you see a sad looking soda water. With a sigh, you guzzle the drink just to wet your dried throat.

As much a you loved Charlie, there was no better chick repellant. And even for the brave souls who decided to approach you and still show interest, Lucifer would suddenly appear, keeping his hand just above your tailbone as he mentioned your hard work as his employee. Maybe it was the word nanny, or the intimidating presence of the king of Hell, but he had to be doing this on purpose. You kind of hoped he was doing this on purpose.. After one too many fleeting suitors, you worked your magic and calmed Charlie until she fell asleep in your arms. You hummed a little tune again, the method was something she became accustomed to after you started taking care of her.

"My my~ what a sweetheart." A broad shouldered demon approached you, his lower voice ringing throughout your chest. "Isn't she? She's exhuasted, I should really get her to bed." You never took your eyes off of Charlie, making it easy for him to slip a hand around your waist." Ah, you’re her caretaker, hm? Well.. what do you have going on after you get her to bed?" His hand trails down to your hips, starting to trace a circle with his thumb. You swung away, a look of disgust on your face." Probably going to bed. By myself." You hissed. You never had a problem handling those kind of advances, and you'd do anything to keep Charlie safe, so you kept your distance. "You don't have to do that, baby~ why don't you show me around the Morningstar manor?" He closed the distance, and as you go to step back, your back hits the bar. "N-No thanks, I'm.. not..." You would have gotten nervous in the moment, if you didnt see a blonde headed angel approaching with horns threatening to burst out.

"Stay away from her." A small puff of flames came from Lucifer's snarl as he reprimanded the thug. He scoffed and stepped away as if nothing had happened. Probably the smartest thing for him to do at this point. Lucifer's suddenly glowing red eyes returned to their normal hue once he turned his attention to you. You froze in place. It felt like you were in trouble too. "You're okay?" He spoke blankly, you couldn't tell what emotion he was trying to convey, let alone how he actually feels. You nodded, keeping a hand on the back of Charlie's head." Get her to bed." With a dramatic turn, his transparent cape flew behind him and he returned to Lillith's side. He placed his hand on the small of her back.

You wanted to cry. To scream and drink until you can't think of anything. Charlie was your main priority, though. You took her to her nursery as soon as you could. Carefully changing her into her pajamas, a cute little onesie with ducks printed all over, then placed the drowsy toddler into her bed. "Oh Charlie.. You are so lucky to be so loved." You spoke geniunely, no matter your feelings, the amount of love Charlie is given and how much she gives in return was always so unbelievable to you. She was made of pure joy. Brushing some hair away from her face, you stepped back, taking your time on returning to your room.

"That is so sweet." You shot your head up, unpleasantly surprised by Lucifer's sorry face. "She's in bed, what do you need from me?" You spoke softly, as to not wake her. "You look beautiful. I just.. didn't get a chance to say that earlier, is all." Your face twisted in digust. "You know, you weren't the only one who thought that tonight. That was the first time I've been hit on in months. Couldn't you let me just enjoy the night..?" You were becoming increasingly frustrated, and it was translating clearly through your words. He flinched at your aggression, suddenly becoming defensive.

"That filfthy demon was feeling you up..! What else did you want me to do?" He started to match your energy, quietly responding in an aggitated state." Not him, the rest! I was about to leave with that lady at the bar, and I'm sure others would've enjoyed my company if I wasn't getting handed a toddler every second." You'd regret that one later, referring to Charlie as just a toddler. "That's your job, dear. Remember why you're here." He puffed out his chest, becoming increasingly close to your figure. You shrunk away, your eyes widened at his words.

"Oh- Oh, no, I didn't mean to - wait, I wasn't - " He stammered, his intimidating stature immediatly dropping as he say your eyes start to glaze over with tears, which only flowed down your cheeks after batting your made-up lashes. "Nonono! Please don't cry I - um.. " his eyes darted around the room, before reaching his arms out and reeling you in to a tightening embrace. Your chin sat on his shoulder, the shock momentarily keeping the water works at bay.

"I got nervous, okay..? I didn't want anything.. bad... to happen. I didn't want to lose you in there." Those words shouldn't tug at your heart strings at much as they did, but that and the low rumble of his voice just slightly hitting your ear made it impossible.

"I-I can handle myself.." You sniffled, your breath becoming heavier as you felt his hands start to explore your back. He rested one hand on the small of your back, sending a familiar warmth to your chest. But then, his fingers traced upwards, holding onto your shoulders for a moment, before lightly clawing down your bare back. He traced over a certain spot that tickled you the wrong  way, causing you to force out a little yelp. You both stopped for a moment, the only thing you could hear was the uneven pants coming from your mouths. He pulled away for a moment, keeping his hands on your shoulders. Then eyeing you up and down, he ran his grasp across the length of your arms. "I known you can.. you're wonderful." He somehow spoke as if he was completely unaffected by the intimacy he was just showing you. Your breath only picked up more, instantly regretting what you were about to do.

With a small leap, you pulled him in by his collar and messily met his lips. It couldn't be a quick peck, that's too confusing. You wanted this to last forever. He kept his lips sealed shut at first, but that didn't last long. With a shakey breath against your lips, he pulled you in by your waist suddenly, bringing you as close to him as he could. The motion took the air out of your lungs, forcing you release a vocal sigh. He only held you tighter after that. Your arms trailed up and around his shoulders, combing through the hairs at the nape of his neck. He broke for a moment, his kisses traveling down your lips to your jawline, then down to your neck.

Flicking your hair back, he latched an incredibly wet kiss on the softness of your neck. Lucifer took the invitation of your strapless dress to fully cover you in kisses, occasionally running his tongue up the length of your neck. A panting mess, you pulled him back up by his chin, finally getting a good look at his face. He was falling apart at the seems. He looked desperate to get back to working on your neck, like he hadnt been intimate with anyone in years. You needed his lips against yours again. Holding his jaw, you pressed a kiss on his lips, then squeezed your thumb amd index finger to open his lower jaw and push your tongue into his mouth. He let out a nervous moan, before quickly catching up to you.

This wasn’t right. This part wasn't in your mental picture of a perfect family. And you knew why. Your thoughts were silenced, feeling his mouth trail back down to your collarbone. He thumbed at the top of your long glove, beginning to pull it down. God, never let this moment end.

But you forgot. You're in Hell.

With a frantic patting on his shoulder, you quickly attempted to get his attention. When Lucifer met your eyes again, they had gone wide, and he finally noticed you shaking. "Hey, hey! What is it? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

"Yes." He froze. He slowly turned his head to the door. Lillith.

—

"Darling, please, I'm sorry, you know you're the only one for me - it was a long night, mistakes were made, let's just move on, hm..?" He was begging for this moment to be over, as Lillith moved past him and approached you. You had to crane your neck to look at her, your entire body trembling. You had mascara running down your eyes, and your lipstick had smeared in all directions. Lillith lifted your head up even further, wiping some smudged lipstick from the corner of your mouth. "Lily..?" Lucifer let out softly. She let out a soft sigh. She didn't seem to be angry, which seemed to make you more nervous than if she was. "D-Don’t.. don't hurt her..." It's like he was scared to stick up for you. That, and the fact that he just called this past interaction a mistake, weighed heavily on your heart. "You think that little of me, my love? I would never. It was a mistake, after all, just as you said." She spoke so calmly but knew exactly what to say to make you cower in fear. You let out a pathetic whimper, "P-Please... I'm s-sorry, Your Highness..." She smiled and tightened her grip on your jaw for a moment before letting you go. You didn't realize she was actually lifting you up slightly until you were dropped down. “So.. we can talk and figure this out, right? Lily?" She kept her eyes off of the anxious mess that Lucifer was becoming." Of course, love. We'll talk in the morning. Oh, and obviously - " She turned towards you just before leaving the room. 

"You're fired.”

—

HA

Anyway, there is absolutely a part 2 for this don't worry and I'll get to it.. eventually.

!Taglist!

( @vififofum @thornwolfy235 @tinywolfiegirl @chipper-chip @bat-boness @misfitgirlwrites @nayomi247 @lonelynmisunderstood )

[formula-nyoom]

Rookie Reflections | LS2

Platonic! Logan Sargent x Rookie!Reader

Summary: Being the only new addition to the grid, it may seem intimidating to try and introduce yourself to the other drivers. Logan remembers exactly what it's like to be the new rookie and doesn't want a repeat of what happened to him to happen to anyone else.

A/N: Pronouns weren’t specified so I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible. I still haven’t decided if I want to write in 2nd or 3rd person, it really depends on the fic/request. Previous reader inserts I have written have been done in 2nd person so I defaulted to that with this fic, but do let me know which one you prefer. Logan, my favorite driver, I’m glad my first request is for him. Also I have no hate towards Daniel, it just made a lot more sense to me for the reader to take his seat. 

Silly season didn’t come with a lot of shake ups like people expected it to. The only team to switch up their driver line up for the upcoming season was RB, with Daniel being replaced by the newest Formula 2 champion after not delivering the results Red Bull had wanted from him.

You had met Yuki for the first time during the car launch before pre-season testing, but with all the cameras, interviews, and excitement surrounding the new car launch, you were unable to find the time to properly get to know each other. You had hoped to get a chance to maybe sit down with Yuki and get to know your new teammate, but now in Bahrain with all the drivers in one place it seemed that all of them had already split off into their pre-established friend groups that had been built up over years of racing alongside each other, Yuki included. 

That’s the thing with being the only new driver for the season: All the other drivers already knew each other well enough that you felt too intimidated to approach any of them. Going to Formula 2 where you knew almost all the drivers to Formula 1 where you knew no one, it was like being the new kid at school. And that seemed even more evident during the pre-season photoshoot. 

Yuki still had some last bits of data to go over with his engineer so you arrived at the photoshoot without your teammate. While you did arrive early, most of the drivers were already there, either talking with each other or members of their team. A few gave you curious glances, maybe an awkward smile or two, but none felt the need to approach. Not wanting to risk bothering anyone, you decided to find a spot secluded from the various groups of people while you waited for either Yuki to show up or for the photoshoot to start. Maybe when the photographer started to position people for the photos, you could possibly strike up a conversation with whoever was placed near you. But for now, you felt content standing off to the side where no one would really approach you. Or so you thought.

Logan had forgotten something in the Williams garage, making him arrive at the photoshoot after Alex. And while he could have walked over to his teammate, who was currently chatting with George, he noticed you standing off to the side. You were away from everyone to where you wouldn’t get in the way as you scrolled through your phone.

Logan knows that move. He did it many times during his rookie season because of how out of place he felt. But he also wasn’t the only rookie during his season, unlike you who was the only new person to the grid. He can probably guess how nervous or out of place you may seem. Logan knows that feeling. He hates that feeling and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. 

Maybe that’s why he had decided to approach you. Or maybe it was because he didn’t have anyone else to talk to since Alex was busy talking to George, and Oscar was busy talking to Lando. Either way, he thought it was a good idea to introduce himself.

 “Hey,” Logan said, getting your attention. “You’re the new RB driver, right?”

Logan already knew the answer to that question, but he thought that was a better question to ask than pointing out the fact that you’re the new rookie. 

 “Yea, I am.” You said. Guess you were wrong about people not approaching you as you looked at the man standing before you.  

“I’m Logan.” He said, holding out his hand for you to shake. You already knew his name before he introduced himself. Hell, you knew all drivers names on the grid but that was another intimidating reason why you hadn’t tried to approach anyone. 

 “I’m (Y/N).” You said, shaking Logan’s hand. 

“So, are you excited for the upcoming season?” Logan asked. 

 “Yea. The car seems to be a good contender with the testing we’ve done so far. Hopefully I’ll be able to score some points by the end of the season.”

 “What makes you think you won’t get points at the beginning?” Logan asked.

“Well I am the rookie this season. I’m still getting used to the car, it’s a huge difference from the F2 car I was driving last year. Plus everyone else has been racing longer than I have. It's gonna take me a while to catch up.” You explained.

 “Oh come on, don’t doubt yourself this early. Trust me, it doesn’t help.” Logan said. You shrugged.

“I guess you’re right. I mean, I’m gonna try my best no matter what, but the highest I can see myself getting for the first race is P15.” You told him.

 “That’s a good start. “ Logan said. He smiled and you couldn’t help but smile as well. The two of you ended up talking about what you both did over the winter break and your expectations for the season until the photographer called for the photoshoot to start. You hadn’t even realized Yuki had arrived until the photographer positioned you two next to each other.

 “I saw you and Logan talking earlier. I hope it was a good conversation.” He whispered as you waited for the photographer to take a picture.

“He was just introducing himself. We talked about our expectations for the season.” You told him. Yuki smiled a bit.

 “Logan’s always been nice. I’m glad you’re getting to know some of the other drivers.”

~~~

“Come on Yuki, pick up!” You mumbled as the call went to voicemail again. After pre-season testing had wrapped up, you had finally managed to get to know Yuki by going out to get dinner together with the rest of the team. He had promised that the two of you would walk together through the paddock on the first day of the season, but after arriving at the entrance you saw no sign of your teammate. And the fact that he wasn’t answering his phone didn’t help either. But looking around towards all the cars pulling in towards the entrance, you did however see Logan arriving.

 “Logan!” You quickly walked over to him as he got closer to the entrance.

“Hey. What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be with your team?” He asked, noticing the lack of anyone from RB with you.

 “Well me and Yuki were supposed to walk in together, but I can’t find him anywhere and he’s not answering my calls.” You said. You looked past the turnstiles at the entrance to the paddock. “I don’t really want to walk in by myself.”

 “Do you want me to walk in with you?” Logan asked. You looked back at him.

“If it’s not too much to ask.” You said. Logan just shook his head and smiled.

 “It’s no bother.” He said. He gently ushered you towards the entrance and the two of you walked through. It was an understatement to say that you were nervous to greet the cheering fans that stood by the barriers with things to sign. But knowing that Logan was right next you signing things as well and taking pictures with fans made you less nervous. You even got to take some pictures with him and fans as well. 

 “If I wore all these friendship bracelets in the car, I think I would add an extra pound.” You joked as the two of you walked past the various team garages.

“Soon you’re gonna end up having a full storage closet at your house just full of stuff that fans have given you.” Logan said. You smiled at that idea.

 “Hopefully I won’t develop carpal tunnel from all the stuff I’m gonna have to sign over the year.” Good thing being a Formula 1 driver consists more of driving cars than signing things.” 

 “You say that now, but just wait until the RB merchandise team sits you down in a room filled with driver cards you have to sign. Your wrist is going to be so sore afterwards.” Logan said. You let out a chuckle. 

 “(Y/N)!” You turned to see Yuki, coming from the RB hospitality, running over to the two of you. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry. They put me in the press conference at the last minute. I had to come early.” Yuki explained.

 “It’s ok Yuki. Logan walked in with me.” You said. You turned back to Logan. “Thank you, by the way. I should probably go see my team.”

“Like I said, it was no bother. I’d be happy to walk the paddock with you anytime.” He said. “I’ll see you two on the track.”

He waved goodbye and then headed to the William’s garage as you headed with Yuki back to the RB hospitality to get ready for the upcoming practice sessions. 

~~~

“Ok (Y/N). We’ve been knocked out of Q1. You are P17.” Your race engineer said through the radio as the qualifying session ended and you slowed your car down for a cool down lap. 

 “Not the result I had hoped for, but it’s something I can improve upon. Did Yuki make it to Q2?” You asked, making your way into the pit lane.

 “Yes, Yuki did make it into Q2.” Your engineer said. 

“That’s good. Hope he can make it into Q3.” You pulled into your designated pitlane and flipped up your visor to let some air into your helmet as the pit crew pulled your car into the garage. 

After changing out of your race suit and fireproofs, you put on a pair of headphones and joined the crew in watching Q2. You were happy to see that Logan made it into Q2 as well, and was secretly hoping he would make it into Q3 along with Yuki. Both of them did good laps during Q2 but Yuki unfortunately was only able to place P11. Logan barely managed to get by into Q3, but couldn’t place any higher and ended up in front of your teammate, placing P10 for tomorrow’s race. After congratulating Yuki on his placement, you left the RB garage to go look for Logan to do the same thing. You didn’t have to look far, as the American driver was exiting the William’s garage as you approached.

“Hey, nice driving today!” You said, giving Logan’s shoulder a congratulatory pat. 

 “Thanks. I’m shocked I was able to make it into Q3. I thought I was going to get knocked out in Q2, I didn’t expect Lance to get his lap time deleted.” Logan said. “Where’d you place?”

 “P17. I wasn’t able to gain enough speed on my last lap to get myself to a higher placement.” You said. “But that’s ok. I just need to overtake the 7 cars in front of me to get to P10 and get into the points. How hard can that be?”

You laughed, your last sentence meaning to be a joke. Logan let out a small chuckle, but he was taking what you said seriously.

 “I think you can do it. But only do it after I’ve overtaken a couple cars myself. I’d also like to get some points during the race.” He said.

 “Deal!” 

~~~

It was officially race day and your nerves seemed to be bouncing as fast as the cars that would be on track soon. You had felt confident throughout the week, being on the track and going over data with the team. But with the race starting in a couple hours, the fact that you were about to debut in your first Formula One race was starting to become very real. 

 “You squeeze that water bottle any tighter, it’s gonna explode.” You were brought out of your spiraling thoughts by Logan as he approached you from the side. Looking down, you did see that the water bottle you were holding was almost ready to burst from the steel grip you had on it.

 “Sorry, I’m just thinking about the race today.” You said, loosening your grip on the bottle.

 In a similar scenario to pre-season testing, the two of you were waiting to start the drivers parade.

 “It’s ok to be nervous about your first race. Every driver is.” He said.

“What if I crash the car?” You asked. Logan shook his head.

 “You won’t.”

“What if I can’t overtake any cars and finish last?”

 “You won’t finish last.”

“What if-”

 “Hey.” Logan placed his hands on your shoulders and made you look at him. “You’re going to be fine. You drove well during testing and practice. You can overtake the cars in front of you. And even if you finish last, so what? It’s your first race. You’re going to make mistakes and that’s ok.” Logan said. His hands on your shoulder and the speech he just gave you seemed to steel your nervous a bit as you took in what he said. 

 “Just try to have fun. Can you promise me that?” Logan asked. He held up his pinkie and you almost laughed at the childlike implications. But the serious look on Logan’s face stopped you.  You linked your pinkie with his and nodded.

 “I promise.”

The two of you ended up staying next to each other during the drivers parade, waving to fans as the truck drove by. Interviews were also happening during the parade, and with you being the new rookie, you had to be interviewed.

“So (Y/N), you're about to make your Formula 1 debut in your first Formula 1 race. How are you feeling?” The interviewer asked.

 “I’m both very nervous and very excited. I’m starting at the back of the grid, but I’m gonna try to do my best.” You said.

“I know, with being the newest addition to the grid, you may feel like you stand out. Besides your teammate Yuki, have there been any other drivers that you’ve gotten to know during pre-season testing or this weekend?”.

 “Logan actually introduced himself to me during pre-season testing and we’ve gotten to know each other a bit.” You told the interviewer. “It feels a bit intimidating being surrounded by these great drivers that I’ve always hoped to have a chance to drive alongside, so I’m really grateful to Logan for being someone on the grid that I can talk to and get to know, besides Yuki of course.”

 “Have you guys talked about anything in particular? Any expectations for your first race?”

“Logan actually gave me a really good pep talk before the drivers parade. It really helped calm my nerves down a bit. I’m gonna take Logan’s advice and try to have fun.” You said with a smile. The interviewer thanked you for your time and moved on to interview a different driver as you made your way back over to Logan. After waving to a bunch of fans, the parade concluded and you and the rest of the drivers got off the truck.

“What are you going to do during this race?” Logan asked you before the two of you departed to get ready for the race.

 “Have fun!” You said. 

“That’s right.” He gave your shoulder a reassuring pat and left for the William’s garage while you headed back to RB, your nerves seemingly having lessened. 

Logan’s pep talk seemed to be exactly what you needed. You ended up finishing the race in P11, just out of the points but only two spots behind Yuki. 

 “(Y/N) that was a fantastic first race! Well done!” Your engineer's voice came through the radio as you waved while driving around the track.

 “Oh my god! Thank you so much! That was so much fun! I couldn’t have done it without you or the team!” You said enthusiastically as you pulled into parc ferme. You sat in the car for a couple seconds, taking in the feeling of making it through your first Formula One race. Then, you took the wheel out and stepped out of the car.

Some of the pit crew workers gave you pats on the back or the shoulder, congratulating you on making it through your first race. As your eyes scanned the pit lane, looking for your team, they landed on the familiar America-decorated helmet of Logan.

 “Logan!” You called as you jogged over to him. His eyes lit up at your approach and met you halfway.

 “Nice one champ! P11 on debut!” He said, raising his hand for a high five before bringing you in for a brief congratulatory hug. 

 “I was so close to getting into points but I couldn’t catch up. You drove amazingly though! Congrats on P5!” You told him.

 “Hey, don’t put yourself down for being “just” out of the points. Next race, you and I are going to be in the top 10.” He said. “Did you have fun?”

 “Yea!” You exclaimed. Both your smiles seemed to grow.

“I told you! Come on, let’s go get weighed and you can tell me everything about the race.” Logan slung his arm over your shoulder as he led you over to the weigh stations. 

The two of you spent the rest of the night recounting each of your guys' events of the race, every overtake and every mistake either of you made. Eventually exhaustion started to hit both of you and the two of you decided to head back to your hotel rooms.

“Thank you.” You said to Logan as you stood infront of your room after Logan offered to walk you back.

 “For what?” He asked. 

“For introducing yourself to me during pre-season testing. I honestly didn’t think I would be able to get to know anyone on the grid this season. All the other drivers seem to know each other really well or are just really intimidating.” You said, fidgeting with your fingers for a bit before looking back up at him “But I’m really glad to say that you're the first friend I’ve made on the grid.”

Logan’s smile seemed to lower and you grew concerned. But he noticed this and quickly change his expression to reassurance.

 “I know how hard it is to make friends in this sport and I also know how isolating it can be. I didn’t want what happened in my rookie season to happen to you.” He told you. “I’m glad that you’re my friend too.”

You smiled, touched by what he said and happy that he considered you a friend as well. You held up your pinkie towards him.

 “Promise that we’ll both be in the points next race?”

He linked your pinkie with his and matched your smile.

 “I promise.”

[luvyeni]

❛LITTLE PINK BOOK❜ ( p. jongsong )

p. schoolmate!jay x fem!reader w. 2.7k

warnings? — 𖦹 ( jay finding your book, your little secret pink book ) !

authors note. first full fic in a minute finally back after week, also thank you for 14k , i appreciate it🫶🏾 🤙🏾🤍

You were the spitting image of girl next door — your dad a business man; your mother a stay at home wife, your family went to church every single sunday, greeted all the older church ladies, smiling when the pinched your cheeks, telling you you’d make a honest wife.

You upheld the same image; getting good grades, having no friends — you kept to yourself , never getting in trouble; boring goody-two shoes if you’d asked other students in your class. So when you dropped your little pink book in front of park jongsong— not noticing as you kept walking, he wasn’t even gonna bother picking it up, but he decided to do something good and return it. “hey!” you didn’t hear him, continuing on down the hall.

he hadn’t seen you for the rest of the day, so he ended up taking the book home with him, tossing it on the table, it opened wide. He didn’t expect to find anything, but he was still curious— what did a girl like you; a little church mouse write about?

Sitting on the edge of the desk, opening the book; reading off a random page — he was so shocked by the contents that he had to read the name over, making sure it was actually yours, he flipped through the pages in awe. Pages upon pages of straight porn is what jay would call it — your every dirty fantasy written down, things you did to yourself, things you want to do to other people, it was a lot — even a confession of the lost of the virginity; god he wished it was him who was the to defile you first.

“fuck.” He curse, getting hard at the words, it was so dirty — then he turned the page, and the first thing he saw just made him harder, his name, he adjusted himself , but it didn’t help as he read the page — ‘I do anything he asked me to’. You were saying that about him , you wrote about what you wanted him to do.

His hands traveled down to his pants, just has his door opened — he quickly tossed the book leaning over to cover up his hard on, his mother walking in; just in time. “you’re home?” he nodded , trying to catch his breath. “yes.”

“why do you look so nice?” he questioned. “get dressed for dinner, we’re meeting your dads new business partner for dinner at their home.” He sighed, he hated these things. “really? do I have to come?” his mom nodded. “yes you do, the y/ln’s are good people, we need to get in their good graces.” He froze at the last name. “y/ln?”

“yeah.” His mom hummed. “they have a daughter, sweet girl she does to your school, do you know her?” he shrugged, trying to keep his cool; yeah he knew you — well he thought he did. “big school probably passed her a couple times.” He said. “well she’s gonna be there tonight so dress nice.” He nodded, she walked out , closing the door leaving him alone.

He picked the book up, sitting it down on the table — finding a outfit for the night. “jay be quick we leave 5!” his mom yelled from the steps. “okay!” he stuffed the book in his pocket with a smirk on his face. “you look nice baby.” He thanked his mom. “be on your best behavior son, your father needs this deal.” He couldn’t promise anything, he definitely had other things in mind. “I promise.”

You sat on your bed, going through your homework; your door opening making you look up. “you wearing that?” your mother said, making you look down at your outfit. “well it’s just dinner with daddy’s co worker.” you said, your mother nodding opting to not fight with you. “I guess so, did you finish your homework? They should be here soon?”

“yes, im just finishing up now.” You said. “good, I’ll call you when you they get here.” She left you, closing the door. You began to put your stuff in your bag — noticing something; your little pink book, it was missing. “oh no.” you said, searching through your bag, dumping everything out — gone, it was gone. “shit.” You couldn’t even remember where you last saw it, you always kept it tight with you.

You began pacing, if anyone found out what you wrote in that book you’d be in trouble — who could even have it? Did anyone have is? If so who? All these thoughts raced through your mind, just as your mother called out for you. “dinner!” you sighed, smoothing out your skirt, you couldn’t let your parents see you shaken up, blowing out a breathe before leaving out your room.

You made your way down the steps — your mother and waiting at the bottom. “there she is, come here baby.” Your mom pulled you to her side, kissing your forehead. “mom.” You whined, the couple in front of you laughing. “these are the parks.” You held your hand out shaking both of them. “nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you as well young lady.” The older man said. “such a pretty daughter, much prettier than you described her.” You smiled, nodding your head. “thank you ma’am.” She smiled. “our son jay is in the car, getting the gift he’ll be in soon.”

Jay? As in park jongsong? You knew him all too well, he was the subject of just about everything recently you wrote about in your journal — if he was the one to find it, you’d die.

“ah! There he is.” Mr.park called for the boy as he walked in the room, holding the bottle of wine. “sorry it took so long.” He bowed to your parents, his eyes honing in on you. “I do know you.” Your breath caught in your throat, how did he know you? He hardly paid attention to anybody else but his friends. “h-how?”

“you’re in my history class, you sit in the back quite as little mouse.” He smiled, you didn’t even notice the look in his eyes — full of hunger. “head always in a book.” Your mom slapped your arm. “I told you about that.” You hissed. “im sorry.”

“lets take a seat.” Your father guided everyone to the eating area; jay took a seat across from you— you can feel his eyes on you. You looked up, eyes locking on you— did he know? You squinted your eyes in confusion and he smiled, before turning to your father. “may i use the restroom?”

“sure son, yn could you show him?” you looked up from the empty plate. “m-me?” you said. “yes you.” You dad laughed along with the parks. “oh ye-yeah sure.” You stood up, jay mimicking you. “fo-follow me.” You walked up the steps, he followed behind you, book in his pocket — like a predator stalking his prey.

You walked to the end of the hall where the bathroom was, pushing the door open. “here you go.” You went to walk away, until he spoke up. “you really don’t know who I am?” you stopped , heart racing. “we-well we do go to the same school.” You said. “that’s it?” he said, reaching in his pocket — revealing the pink book, your heart dropping. “really?”

“h-how do you have that?” you stuttered. “oh this, you dropped it.” He said. “see I was gonna leave it, then i decided to give it back.” He said, stepping closer to you, making you take a step back. “but you didn’t answer, so I took it home — and then I got a little curious.” He said; so he did read it. “for such a cute and innocent face, you surely write about a lot of dirty thing in this notebook.”

He was now pressing you against the wall. “I also no, daddys little girl has been lying about being a virgin, seems like somebody already popped that little cherry of yours.” He smirked. “jay— princess and the things you said about me, damn.” He dry laughed. “for someone who’s never said a word to me, you surely want me to do a lot of things to you.” His hand came up to your face, caressing it. “what was it?” he teased. “let me do whatever I want to you.”

He was pressing against you, you could feel his hard on your stomach. “seems like our little church mouse is hiding many secrets.” You couldn’t get a word out, but the way his hands traveled down your body, his hand burning your exposed skin made your body tingle. “we-we have to go back down stairs.”

He smiled, stepping to the side, letting you walk past. “yeah we do, don’t want daddy to think im doing anything to his precious little girl right.?” You tried to gather yourself, panties sticking uncomfortable to your cunt as— he walked past you, whispering in your ear. “this isn’t over baby.”

You made it back to your seat before jay did, sitting down. “he’ll be down soon.” You sat down, your mom finally bringing the food from the kitchen — jay finally returning, sitting down in his seat, his eyes on you, you looked down at your plate, secretly fanning your warm face.

He didn’t make dinner easier either , using his foot to toy with you, starring at you so intensely that you would stumble over your words every time his parents would ask you a question.

“dinner was lovely, Mrs. yln.” Jay said. “thank you jay such a sweet boy.” If only she knew the thoughts he was having about her sweet daughter. “it was lovely dear, but I believe there is business to disgust.” Your dad said. “mr.park?” your dad stood. “my office?”

“Mrs. park while the men discuss business would you like some wine?” your mother asked. “sure why not, you kids can go play amongst yourselves right.” Jay laughed. “we aren’t 5.” His mom glared at him. “but im sure we can find something to do.” He turned to you, you could see his eyes full of lust. “right?”

They dismissed you both, sending you both upstairs, putting enough trust in both of you— they were wrong; the moment the door closed to your bedroom, he was grabbing your arm, pulling you close to him, pressing his forehead against yours. “j-jay.”

“so pretty.” He whispered, holding his hands in your hand. “what do you want?” your mind went blank. “an-anything.” You whimpered. “yeah, let me do whatever I want?” his other hand coming up to his collar, undoing the tie. “yes, please ” He could see the look in your blown out eyes— you wanted this just as bad as he did. “okay little mouse.”

Taking the tie — you looked so confused. “give me your hands.” you held your hand out. “I believe this was in that little fuck book of yours.” Your ears were hot from embarrassment. “what was it? Ah I believe it said you wanted me to tie your hands behind your back and have my way with you.” He smirked, turned you around, tying your hands. “what else did you write?”

“yo-you read it didn’t you?” you whimpered, just wanting him to touch you. “yeah, but I want to hear you say it.” He said. “so, tell me baby, what did you write.” He pressed his cock against your ass. You whimpered, he left little kisses down your neck. “i-i sa-said i wanted you to fuck my face.” He smirked. “yeah you did.”

“get on your knees.” He commanded, you compiled immediately. “oh baby , it's like you’re used to this.” He tease. “almost like you’ve done this before.” Truth be told, you haven’t — you weren’t a virgin anymore, losing your virginity to you secret boyfriend months prior, but that’s it.

“i-i haven’t.” hearing that made his cock twitch. “so you were writing all those dirty things without having done any of them.” He laughed furthering your embarrassment. “don’t worry, baby I got you.” He undid his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles, along with his underwear, his cock slapping against his stomach, it was much bigger than the ones you seen, wanting to touch but you couldn’t due to the restrictions. “give it a kiss pretty girl.”

He hissed as he felt the shortness of your lips. “fuck, now open up.” You slowly opened your mouth, letting him slide his cock into your wet cavern. “fuck, there we go.” He sighed, slowly pushing himself inside. “just be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth.”

He started off slow, just to ease you into it — speeding up his movements gradually, his tip kissing the back of your throat. “fuck your little throat is sucking me like crazy.” You began to gag around him, unable to grab his thighs, he grabbed your head to steady you. “go-gonna fuck your face.”

Using your throat, throwing his head back. “fuck , gonna cum.” groaned, pushing himself fully down your throat, groaning in pleasure as he came, filling your throat with his warm seed. “oh fuck.” He let your hair go , releasing your head — you coughed, lips swollen and wet. “so nasty.” He tapped his cock on your lips. “looked so fuck out just from sucking cock.”

Thing’s escalated from there, he pulled you up. “what else was is?” you felt him reach under your skirt. “what else did you want me to baby?” your voice was sore, legs wobbly as he pushed you on to the bed, arms still behind your back. “i-i wanted you to fuck me.”

“good girl.” he maneuvered your body into his desired position, your ass up in the air — pulling your panties down, the air hitting your cunt, you whined. “look how wet you are.” He tease your cunt with his fingers. “such a slutty pussy baby, little church mouse wants me to use her.” He slapped your ass, you yelped. “be quite unless you want mommy and daddy to hear how much of a slut you are.”

You felt him shuffling behind you, wiggling your hips. “stay still.” You felt another slap on your ass, you bit down on your plushie, moaning as you felt the warmth of his cock. “daddy would be so disappointed.” He slapped his cock on your cunt, teasing the tip of his cock into your hole. “seeing his daughter tied up — fuck!” he groaned as he fully seethed himself inside you. “j-jay.”

He was much thicker than the guy before, filling you up; moving his hips. “fuck this cunt is so fucking tight.” He squeezed your ass. “fuck!” you squealed, “jay please.” He began to move faster, grabbing your arms as he fucked into you, your shoulders were going to hurt in the morning, but you couldn’t care less with the way he was fucking you. “I should’ve known this innocent church girl was disguise.” He groaned. “that you really were a slut.”

He lifted you up by your wrist, roughly fucking into faster. “something else I read in that book.” He moaned. “you want me to make you squirt.” He cursed, his hand coming around to your clit, rubbing it. “if that’s what you want, then I want you to squirt for me.” He slapped at your cunt. “cum for me.” He whispered into your ear, your eyes rolled to the back of the head, as you came, he released your arms, letting you face plant into your pillows as he continued to plow into you.

“fuck, fuck im gonna cum, where do you want it?” he groaned. “i-inside.” Your voice muffled in the pillow. “please.” He grunted, thrusting a few more times, feeling the warmth of his cum filling you up. “fuck.” He stopped moving, his cock twitching.

He finally undid his tie from your hands, gently laying your lower body down. “good girl.” He said softly. “let’s get you cleaned up yeah?”

“jay!” you heard his mom yelling down the steps. “time to go.” He pulled the covers over your body , still holding the book in his hands. “gonna keep this pretty girl.” He smirked. “got a lot of reading to do.” He said , walking out, forgetting his tie — knowing you’d have to walk up and give it back to him, he could see your shy red face as you approach him, nervously giving him the tie back, almost made him horny again. he was determined to do everything you wanted him to do in the book.

He was gonna turn you into his perfect little slut.

©️LUVYENI

[vagabond-umlaut]

summer collapsed into fall

summary: gojo satoru has no favourite colour. he feels no need nor interest to have one, either. pairing: gojo satoru x reader [unspecified gender] tags: slight undertones of teacher-student relationship BUT there is NO ACTUAL romance between them; can this be called pining? idk; character study like fic of our sweetest satoru *cries* he deserves sm better; fluff but with a mild serving of angst; wc 0.8k notes: fic title inspired by a quote by oscar wilde; fic inspired by this lovely post i saw on pinterest; jjk isn't mine; loosely related to 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate'; tumblr hates me using dividers hence the new fic format ^_^

satoru doesn't really have a favourite colour.

it's never quite crossed his mind. and even if it has, he has never seen it to be important enough to allow it be anything more than a passing thought, a meaningless thought---it is not like his life will be impeded should he not have a favourite colour, nor is anyone ever going to ask him what it is, so why bother?

but now, as you peer up at him expectantly, having already listed your top five favourite colours and why you love them so, satoru wishes he did bother back then.

he decides to feign confusion.

"what?"

"what what?" you shoot back, eager gaze not wavering one bit, "i just told you my favourite colours; aren't you gonna tell me yours? it's fine even if you have just one, sensei."

but is it fine if he has none?

throwing his watch a quick glance, he turns back to you. then exhales a quiet sigh, tired but the farthest from annoyed, when he sees you're still waiting for his reply... shutting the bus window beside, he turns to lean against it, shifting to face you properly.

and sighs, decidedly noisier this time, "this isn't the type of questions one asks their teacher, y'know? they are too casual, meant more for a friend than for a teacher."

"you got to be the last guy to lecture me about etiquette, sensei," you retort without missing a beat, huffing a quiet, amused laugh.

"and after the time i had to bring you to ieiri-san after you passed out from drinking a bit too much: i guess we're a bit more than a teacher and a student, aren't we, sensei?"

not really... no.

while satoru believes your first point to be a debatable topic, he does not think the two of you are anything but a teacher and a student, no matter how much help you extended to him or will in the future---it's not like he isn't grateful, though. he is; he really, really is---it's just his belief that few acts of kindness do not necessarily cause a friendship between people, and he intends to tell you this very clearly---

but finds he cannot. he simply cannot.

not when you say, still so eager but with an undercurrent so achingly soft that even the strongest wonders if he can handle its weight: "i'm not that bad a friend, y'know---you can ask others if you want; they'll tell you i'm a good friend, not the best but a decent one---"

"why don't you guess what's my favourite colour?"

rude, yes, horribly so. satoru knows, he knows this very, very well. but what can a man do but divert when he's being unsettled by words like the ones you addressed to him, by the tenor you employed for him---

although now that he observes you consider his suggestion, the man wonders if diversion was the right tactic or not.

he could have just lied and told you any random color. he could have chosen to be honest and told you he has no favourite colour like you and probably the rest of the world have.

but no, he doesn't.

satoru does not opt either of the above two painfully simple, painfully easy options. choosing instead to ask you to guess what his favourite colour is... satoru never really anticipates he'll end up being this much more unsettled, thanks to his decision of diversion:

if there was a subtext of a haunting softness in your manners before, the sorcerer reckons it is the text now, typed out in bold letters then underlined and highlighted in neon---you too shift to face him, even moving the bag kept in between to your lap and shifting a bit closer, but still a respectable distance away---only to punctuate your effort with a keen stare, much too gentle, at him.

it's scary, he thinks. yeah, undoubtedly scary. but somewhere in the back of his mind, something says it's also comforting.

many eyes look at satoru throughout the day. they gape, they gawk, they study the man and every small aspect of his person with many different kinds of reasons behind them. but before today, there has never been anyone who has regarded him with this much care, that too for a nonsensical cause like yours...

he wonders, just what are you seeing in him?

just who are you seeing in him?

"it's orange, isn't it?" you exclaim abruptly, leaning a touch forwards with a snap of your pointer and thumb. voice too loud. smile too big. eyes too bright, way too bright---

satoru takes not even one whole second to decide:

he now has one favourite colour.

[ambrozjas]

i need ponyboy Curtis headcannons 😭😭😭

ponyboy romantic hc’s ꨄ︎

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

im assuming you meant romantic? but if you didn’t, feel free to drop another request in my inbox if you meant platonic or general hcs :)

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

nothing much, just pony being a lovesick dork

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ i need to get this off my chest because i KNOW its true

❥ but ponyboy would totally use the first letter of your name for a variable in algebra

❥ you can’t prove me wrong

❥ but anyways

❥ another thing about pony, he loves to read

❥ i fixate on this one hc sm in a lot of my fics, BECAUSE ITS JUST SO CUTE???

❥ whenever you guys wanna go out, darry usually has two-bit come with you guys

❥ but he isnt really a good supervisor considering his drinking habits 😭

❥ pony’s the type of guy who’ll write you poems or cheesy love letters but then scrap them and put them in a box that he’ll never give to you

❥ pony gets moody outta nowhere for like no reason

❥ like one second he’ll be okay and then next he’ll be bitchy

❥ he just gets in a weird mood sometimes i guess?

❥ not the biggest fan of pda considering he wants to look tuff, and isnt the most physically affectionate person either?

❥ i dont mean that as in a “i hate cuddling” way, i mean it in like a..

❥ “too-awkward-to-say-anything-and-is-as-stiff-as-a-board” way

❥ i think reading to you while you lay on him is the best option, so that he has something to take his mind off the fact that your body is on / near him

❥ just your face alone will make this man blush lmao

❥ if it’s after the events of the outsiders, ponyboy will never let go of you

❥ yeah, he’d walk you home before

❥ but after everything happened, he’s constantly on lookout

❥ do NOT feed this man bologna 😭‼️

❥ but anyways back to the cute hc’s

❥ steve, soda, n twobit def make fun of you guys whenever you two are just lounging on the couch

❥ sometimes darry’ll even make a teasing remark about it

❥ if you can’t get along w johnny, you cant be w ponyboy

❥ a lot of dates would probably include johnny actually 😭 (and twobit)

❥ you’d just be at the drive-in, so close to ponyboy your thighs would be touching and he’d lean over and ask

“whaddya think so far?”

“‘s alright.”

❥ and then he’d turn over to the other side and ask johnny the same thing

❥ overall, pony’s a sweetheart

❥ has no idea what he’s doing, but a sweetheart

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tell me why my sister told me im legit a fem version of ponyboy curtis when i had read the book 😭

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱