#and yes. his actions are his responsibility.

[motherroam-rs]

Knee Deep in the Passenger Seat

Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

NSFW Ahead Minors DNI 18+!!!

A/N: Thank you always to the best proofreader @totallyunidentified 🫶 (Yes I listened to Chappell Roan whilst writing this, hence the title even though Reader and Joel are in the drivers seat for most of it)

Tags/Warnings: Smut, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Age Difference (Reader is over 21), Anal Play/Anal Fingering, Knife Kink if you squint

Word Count: 3.4k

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

“Fuck, Darlin’,” Joel sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, face set in a stern look, and yet his eyes close in bliss. The hand that was previously gripping the leather of the steering wheel brushes the hair from your face, a curtain that had been shielding the sinful activity in the front seat. Now he can admire the way your lips wrap around the girth of his cock, a mess of saliva and precum dripping down your hand. “Jus’ like that..”

You’re leaning across the gear shift, one hand wrapped around the thick base of his cock as you take him deeper into your mouth. The wet sounds elicited from each bob of your head can be heard over the faint hum of the radio station and Joel’s jaw clenches when you take him too deep. You choke, only slightly, but it’s enough to cause you to pull away with tears streaming down your face, though he’s not prepared to let you give up that easily.

A large, calloused hand threads through your hair, still a mess from where you had been driving with the windows open, and Joel pulls you back down. It’s not an aggressive touch in any way, simply gentle pressure to encourage you. The weeping head of his cock enters your mouth again, but this time, he’s guiding every movement.

“There we go, Honey,” He praises from above you, relaxing more against his seat as he works on slowly rocking his hips up to fuck the wet heat of your mouth. “’S better, isn’t it?”

Your only response comes in the form of a whimper around his thick length, and the vibration of it has him gripping your hair as he curses under his breath.

“Fuck, sweetheart, do that again and I ain’t gonna last much longer.” He chuckles, half serious, still in disbelief at the way his cock disappears into your mouth with each small motion of his hips.

You move your hand to splay open across his thigh, attempting to steady yourself by pressing against the coarse fabric of his jeans. Underneath your palm you can feel as his muscles tense with every single restrained thrust into the soft warmth of your mouth until he can’t take it anymore.

In a quick motion he pulls you back from his cock, and you half expect him to mark your flushed face with his hot cum, evidence that you’re his. But he doesn’t. The older man is muttering something beneath his breath, features pinched in such focus he looks almost pained.

Joel releases your hair, but grips the back of your neck, not prepared to let you go as he brushes his calloused thumb against the smooth skin behind your ear.

“Joel?” You whisper and he nods, seeming to snap out of his trance as you half sit up, still leaning across the middle of the truck.

“I’m not cumming anywhere except for inside you tonight,” The hand slips down to your jaw, tugging you towards him as his other darts out to grip your hip.

“Not in your mouth.” He pulls, rougher than he was before, and you land on his lap, half straddling him in the drivers seat. If you lean back much more you would be pressed to the horn on the driving wheel.

“Not on your face.” He presses a firm kiss to your swollen lips, and you feel the scratch of his stubble with the force of it.

“Not anywhere else,” The hand on your waist dips down to grip your thigh, almost mirroring your earlier action, except his slides up, past the hem of your skirt. You gasp against his mouth when your soaked panties are moved to the side, allowing him to circle your tight entrance with the tip of his middle finger “But in here.”

You had been dragging out this little arrangement of yours ever since you moved in across the street. Late night drives that always ended with tears running down your face, not just from how you took his cock in your mouth, but also from how his thick fingers seemed to reach every part inside you that your own just couldn’t.

But that's as far as these encounters went, until tonight, with his husky voice low in the small gap between you, brown eyes searching your lust dazed expression for any uncertainty. He tilts his head to the side as he rocks his hips up, allowing the head of his cock to glide between your wet folds and rest there, a physical reminder of what he was asking.

“You okay with that, Darlin’?”

As you stare down into the deep brown eyes of your neighbour, every part of your vocabulary fails you. It doesn’t help when he pulls your panties even further to the side, pinning them against the crease of your thigh, and places a hand on your face, tilting your head down to force your focus onto his thick cock that was now coated with your arousal. The head rested just against your clit, so with every small shift of his hips in the cramped front seat of the truck you felt it, and it was driving you crazy.

He tuts, seemingly disappointed with something and the hand pinning your panties to the side slips into his pocket in search for something. “Don’t move sugar, I’d hate to nick you.”

The light from the moon catches on the edge of the blade and you shiver when he trails it up your thigh, teasing before he slides it under the waistband of your panties. Then he pulls, easily slicing through the left side before repeating the motion on the right, freeing you of the material before flicking the switchblade closed and tossing it on the dashboard. “That’s better, can see all of you now, Sugar.”

“Joel,” You plead, fingers twisting into the heavy fabric of his flannel shirt, trying to pull him closer to you, but he doesn’t budge. His face pulls into something between a grin and a smirk, eyes twinkling as he shakes his head.

“No, Darlin’, I wanna hear ya’ say it.”

Joel bucks his hips once more, the contact sending a jolt through your body and he takes the opportunity to grasp the back of your neck, pulling you close so your face is buried in the soft fabric of his shirt. He’d been at work all day and despite the quick shower he’d taken before your drive, you were still intoxicated by the scent of him. Not a body wash, or cologne, but him.

With your new position pressed against his shoulder, he takes advantage by brushing his lips against your ear. You can feel his stubble and the warm breath that fans down your neck with each quickened breath he takes. “Tell me what y’want, Sweetheart,” Another grind of his hips has you melting against him. “Tell me you want my cock buried deep inside that pretty lil’ cunt of yours.”

“Please Joel…” Your whine echoes through the truck, desperate over the sound of Joel’s heavy breathing and the crackling radio. You attempt to move your hips against his cock, but you feel the rumble of a chuckle in his chest as he moves both hands to your hips to stop you.

“Ask nicely, Honey, tell me what y’want.” His voice is teasing in your ear. You’re both still fully clothed, his jeans undone and your panties sliced up beneath your skirt, allowing you to be pressed together. And yet you still felt so far apart. Months of fooling around led up to this, the only thing he was waiting for was the words from your mouth you so desperately wanted to say. Needed to say.

You look into his eyes, the small flashes of grey in his dark hair and beard reminding you of just how different you were in ages. He had a full, settled life, he was a father. You had only recently finished college just before you moved back in with your parents, before you met Joel. It’s what makes you pause; that ever growing feeling of not being enough, of having to sneak away for stolen moments of passion in his truck.

If he were a guy your age, you think you would have ended it after the initial high of the situation wore off, but this was different. Joel was different. You’d had flings in college, sure, but they always ended with you finishing yourself off after they fell asleep. But Joel dragged orgasm after orgasm from you until your legs would shake as he knelt between them in the passenger seat before he even dared to ask for anything in return.

Even now, he’s patient and not in the slightest bit pressuring as he looks up at you. Joel’s not some needy college boy just looking to get in your pants. He’s a man, one who despite keeping your relationship a secret for obvious reasons to both of you, has made you feel nothing but cared for. You could even say loved.

“I want you, Joel,” You place your hands on his face, silencing him with a short kiss before he can protest and tease you further. “I want you inside me,” You rock your hips, shifting upwards so the thick head of his cock is flush against the dripping hole of your entrance.

“I want you to ruin me for anyone else.” The soft glow of the moonlight outside illuminates the desire in his eyes, brighter with every word you say. “Please…”

“Since you asked me so nicely, Honey.” The words roll off his tongue as he pulls you back to him. His hands slip up your skirt, resting on the curve of your ass as he digs his fingers into the plush flesh. “I’ll take care of you real good.”

You gasp when you feel even just the tip enter, he’s thicker than you expected. He’d worked you open on his fingers earlier, sure, but it still didn’t take away just how long it had been since you slept with someone. Let alone the fact it had only been a couple of inexperienced college boys who were nowhere close to the size of Joel.

“I can’t, Joel, ‘s too much…” You curse, pressing your forehead to his as you begin to tighten around his girth, barely at the halfway point. Your legs almost shake with the effort as you hold yourself up, not confident in your ability to take any more of him.

“Shh, Sweetheart, y’can take it for me, isn’t that right?” He peppers soft kisses to your face as one hand slips away from your ass. Two fingers draw languid circles on your throbbing clit, eliciting a whine from you as he uses his other hand to force you down further onto his cock. It’s both too much and not enough at the same time as you stretch around him, you’d rather die than pull yourself away now.

“Y-yes…” The words slip out as if they have their own free will. You aren’t certain in your own capabilities, but if he tells you that you can take it, you sure as hell know you aren’t going to let him down.

“Atta girl, I’ve got ya.” His voice is deep, nothing like you’ve heard before as he eases you further onto his cock, silencing every whine with a tender kiss. Joel is nothing if not a patient man, especially when it comes to you. By the time he’s fully inside, you’re digging your nails into his shoulders, trying not to fight against the overwhelming sensation. Joel strokes your back through your t-shirt, a form of gentle reassurance as you come to the conclusion your college experience with boys was nothing in comparison to the man beneath you.

“How’s it feel?” He presses kisses along your jaw, giving you some space to breathe as he keeps you there, your body still in his lap as you adjust to the feeling of his cock stretching you.

“Good… Really good.” You whisper, every syllable was a conscious effort as he begins to grind his hips up, starting with slow movements. Wet sounds fill the truck, each thrust punctuated by a needy whine that you never could have imagined making until you met Joel.

“I know, honey, I know.” Joel praises, a small smirk on his lips as if he knows just how close to the brink he’s pushing you with each slight thrust of his cock. “Jus’ keep being good for me.”

You can’t even respond, fixated by the way his cock is nestled inside you, grinding against that one place it seems only he was ever able to find. Your hands grip his shoulders as you rest your forehead against his, lips parted and you close your eyes, focusing on the pleasure.

“Right there?” The fingers on your clit press harder as he simultaneously forces you down as he thrusts up, continuing to hit that same spot inside of you which makes you see stars.

“Fuck, Joel!” You cry with a desperate nod, thighs tensing as you ride him, encouraged by his guidance. “Right there, pleasepleaseplease-“

“Filthy language, honey, any other time and I’d punish you for that,” He chuckles teasingly, but makes no sign of stopping. “Luckily for you I’ll let it slide this once.”

The windows have fogged and your skin is coated with a sheen of sweat that makes your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin as you rock your hips on his cock. Joel recognises the familiar moans that indicate just how close you are to coming undone for him and he takes over once more.

“Open your eyes, sugar, look at me.” You obey with no hesitation, and he rewards the obedience with a rough kiss, teeth tugging on your lower lip.

“Such a pretty sight, Darlin’, you gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock, hm?” He drives his hips upwards, harder, fingers circling your clit faster. He wears a teasing expression but you can see the glint of determination in his eyes as he forces you to look at him when you begin to unravel. You writhe on top of him, kept in place by the pleasure every inch of contact with him is giving you. You think you’re crying but you’re so lost in him that you can’t be entirely sure of anything except for his presence.

“That’s it, there you go, easy girl.” He moves slower as you slump against his chest, robbed of the ability to support your own body. But you don’t need to, he’s got you. He always does.

After a short moment to allow you to catch your breath, his fingers ghost over your over sensitive clit and you can’t help the choked moan as you shake your head. You were lucky if you ever got to have an orgasm before you met him, and yet he would drag them out of you one after another until your legs would shake and you only had just enough energy to walk up the driveway to your house.

“It’s okay, you can give me ‘nother, I know y’can.”

It’s not long after he starts moving again when you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt as you feel it. The hand that had been guiding your hip has moved on your ass, just enough that you feel his finger dip down to coat itself in your slick that dripped down between you, before trailing up to circle the tight hole.

He must notice the way your breath hitches, your movements faltering with uncertainty as he pulls back, breaking your kiss. Your ex boyfriend in college brought up this same topic constantly, often falling into childish annoyance when you said you weren’t interested in trying it. Really, you just knew the outcome of it all, of college boys chasing their own pleasure without much of a care for the girls they were with.

But somehow with Joel it was different. You trusted him to not take what he wanted from you, but to instead give you what you needed.

“Relax, darlin’, you’ll like it.” He presses his lips to your forehead, giving you an opportunity to back out. But you don’t. You whine when his fingers leave your clit for a moment, instead focusing on guiding the movement of your body on his cock.

“Shh, honey, let me take care of you.” True to his words, he angles your hips so that you’re now grinding your clit against the base of his cock and you melt against him with a moan. Even now, the older man still had your pleasure at the front of his mind and it only made you tighten involuntarily around him, forcing a moan from his throat.

Joel recovers quickly, pressing another kiss to your temple. His warm breath tickles your ear and you fight the shiver threatening to run through your body. His thick finger stops its teasing motions, and your lips are recaptured with his own when he presses his finger into you, swallowing your gasp.

“Relax,” Joel encourages as you nod, reluctantly relaxing against the intrusion and fuck, you’re glad you do. You’re surprised, you half expected it to hurt as he sinks his finger in, all the way down to the knuckle. You expected not to like it, you didn’t expect the jolt of pleasure that has you arching your body against his.

“That’s it, see, not so bad is it?” You shake your head as he begins to thrust his finger in time with both the thrust of his cock and circle of his fingers over your clit. You have no idea how he can be this controlled, this in sync, when you’re falling to pieces just inches away as he watches with a relaxed smile. No trace of the lost composure from earlier.

“Easy, sugar,” He chastises when you grind your own hips faster, breaking his even rhythm. He lands a light slap against your cunt “There’s no rush.”

“Think you can take another, honey?” For a brief moment you’re confused, thinking he means another orgasm but the question is clarified when you feel the stretch of another finger entering your ass, shallowly thrusting the pair of them until he’s sure he can sink them entirely inside without resistance.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ good for me,” He thrusts his cock inside you harder as he works your ass with his two digits and your clit with the pads of his fingertips. His composure begins slipping when your cunt flutters as he ruins you. He's so big, not just physically, his entire presence envelops you, smothering out the rest of the world. “Taking me so well ‘n letting me in that pretty lil’ ass of yours.”

His sweet words are dripping with pure filth in your ear, a reminder of who is in control of you and you can’t even deny it. “‘M all yours Joel, all yours…”

This response seems to please him because a deeply possessive sound comes from his throat before he picks up the pace of his thrusts. Joel grunts, frustrated by how he’s restricted from the way he truly wants to fuck you. He wants you screaming, tangled in his bedsheets as you soak them, but he’d have to settle for this.

“Where?” His question is strangled, muffled by the sound of the radio and melody of your moans. There’s doubt in his voice, like he already knows the course of action he’s supposed to choose, and yet he can’t drag himself away from you unless you ask him to.

Thankfully for him, you don’t want that either.

“Inside, Joel-“ He thrusts harder and you practically sob the request, a shaking mess as you tighten around his cock and fingers one last time. “Please, Joel!” You whimper desperately as you gush around him, coating his cock and the front of his jeans in your release as he captures your mouth in a rough kiss.

His fingers have withdrawn from your ass now as he plants both hands on your hips, keeping you firmly pressed against him while cock pulses, releasing himself deep inside you. He continues to thrust, stuttering as he groans against your mouth, each movement causing his cum to leak out of you and on to him. But he doesn’t care, all he wants is you.

“Good early birthday present?” You pull away to rest your forehead against his once more, laughing weakly. You allow your eyes to flutter closed, suddenly tired from the pleasure he’s drawn out of you this evening.

“The best, Darlin’.”

[dollypopup]

I get why people would think it but

Colin is NOT a rake. Colin is a young man trying to figure out his identity and what he likes sexually and trying to understand what the men of his society talk about and do. He's not out here messing around with women just to string them along and then leave them. He's trying to fit in and has been made fun of for being a virgin so yeah, he rectifies that by having sex, but just because he slept with a few women, that doesn't make him a rake? You wanna know who an actual rake in the series is?

Fife.

Because what the fuck happened to Miss Goring? I think about her sometimes and my heart aches for her. Her first season out, she's an 18 year old woman, and an older, titled man of her society who she assumes to be a proper gentleman makes her believe their relationship can actually be something, messes around with her the entire season, and then fucks her in a linen closet at a ball only to....what? Come back the next year with absolutely no mention of her whatsoever. Did she get pregnant? Was sent off in disgrace? Have to marry someone else?

Fife is a 30 year old man who has a bad habit of hounding after young, vulnerable women in his society. He fucks them and leaves them. He's a rake. Colin? Colin is not even close to that. Say what you will about the brothel scenes, but that IS the responsible place for a man of his time to go to for sex. Please stop demonizing sex work. Yes, many of these women are in that line of work because of less than savory reasons, but Colin is not taking advantage of them. He is paying for a service and they are providing that service. It is transactional, and he is the LEAST of their concerns in terms of clientele. A kind, handsome man who pays well and is discrete? Yeah, they're fine with him.

Colin has a history of respecting women. He respected Marina all throughout their courtship, and even after. I know some people sneer at him coming to see Marina, but please keep in mind she is a woman on her own who married a stranger far away from ANYONE who knew her. Colin was worried about Daphne when she came to him, asking if anything happened when she was away and clearly ready to fight for her, so of course he's worried about Marina. Partly he visits her for his own closure, but also like....y'all that's a WELLNESS visit. He's concerned that she's unhappy, but ultimately leaves because she's not hurt and that she tells him to. Colin listens to 'no' from the women around him. He asks for permission from them. He waited for Penelope's consent sexually, but he also didn't even get into the carriage until she allowed him. He even asks "Please, let me in".

Colin lives in a time when women do not have many rights, and he listens to the women around him even more than the men. He is the only one of his siblings to ask for his mum's advice and immediately takes it and takes action. He brings Eloise back a feminist text from his travels, even after she's besmirched as a radical, because he supports her pursuits. In season 2, he also knew of her going to the printers and didn't say anything. He has always respected and cared for Penelope. He hasn't insulted a single woman in his vicinity. He doesn't make the women he flirts with feel bad about themselves, or feel less, but compliments them, all whilst keeping respectable distance so as not to make them think he's interested in marrying them. He doesn't dance with any woman but Penelope in that season.

Colin isn't a rake. He's not a fuckboy. He's trying to act like he is, emulating the circle of his society, but that doesn't mean he is. I swear people just WANT to misinterpret him because that's the easiest way, but Colin is a character who doesn't lend well to surface level readings. He's a nuanced, gentle hearted character who has been looked down on for his sensitivity. He's a deeply relatable person because who of us haven't pretended to be accepted? Especially if we've been bullied or excluded. I know I have. Put on a persona for the sake of survival. And he does so for what? A few weeks? That does not a fuckboy make.

Just say you don't want to understand him and move along because those of us who get him GET HIM. And I'm grateful for a character like Colin.

He's the best man in the series by an entire mile and you can't change my mind about that.

[formulawolff]

vii. the in-between - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 5.2k

warnings: buckle up y’all cause we go. angst, cursing, size kink, edging, praise kink, FUCKING, LOTS OF FUCKING. toto being a simp, banter, yearning, mentions of divorce, mentions of alcohol use, creampie, teasing, yadayadayada… y’all know what’s about to go down

prev. | next.

“it’s fine, mom. really.” 

bringing a hand to your temple, you begin to massage, attempting to alleviate the accumulated pressure. 

“i mean, yeah, i’m not in trouble or anything. as far as i know, the fia is letting me race in suzuka. it was my first offense so they dropped the investigation. as long as i publicly apologize for my actions, everything will be cleared up.” 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

do you know how many people have asked me about you? baby, people approach me at the goddamn grocery store asking me why you beat up that poor little british boy! he’s built like a twig for god’s sake! 

rolling your eyes, you lean back in your chair, keeping the phone pressed against your ear, “mom, his name is george russell. he drives for mercedes. he’s not some little boy.” 

all right, all right. well maybe he needs to come over for some dinner or something. get some meat on those bones. anyway, did i tell you that your father has been scouring ebay trying to purchase sports cards with your car on it? well, he’s found ones with you on them too. he wants to make a booklet of his favorite kiddo. 

with that discovery, your heart swells, “is he really? tell him to look up topps chrome cards. those are the best ones. since i’m not as popular as max or lewis, they should be pretty cheap. and mom, i’m your only kiddo.” 

that’s why we’re so proud of you. even if you get into fist fights, we still love you bunches. when do you think you’ll come home? your dad wants to take you out in his baby. he’s made some modifications to it. he thinks you’ll appreciate it more than i will. 

“where is dad? is he asleep?” 

yes honey. he’s asleep. snoring away on the couch with the dogs. i wish we could give you a taste of home somehow. maybe i could have a care package sent to japan? 

“mom,” you exhale, “that would be so much money. don’t worry about it. were you guys considering flying out for miami?” 

oh yes, about that! you perk up in your chair, anticipating your mom’s response. we are going to be there. we can’t wait to see you. we miss you so much. it’s so quiet when you’re not home. will i be able to meet some of your coworkers? 

letting you a giggle, you shake your head, “mom. they’re my fellow drivers. we’re not coworkers. but yeah, i could probably introduce you to a few of them. daniel wants to meet you two.” 

what about that handsome fellow with the bright blue eyes? he drives for redbull! and yes, i would love to meet daniel. 

“max verstappen?” you arch a brow, “we’d have to see about that one. he’s a very busy man.” 

okay, okay. the line cuts out briefly. hey honey, i think i need to head to bed. i love you so much. keep in touch, okay? we’ll see you in a few short weeks. 

nibbling on your lower lip, you nod, “i love you too, mom. tell dad i love him. i miss you guys. i can’t wait to see you.” 

me either. goodnight honey, or good morning or afternoon or whatever time it is over there. i’ll text you when i wake up! love you. 

“love you,” your lip trembles, hands clamming up as you the line goes silent. 

fuck, were you homesick. 

you just had to make it a few more weeks. then, you could finally reunite with your parents in miami. although you knew you would be so fucking busy, you would make time. 

you always did when it came to your parents. 

also, you had another plan brewing as you scroll through your contact list, searching for a certain dutch assassin. a certain dutch man who happened to be a three-time world champion. 

somehow, someway, your mom was going to meet max verstappen. 

you had to make that happen. 

you had to. 

currently, you were sitting on the edge of a bed in a suite in london, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your driver. a decently-sized suitcase sat near the door, a carry-on stacked on top. 

this driver was provided specific instructions to transport you from london to brackley, dropping you off at the door of a certain team principal’s home. 

yet, you were well aware that it wasn’t going to be just any old home. 

this man was billionaire, after all. 

buzzing in your grasp, your phone notifies you of a new text. 

from none other than toto wolff. 

the driver is on the elevator, heading up towards your suite. DO NOT handle your bags. he will do that for you. i don’t want you to fuss over a single thing. from there, he will bring you here, where he will punch in the code for the gate. i will be waiting for you at the door. 

i can’t wait to see you, schatzi. i miss your beautiful face and sweet laughter. 

oh, and i can’t wait to kiss you. 

(and yes, i am pacing around in my office as i type this. i can’t focus on anything else but your arrival) 

with sazuka quickly approaching next week, you would only have a couple of days with the team principal before you had to part ways. he would have prep, meetings, press, where he would then fly out to sazuka. meanwhile, you would have to catch a flight, meet with your team, prep, and potentially meet with press, fans, and the other drivers. 

additionally, you had to address the incident that occurred last week at the australian grand prix. to your surprise, the fia had dismissed the investigation, finding no substantial evidence that the two of you needed to be punished. due to the nature of the accident, george was not punished, as he did no illegal maneuvers or intentionally attempted to take you out of the race. 

on the other hand, the fia was adamant that if this happened again, you were going to face consequences. you would have to shell out a pretty penny for fines, and then you would be immediately disqualified from three future races, deeming you unable to participate.

although they were merciful, the fia made it very clear that since it was your first offense, they were going to be fair.. 

however, if there was a next time, they would not be so kind. 

a crisp knock rang out, startling you. 

springing to your feet, you open the door, an older man smiling in greeting. 

“you must be golden girl,” sticking out his right hand, he dips his head, “i’m theodore. i’ll be your driver to brackley this evening. i am here to not only be your escort, but to tend to anything you may need. mr. wolff made it very clear that you were not to fret over a single thing.”

“good morning,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile as you shake his hand, “thank you. i’m eager to see the english countryside.”

“i’ll handle your bags ma’am,” theodore clears his throat, “you just take it easy.”

“will do,” you nod, “how long is the drive?”

“about an hour and a half,” theodore responds curtly, slinging your carry-on around his shoulder, “don’t worry, it’s not too boring. follow me this way, my lady. our chariot awaits!”

following him down the hall, he presses the button for the elevator. there’s a silence between you, but not an uncomfortable one. theodore’s presence was warm, inviting even.

upon meeting him, you understood why he was toto’s right-hand driver. once he escorted you to the car, he opens the door for you, ushering you inside. when you settle into the backseat, you notice the glint of a redbull can, along with your favorite snacks and candy. 

“mr. wolff wanted to ensure you wouldn’t be hungry,” theodore states as he climbs into the driver’s seat, pressing the button for the ignition, “he told me that you can be a little cranky if you don’t have any snacks.”

“oh? he said that?” a giggle bubbles up in your throat, “did he say anything else about me?”

“oh yes,” theodore chuckles, turning the gear shift, “he’s told me all about you. to be quite frank, he hasn’t shut up about you the last week or so.”

“so you know who i am?”

“of course i do,” theodore nods, flashing you a grin in the rearview mirror, “you’re one of the best formula one drivers on the grid. you drive for williams racing. you’ve only won one grand prix, but i believe you’ll win a few more this season. your hometown is in yuma, arizona. you’re twenty-two years old, and from what toto has shared with me, you have a very bright future ahead.”

“are you a formula one fan?” you arch a brow, punching open the can of redbull. 

“who isn’t?” he shrugs, “well, ms. golden girl, we are going to begin our journey. if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to speak up. if you’d like, you can tell me a little bit more about yourself. we will have plenty of time.”

as theodore promised, the drive to brackley was painless. yet, as the car pulls up to the gate, your heart skips a beat.

this was no quaint english cottage.

toto’s brackley residence was a sleek and sprawling two-story home, a black and white exterior with massive, thick windows. your jaw almost drops, and theodore notices, letting out a hearty laugh, “don’t act so shocked, golden girl. i’m sure you’re aware toto is a very wealthy man.”

“i thought he would have kept things somewhat simple.”

“oh love,” theodore shakes his head, “you and i both know that toto is anything but simple.”

rolling down the window, theodore punches in a code, the gate sliding open. as the car lurches up the drive, your heart thumps in your rib-cage, blood roaring in your ears. 

this was really happening. 

you were really staying with toto. 

“nervous?” theodore senses the shift in energy, “you have no reason to be nervous. he’s been anticipating your arrival. he’ll be happy to see you.”

“thank you,” you manage to muster a meek smile, “i-i just didn’t think we would get this far.”

“well savor the time together. time flies, especially in our world. one day you’re at a track, the next you’re in another country. he adores you, golden girl. so don’t you fret about that. just relax, and enjoy your time. i will be here in a couple of days to bring you to the airport for your departure to sazuka.” 

“thank you,” at his words, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief, “i look forward to our next drive together!”

“as do i,” shifting the gears, theodore puts the car in park, slipping out of the driver’s seat, “we have arrived. let me get your bags.”

he strolls over to your door, opening it as you clamber out, stretching your sore legs.

no matter how much time you spent in a car, there was always that persisting stiffness. 

you’d probably need a double-knee replacement by the time you were forty, but that was the least of your worries. 

out of the corner of your eye, you notice a figure strolling towards the car. with the large stature, you knew it could only be one particular individual. 

he’s dressed in a royal blue button-up, paired with khaki slacks. on his feet are earth-toned dress shoes. the blue hue of the button-up complements his dark hair, almost brightening his features, giving them a youthful glow. tufts of his hair are all over as the wind blows. 

yet, he looks as gorgeous as ever, his toned muscles rippling under the thin fabric of the button-up. 

“welcome to brackley schatzi,” the grin enveloping his face is radiant, “i hope the drive wasn’t too bad.”

“not at all,” you shake your head, the team principal nearly sucking the wind out of your lungs as he wraps his arms around you, squishing you against his chest. 

“i missed you so much,” tender lips connect with your cheek, “good afternoon, theo! did she behave herself?”

“of course,” theodore promptly places your bag next to the entrance, suitcase in tow, “i have another commitment here soon, mr. wolff. i hope it is all right i placed her bags next to the door?” 

“don’t worry about it,” toto’s fingers find yours, intertwining them together, “i’ll get them. please drive safe, theo.”

“i will, mr. wolff,” theodore dips his head, turning to you, he takes your hand, shaking it, “it was lovely to meet you. i look forward to our next meeting, golden girl. enjoy your time together, you two!”

“we will,” toto squeezes your hand, “goodbye, theo.”

“goodbye, mr. wolff!” theodore spins on his heel, making his way to the car, “behave, you two!”

in response, toto gives a thumbs up, theodore slipping back into the driver’s seat. as he peels off, toto shifts his body, facing you.

“charming, isn’t he?”

“he’s great! kept me entertained the whole drive!”

“i told him you have a short attention span so to keep you occupied,” toto shooks you a wink, earning an eye roll. 

“i can’t stand you.”

“you’re standing right now, aren’t you?” his chuckle is light, “come, let’s head on in. i have lunch waiting for us.”

“you made me lunch?” 

“yes, i’m going to drive you all the way out here just so starve you,” he scoffs, yet his tone says otherwise, “i have food ready. and wine, if you want some.”

“don’t tell me you want to get me drunk so i’ll confess all my secrets.”

“consider that my new goal for the afternoon,” toto grabs your bag, along with your suitcase. pushing open the door, he clears his throat, “welcome to my home away from home.”

as you step in the entrance, your eyes widen, lips parting.  

the space was truly a reflection of toto. refined and elegant, with a hints of charm. the marble floors gleam under the soft lighting, rays of sun shining through the vast windows. the walls were covered in a menagerie of decor, from pieces of art to mercedes memorabilia. it was not the typical billionaire’s home, where the air felt sterile and cold. 

this place was warm and full of life, coaxing you to stay. 

“cat got your tongue?” his breath fans against your ear, a hand gliding along your back, “follow me, schatzi.”

“your home is beautiful.”

glancing over his shoulder, you are met with his gorgeous smile, dimples and all, “thank you, love. i’m glad you like it.”

trailing behind the austrian, you stroll down a long hallway, turning into the last room on the left. toto places your bag and suitcase next to a glass door, “this is my bedroom. you’ll be staying here with me.”

“straight to the bedroom huh?” you fold your arms across your chest, teasing, “you just couldn’t wait–”

“come here,” toto growls, hands grasping your wrists, bringing you in, “no, i can’t wait.”

looking up, you match his gaze, cocking your head, “what are you going to do about it?”

at your rebuttal, toto’s eyes narrow, “what do you think i’m going to do?”

“fuck me.”

“hmmmm,” he hums, leaning in, “you’re right, schatzi. i am going to fuck you. i’m going to fuck you till you’re weeping me for me to stop.”

“weeping?” your hands roam, tugging on his button-up, “i’d like to see you try.”

“oh schatzi,” he tsks, “you don’t know what you’re in for.”

“show me then.”

“i will,” lips ghost over yours, “i’ll show you how badly i missed you baby.”

as he kisses you, it’s tender at first, brimmed with the sweetness of reunion. one of his hands wraps around the base of your neck, tilting your head back as his tongue gains access to your mouth, the tang of redbull tracing your mouth. yet, as you whimper, a fiery hunger sets ablaze.

fuck, he missed you. 

he missed you more than he liked to admit.

tension hangs thick, clouding the space as his mouth places sloppy, wet kisses down your jawline, finding your neck. nipping gently, it takes every fiber in his being to resist the urge to just mark you all over. to leave marks where they could see. to make them wonder who was doing this to you.

but he couldn’t. not there. 

in response, your hips buck forward, grinding against his. toto groans, his head rolling back. 

there was not a single coherent thought in his mind. 

only lust. and fuck, was it consuming him whole. 

scooping you into his arms, he brings you over to the bed, your back meeting with the plush mattress. 

“i can’t wait,” he pants, chest heaving, “i can’t wait any longer. i need you.”

“then take me,” your words drip like honey, oh so sweet, “make me yours, toto.”

jesus fucking christ.

he was going to fuck the shit out of you. right here, right now.

there was no going back. 

he ached for it. he yearned for it. the fantasy flooded his dreams at night.

the things he wanted to do to you? 

downright filthy. sinful, even 

he couldn’t lose his inhibitions. not yet. he had to hang on. 

however, at this point, toto was hanging on by a thread. 

peeling your leggings and panties off, he tosses them to the floor, “sit up.”

you obey, nearly trembling with anticipation as fingertips hook the hem of your crewneck, pulling it over your head. nimbly, he hovers over you, finding the clasps of your bra. he undoes them, a crimson hue dusting his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you completely naked beneath him. 

god, you were absolutely breathtaking. 

every inch of you was stunning. every scar. every mole. every freckle. every stretch mark. 

you were so fucking beautiful. 

his hands fly to his button-up, eager for what was to come. 

yet, your hands find his, “let me.”

toto bites his tongue as you carefully undo the buttons of his shirt, his cock twitching, aching for your touch as your fingers delve towards his belt. you unbuckle it, tilting your head back, batting your thick lashes.

fuck. fuck. fuck. 

could this moment last forever? 

“toto.”

“yes?”

“i-i don’t know if i can take it all,” there’s apprehension inflected in your tone, almost as if you were embarrassed, “to be honest, i’ve never–”

oh god. 

this was going to ruin him.

just like he was going to ruin you.

“don’t worry,” a tender hand cups your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing your cheekbone, “i’ll go slow. i won’t make you take it all. i’ll take care of you baby, i promise.”

you nod, lips pursed as you tug on his slacks, hooking the hem of his boxers, “you’re just so fucking big. like holy shit.”

pride swells within the austrian for a moment, a chuckle rumbling in his chest, “i promise you that it’s not as big as you think.”

“can i see for myself?” the question is so innocent, so pure. 

yeah, he was going to ruin you.

he was going to make a mess out of you. 

“lay down schatzi,” he orders, authority oozing into the words. 

kicking off his slacks, he curses slightly as his boxers stick around one of his ankles. this wasn’t going to be perfect, but he wanted it to be. for you. 

he wanted this to be a moment you remembered for the rest of your life. he wanted this memory to fill your thoughts every second of every day. he wanted you to touch yourself to this, desperate and oh so wet, throbbing for him. yearning for his mouth. for his touch. for him.

carefully, he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. as you look down, you can feel his gaze searing into you, burning right through. 

his cock was far bigger than your fantasies. it was thick, approximately eight or nine inches. you couldn’t tell. his tip was tinged pink, the glisten of precum catching in the light. veins wrapped around the length, throbbing as your hand wrapped around its base.

“fuck,” as he moans, you lick your lips, realizing how much you loved the sound that just filled your ears, “let me feel you, please.”

“please toto.”

swallowing thickly, he inhales sharply as he positions his tip at your entrance. applying pressure, a whimper rings out as he pushes in, your walls stretching. 

your pussy was heaven. absolutely perfect as it wrapped around his cock, begging for more as he pushed further and further. you were absolutely drenched, the juices slick and oh so sickeningly sweet. he didn’t even have to taste you to know. he just knew you were sweet. like pure ambrosia. 

perhaps he could get a taste.

“toto,” your lashes flutter, his name so perfect from your lips, “you feel–”

“your pussy is perfect,” he finds a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of your tight hole, “absolutely perfect baby. fuck, you’re perfect.”

skin connects with skin, the temperature of the room elevated as his hands found yours, pinning them to the bed. lips collide, the kisses desperate, hungry and bursting with need. as he picks up the pace, moans fill his mouth. 

fuck, it felt like he was going to split you into two. 

“t-toto,” there it was again, his name. music to his ears.

“yes baby?” a sheen of sweat clings to his forehead, tufts of hair dampened, “what is it? does it hurt? do you need me to slow down?”

“no. fuck me. just fuck me.”

oh god. 

oh, fuck. 

his cock twitches, the pleasure building in your abdomen as the tip brushes your g-spot, back arching, begging to be closer. closer to him.

could you be any closer to him in this moment? was it even possible?

before you know it, his arms wrap around your frame, picking you up off the mattress. he holds you close to his chest, one hand holding your head, cupping the back of your skull. the other remains on your lower back, gripping you tightly as the new angle sends bliss rippling all throughout your body.

he fucks you, and god there was no holding back. his cock was pounding into you now, showing no mercy. your ass slaps against his thighs, filthy noises flooding the space. 

as you bounce, you tense, your walls practically squeezing him, “toto, oh my god, i’m going–”

“good girl,” his coos, “be a good girl, baby. cum for me.”

as you get closer and closer, toto watches. fuck, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly. the way hairs clung to your forehead. the way your lashes fluttered. all he could see was pleasure. pure, intense pleasure. 

you unravel, coming undone. 

that sight alone was enough to make him cum.

“come here,” toto hisses through gritted teeth, “come here baby.”

the moment his lips mold with yours, you feel his cock throb, pumping threads of cum into your weeping hole. your muscles spasm, shuddering as he pulls out. 

the two of you study one another for a moment, catching your breath. fingertips brush stray hairs from your temple. 

“i’m sorry.”

“for?” you nuzzle into his collarbone, relishing the way his cologne lingered, mixing with his natural scent. 

“going too far.”

“that was not too far.”

tenderly, the austrian pulls you down with him, letting out a sigh as his head hits the pillow. your head remains against his chest, admiring the definition and tone for a moment. he peppers kisses along your forehead, browbone, and cheeks. 

“if i ever go too far, let me know.”

“i think we’re both in too deep,” you murmur, “you’re lucky you had the blinds drawn.” 

“that would be something,” his chest vibrates as he speaks, “could you imagine? some random mercedes intern witnessing the team principal fucking the most beautiful woman on the planet?”

however, a gleam catches your eye.

on his left ring finger, your heart sinks as you notice the ring. 

his wedding band.

toto senses your silence, the way you tensed up against him, “what is it schatzi?”

“why are you still wearing your wedding band?”

oh, so you had noticed.

“it’s complicated.”

“complicated?” your voice falters as you prop yourself up with your elbow so you could meet his gaze, “you’re wearing your fucking wedding ring. it’s not that complicated.”

“yes, i am, wearing my ring,” he exhales, “would you prefer me to take it off? it has no meaning anymore. susie and i are divorced. we finalized it last december. when we signed the papers, we made a mutual agreement to wear our wedding bands when we were in the public eye. it keeps the speculations at bay. it’s mostly for the sake of my children. and for her sake. we respect one another and i would hate for her hard work to be diminished by rumors and gossip.”

although his words were sincere, your heart races still, anxiety a swirling torrent in your stomach, “how long have you been separated?”

“almost three years. we separated in july of 2021.” 

“oh,” you suck in a breath, shame washing over you, “i-i’m sorry for the sudden questions. i just–”

“it would complicate your feelings for me. and no one wants too mess around with a married man. i get it baby, i really do.”

although he provided a very base-level explanation of his failed marriage, toto was more than willing to go into more depth. that is, if you wanted. more than anything, he wanted you to know. that aspect was becoming increasingly frustrating, as the team principal tried to maintain that dominant, bold, persona.

you were making him weak. his little soft spot. 

well, not so little these days. 

“i cannot stand how well you read me,” rolling your eyes, you turn your back to him.

“don’t turn your back on me now,” he tsks, “do you believe me, schatzi?”

“i don’t think you could ever lie to me.”

“i couldn’t,” toto leans over, placing soft kisses all over your shoulders, “i think it would destroy me. the guilt would be too much to bear.”

“if we’re spilling secrets now,” you roll over, face-to-face once again, “i have another question for you.”

“all right.”

“why did you approach james about my contract behind my back?” 

for once, the team principal is caught by surprise, his heart skipping a beat. 

the hurt plastered across your features is clear, your brows furrowed, eyes narrowed. there’s a glimmer of anguish in their depths, slightly glossy from the threat of tears. 

“i wanted to gauge how he felt if you were to leave williams,” that was the truth, really, no other intentions behind it, “he was not too keen to discuss it, but i just wanted to know how upset he would be if you were to sign with another team. i did it for you, to soften the blow.”

“soften the blow?”

“yes,” toto nods, “to soften the blow when you tell him you’re leaving williams and signing with mercedes.”

“you don’t know that for–”

“but i do,” his voice hardens, “i do know. we can’t just lay here and deny that in your heart, you want to be with me at mercedes. you’ve made the decision already. you just haven’t figured out how you’re going to approach james, alex, or your team.”

biting your tongue, you turn your head, averting his gaze.

toto was right. you had made your decision. 

it was just a matter of time before you had to face the facts. 

“i’m right, aren’t i?” 

“you are,” you huff, squeezing your eyes shut, “i-i just don’t know how to tell everyone. i don’t know how to tell my parents. i don’t know how to bring it up to james. it’s just so.. fuck. it’s so fucking overwhelming to think about.”

“then let me help you.”

“how?” you inquire, “how would you possibly do that?”

“i’ll keep my distance from here on out, but i will help you draft up a letter that you can give to james. or, i can help you practice what you’re going to say. just let me help you schatzi,” fingers grasp your chin, turning your head. 

“you hear me? i’ll help you.”

“can we just worry about it later?” 

“of course,” strong arms envelop your frame, drawing you in against his body, “for now, we can snuggle. would you like that?”

“i would.”

your tough exterior completely crumbles as his mouth hovers by your ear, murmuring words in german. desperately, you ache to know what he said. was it something important? or just sweet nothings? 

sometimes he was a difficult man to decipher.

“hey, have you opened that gift yet? the one i brought to you in jeddah?”

“no,” you admit, heat billowing into your cheeks, “i have a hard time accepting gifts.”

“clearly.”

before you can respond, he’s up from the bed, strolling over to your bags. unzipping your carry-on, he searches for that parcel. fishing it out of your bag, he sets in on the bed, sliding on his boxers before plopping it in front of you.

“open it. right now.”

“right now?” you echo, “toto, i–”

“open it.”

“fine,” nimbly, your fingers untie the bow, peeling away the wrapper. 

underneath the paper, there is a tiny velvet box. it’s long and slender, rectangular in shape.

“what is this?”

“open it and you’ll know,” toto urges, following your every move, anticipating your reaction.

opening the box, your heart swells at the sight before you.

it’s a bracelet, a dainty figaro chain, complete with a charm. the charm is an outline of the saudi arabian track. picking it up, you inspect it, noticing a date engraved on the backside of the charm. 

“how were you able to get this so quickly after the race?” 

“i have my ways,” toto bears a sheepish grin, “do you like it?”

“like it? i love it.”

well, you didn’t love it. you fucking adored it. it was perfect, and so you. it was something that you could wear everyday, a constant reminder of the years of effort to get you here. not to mention it was gorgeous, the chain shiny, freshly polished. 

a hand reaches out, plucking the chain from the box. his brows are knit together with concentration as he slips the chain around your wrist, ensuring it’s safely clasped.

“i figured it would be something you could always wear. a reminder of when you made history.”

“it’s beautiful,” sitting up, you shift your weight to your knees as you wrap your arms around his neck, “thank you, toto.”

“always, schatzi. don’t worry, i will always spoil you.”

as toto nuzzles into the crook of your neck, he was well aware of one thing.

you had made your decision. 

you hadn’t outright said it, but he knew you made your decision. 

you would be signing to mercedes for the 2025 season. 

you were finally going to be by his side every day. 

there was no more in-between. no more will she or won’t she. no more nights of him lying awake, wondering where you stood. no more driving himself insane pondering all of the possibilities that could unravel. 

he had you. 

you were all his now. 

and god, did that leave such a sweet taste in his mouth. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @joalslibrary @martwll @prettiest-at-the-party @pucksandpower @kravitzwhore @toldyouitwasamelodrama @annewithaneofthegreengable @persona1lies @zoeyjadetice2010 @whoisss @sinners-98-world

if i missed anyone, please let me know! also, you are more than welcome to be added to the taglist! thank you for reading! <3

[reiderwriter]

Here Isn't Where I Wanna Be

Chapter Four of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: With Spencer gone, you find yourself spiralling into anger again until a new friend - and a silver lining to your entire situation - appears.

Warnings: Unplanned pregnancy, mentions of the smut in the last chapter in detail, no explicit smut.

A/N: And so we get to it - the plot!! If you're enjoying the series, let me know in the replies or in my inbox, and feedback is greatly appreciated~♡

Masterlist || Add yourself to the taglist

With Mondays back to normal, you were surprised to find yourself still under the weather the day after Spencer had left you. 

Walking into your office, your body anticipated the fight, muscles tensing, heart beating, blood pumping as you opened the door to your office. Logically, you knew he wouldn't be there. He'd practically shouted it at you the Saturday before. But seeing the vacant desk left you angry once again. 

Tense for a fight, you couldn't stop pacing back and forth in your office as the hours ticked on. A small part of you had hoped that the activities you'd indulged in during the weekend - and indulged was the word for whatever it was you'd done - had simply been your over active imagination once again. 

But even though Spencer has cleaned you up to the best of his ability, had left you in your bed in fresh clothes and tucked under the covers, he couldn't erase the traces of himself on your skin or in your apartment. 

The files you'd both thrown around on the tables were still strewn haphazardly around, the tangle of last night's clothes still discarded suggestively in a line to your couch. He'd washed you up, sure enough, and you'd found a towel and wash cloth in your laundry basket the next morning, but he'd not done a thorough job and you found yourself washing all traces of your activities away from your inner thighs still. 

So, yes. You paced in your office, and you waged a silent war against the empty desk. 

The first week, you were sure they'd come to collect it, to move it elsewhere. 

After all, his time with you - with the university - was done. 

After two weeks, you started spreading yourself out across both desks, twisting them around into an inverted L space so you could roll your chair between the two of them. You stacked books on the stupid reminder of him, you used it as a dining table on late nights and short lunch breaks, you kicked your feet up on it as you read and acted as though it were yours and had never been anyone else's. 

And then you got angry enough that you unblocked Spencer Reid's number. 

You were raging and suffering this torment alone, and why should you be? You'd made a mistake with the case files, sure, but you'd been driven to it by his cockiness, his actions. You deserved the chance to make his life hell one last time as well. 

You took yourself home that night, wrapped yourself in a blanket and pulled your laptop in front of you, and unblocked his number. 

Immediately, you put the phone down and opened your emails. 

You'd take responsibility for the messages, sure, but you had not blocked his email. Searching through the files, you looked through your department database for his work email, searched your inbox for his messages, and came up blank. 

It took you two hours of traipsing through each email - admittedly, you'd probably signed up to one to many mailing list - just to be sure. You finally turned to your spam folder, and there it was. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered under your breath as you looked through ten emails. Ten emails from his FBI email account. No wonder they hadn't gotten throug, it was an unauthorised email on a company server. 

You only grew angrier as you read through the messages. 

“Y/N, I have reason to believe you have a file I need as soon as possible. Please message me back as soon as you get this. Spencer.”

“Y/N. I haven't received word from you in 24 hours. If there's something wrong, please reach out. If you're being stubborn, I hope you see reason. Spencer.”

“Y/N. I have your address. If you don't reply in the next four hours, I will be paying you a visit to collect the file myself. You have blocked my number and resisted adult conversation, and I am tired of playing these games. Spencer.”

Sick of playing games? 

From the man that had been playing jenga and scrabble with your bookshelves, that was absolutely rich. You may have worked out that nights frustrations with him easily, but you found yourself angry all over again.

You hadn't even checked your phone yet either, sure that he'd blown that up too until he figured out his number was blocked. 

He'd found your address. He'd practically stalked you to get what he wanted, and then he'd just washed his hands of you the night after? 

It had been a month, and you were still frustrated. 

Your stomach flipped, bike rising in your throat as your anger burned through you.

If he could find you, you sure as hell could find him. You'd assumed he'd found your address through work, and realised it was just as easy to find his as well.  

Before you could stop yourself, you were loading yourself into a car at 8 pm. and driving across the city to Spencer Reid's apartment. 

The red blurring your vision didn't fade until you sounded against his door and were greeted with an entirely too feminine “I'm coming!” 

The woman who opened the door was blonde and cute and sweet, and she had a wonderful smile. You were going to rip Spencer Reid's throat from his chest. 

“I-I’m sorry, I was told this is Spencer Reid's apartment,” you said, trying your best to disappear into the night.

“Oh, yes. Can I help you?” 

“No. No, I'm sorry, I- I don't need help.” 

You must've looked uneasy in that second because before you knew it, the woman was inviting you inside for a hot drink, taking your few seconds of hesitancy to push down your guards completely. 

“Spencer doesn't keep much here in terms of food, but I know there has to be some…aha! Coffee!” 

“No, thank you, really I'm alright, I should leave-” 

In another two minutes, she'd talked you into sitting down and had put a mug in your hands. In a miracle turn of events, you'd actually relaxed enough to take in your surroundings. 

It was like you'd stepped back into your work office. Spencer's apartment, or at least the main living space, was filled with books. There were stacks everywhere, the shelves alphabetised - obviously - and looking neatly chaotic. 

You wanted to examine everything, every picture, every trinket on the shelf, every weakness he had that you could exploit. You wanted to know him. 

“S-So,” you started, turning back to the woman who'd sat herself down in a chair opposite you, staring at you excitedly. “How long have you and Spencer been dating?” 

The woman spluttered her coffee before sending up a howl of laughter that had your cheeks heating. 

Okay. Misunderstanding. You were less pissed at Spencer, but only a fraction.

“Oh, god, the idea of me and the good doctor is incredibly ridiculous. No, it feels incestuous, actually. Really, like shivers down my spine type stuff.”

“So you're his sister?” You asked, even though you knew the answer. Spencer was an only child. You had spent three months with him, you knew at least that much about him. 

“I'm Penelope, I work with Spencer. He's on a case right now, and I came to find him a book.” 

“A book?” You asked again, taking another sip of your drink. Mistake aside, you felt comfortable sitting with her. The couch was comfy, the entire apartment was damn cosy, and it smelt….

Your spine straightened when you realised it smelt like he did, when you realised that thought was somehow a comfort to you. Your stomach had settled for the first time in a week, and the nausea leaving your body after four weeks of anger had made you sick. 

“Yeah, we've been working back to back cases, so he didn't have time to come back and pick up materials, so here I am as his little fairy godfriend to send him a care package.” 

You laughed gently and pulled your feet underneath you on the couch, curling up again. 

“He doesn't deserve you.” 

“What makes you say that?” Her face was open. Her tone was light  but you felt that you'd just walked into a trap. Even though Penelope had described her role on the team to you (not a profiler, not a big risk), you couldn't help but feel as though you were walking into a trap. 

“Well, he's… he's… You know the man better than I do, right? He's infuriating.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave you a smile but didn't say a word. 

“He's domineering. He thinks his way is the best way, he- he- he rearranged my bookshelves!” 

And my guts, you thought to yourself, holding your tongue just quick enough to not let that slip out. You still weren't sure where you stood on the sex. It was good. It was great. It was more than great, and yet you'd hated him until the very second he put his lips on yours, and you hated him again when you'd woken the next morning. Surely that meant that you'd still hated him while fucking him, that you'd just been temporarily blinded by lust? 

“Your bookshelves?” 

“At the university. Sorry, I- I didn't introduce myself, did I?” You told her your name, how you'd met Spencer and regaled her with tales of your office antics. 

“Penelope you, you should've seen the look on his face. It was priceless! Like a deer in headlights, his eyes were so wide, it was adorable,” you said, recounting the run-in with the student. 

“And then, infuriating man, he said he'd spent all dat looking at me, but like, with the books-” 

You realised after five minutes of talking that Penelope had gone completely quiet, just grinning. Uncharacteristically quiet. You'd known her less than an hour, and you knew it was uncharacteristic for her to be so quiet. 

“So you hate him?” She asked, noticing your abrupt stop. 

“I- yes. Yes, I did. I do."

“It doesn't sound like you-” 

“We- we parted on really bad terms. I think. I took one of your files accidentally, and he was very angry, we both said some things-” And did some other things, you thought. 

“Things that I'm sure we both regret.” 

“Oh my god-” the other woman said, suddenly going wide-eyed and jumping up from the couch. 

“You're the- you're the reason he was late! He's never been late, never, apart from - well anyway he's never late but he was late and… oh Miss Y/N, you're not telling me everything!” 

“What? N-No, I don't know what you're-” 

“Luke owes me $20. This is wonderful. Look at me, I'm not even a fancy shmancy profiler or anything!” 

“Penelope please-” 

She heard the plea in your tone and sat down again, zipping her lips up and throwing away a non-existent key. 

“While we were…arguing, he accused me of having blocked his email, ignoring him on purpose. I found out today that he emailed from his FBI account and not his university email-” 

“So it was sent to your spam folder? Yeah, it happens all the time.” 

You shot her a tired look, and she repeated her action. Lips zipped, key thrown.

“I came here to….” To what? Fight with him again? See him again? To one up him? To kiss him again, feel his hands on you, feel his fingers inside of you, his to guess on your clit as you rode his face again, his hands around your throat as you came on his dick, as he blew his load inside you, filling you with his cum- 

“Shit.” 

“Shit? What's… what is shit, Y/N? Please enlighten me, because everything seems very not shit to me right now, other than the fact that I'm due a video call from our boy wonder soon and I haven't located this book yet.

You counted in your head and then recounted again as all the blood drained from your body. You didn't even want to acknowledge the fact that you'd come here just to see him again  using whatever old excuse you could find to get back into his arms (or more accurately, his bed). 

You counted, and you counted again until your brain fogged, and you couldn't even hear Penelope asking you if you were alright anymore. 

“Penelope, I- I think… Penelope, can you keep a secret?” 

“Yes, I can absolutely keep a secret. I'm a great secret keeper. Everyone says if you want a secret keeping, Penelope is your girl-” 

“Okay, that's- that's enough. I need to- shit, I need to go and get…” 

For the thousandth time since Spencer left, you stood up and started pacing. 

“Okay, now you're worrying me, friend I just made. Please don't freak out on me.” 

“I'm sorry, I'm going to freak out, I think I'm pregnant. Very much freaking out.”

All of a sudden, Penelope was up and pacing beside you. 

“Pregnant! With a baby? You think you're pregnant with a baby?”

“I don't see how I could be pregnant with anything else?” 

“You're sure?”

“No! I need a test or a sign from God or something.” 

The woman took a deep breath herself and then grabbed your shoulders, hauling you to her side. 

“Okay, breathe. You sit here, I’ll go pick up a test. Don't go anywhere and don't spiral. Rearrange the bookshelves of you must but don't. Leave. Okay?” 

You nodded, and she rushed out of the door in a whirlwind.

For at least ten minutes, you stayed completely still. It had been roughly seven weeks since your last period and 26 days since you and Spencer had sex. He hadn't pulled out. He hadn't worn a condom. He hadn't asked if you were on birth control. As much as you wanted to be angry, though, you hadn't told him to pull out. You hadn't stopped him and asked him to put on a condom, and if you were telling the truth, you enjoyed it all the more when he'd finished inside you. You'd forgotten that you'd gone off your birth control when you'd started your job, knowing that tenure came with health insurance and wanting to get the implant cheaper or included in your premium. 

What a brilliant plan.

Still, you weren't expecting this, and you were in a haze. 

Seven weeks. You'd missed a period, and you hadn't even noticed. 

You stopped spiralling when you paced into the bookshelves and started actually looking at the things laid about on his shelves. 

There were chess pieces, small rooks placed here and there, as if dropped and forgotten. Paper stuck out of the books at all different angles, and you noticed his looping scrawl on a few of them, his notes brief and indecipherable, but still bringing a faint smile to your lips. 

Then there were the pictures. There were a lot with an older woman you instantly recognised as his mother, and your heart softened as how they looked very protective of one another. Others showed him with his team, with Penelope, and a stern looking middle-aged man, two women, a happy looking, well-built man. There were weddings, faces that popped up here and there. There was a very young, very vulnerable looking Spencer playing chess with an older man. 

The room was filled with family, and you couldn't stop the tears from welling up in your eyes as you took in how much Spencer could love. 

He cared, and he cared deeply, and there were all these people in his life that enjoyed being around him. And he hated you. 

Your heart sank, and you were about to leave when Penelope appeared again, test in hand and gently pushed you into the bathroom. 

You took the test and waited. Penelope waited beside you, clutching your (clean) hands in hers as she talked you through her day, distracting you in the only way she could.

But your brain resisted everything, focused only on how you were about to grow a family with a man you knew didn't enjoy your company. 

“What am I going to do, Penelope?” You whispered, suddenly afraid of what your future looked like. 

“I can't - I can't raise a baby with a man that doesn't love me the way-” 

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your tongue quickly. 

“You don't have to answer me, but is it… is there a chance it could be Spencer's?” 

You nodded before you could even think of lying, too wrapped up in your mental to-do list building up and up and up. 

“It could be negative? This could just be panic and stress and-” 

You heard the alarm you'd set for the test go off and jumped up, sprinting into the bathroom. 

Two lines. What did two lines mean? Two lines meant baby. 

Baby. You were having a baby. 

“Y/N, what does it say?” Penelope asked from behind you. 

“It's… I'm…shit.” 

She came up behind you and looked herself, cursing the same way you did as she watched you for your reaction. 

There was a baby. You were going to have a baby. 

Okay. You could have a baby. You could bring a baby into this world. You just had to figure out how, and write a to-do list, and avoid telling your boss until you got tenure, and tell your parents, and tell Spencer. 

Spencer. 

You had to Spencer. You collapsed to the ground, mumbling to yourself as Penelope fanned you with her hands, squeaking at your unresponsiveness. 

“Spencer…” you mumbled. “I have to tell Spencer.”

You blinked the fog out of your eyes and stood quickly, absent mindedly making a note to check if sudden movements were good for the baby or not. 

“Penelope, I need some help,” you said, moving to the living room and pulling our your phone. She trailed behind you, sending you a worrying look, and you thanked the heavens that you'd managed to run into the most forgiving angel of a woman on quite possible the best/worst day of your life. The jury waa still undecided. 

You snapped a picture of the shelves, and then, throwing your phone down, you started tearing each stack apart. 

Once you'd made a large enough gap in the stacks, you turned back to Penelope. 

“We're going to tell Spencer. Like this.” 

🔖@stillhere197 @understandingsunrise @mindfullycriminal @aliteralsemicolon @r-3dlips @alexafromamazon15 @jasf444 @subunitless @thebloomingeagle @lackingoriginalthoughts @empressgraytea @nox-sprite @alondralolll @allspicestones @chiyozai @i_heart_mgg @2hiigh2cry @tiyuel @jiuseoks @readinglatenights @placidus @dreamsarebig @pisceslovrr @waywardgoddess66 @tampon_racecar @kbaby-024 @luvdella @feyresqueen @a1dyn @pleasantwitchgarden @kolasbombaf @lovehadlovelost @kissesforspence @moonchildooh @bubbleebubz @theoraekenslover @melagem02 @calypso-read @ari-aurelia @flipsideoflife @spicyspirit @donttrustlove @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @ivet4 @nox-xie @sarakay-gvf @miss-ev @nvrlandqueen

[cyber333angel]

like imagine sugar daddy! rafe begging to eat you out after rinsing his money on yu x

i would die i think x

-🎀

⋆｡ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡

you had just finished shopping with rafe at a couple of different stores, ending your journey at one of your favorite places, victoria secret. he had already spoiled you too much today but it was always worth it.

so as your walking around the shop pointing out what you liked, you decided you wanted to try a few sets on to make sure it would fit. rafe sat down next to the dressing room with your bags bought from expensive brands, places only kooks could afford, waiting as you tried on the pretty lingerie. they all fit perfectly except one was pretty hard to zip so you asked for help, “rafe could you come in here please? quick!” you yell to him, he picks up his head from his phone and walks into the large stall, locking the door behind him. “i just need you to zip this up. i think the zipper jammed-“ you stop talking for a moment, watching rafe in the mirror in front of you stare you down head to toe. “rafey! are you listening?” and he snaps from the trance. “yeah..yeah im listening kid. turn around.” you do as your told as rafe walks up to you, bracing his hand on your shoulder as he pulls the he zipper up.

you squeal looking at yourself, happy of how the lingerie fits. “oh em gee! rafe doesn’t this make me look so pretty! what do you think?” you turn to look up at him but jerk your head back a bit when he grabs you by the waist inching himself closer to you. “this little get-up is for me hm princess? teasing me because you wanted daddy to touch you?” rafe asked you with a stern voice, his sudden actions make you fluster.

the two of you had agreed on a strictly money based relationship when you first started out, having you attend all the prestigious events to impress the kooks with his pretty girl on his side. but over the weeks you noticed he would look at you and hint things in a way that was not so professional. “no rafe! remember we said no sex and that this was only a business relationship?!” you tell him, although you were only trying to convince yourself at this point. “business relationship my ass you know you want more than that. why don’t you let me make you feel good huh? you look so pretty for me..” you look at him hesitantly, “I don’t know rafey..” and he twists his head to the side. “please baby?” his begging getting the best of you, you nod knowing what he said before was right and rafe flashes you a handsome smile. “theres my good girl.”

you sat in the chair that was in the dressing room, your legs spread out in front of his face as he lapped at your soaked folds. he had taken the lower part of your lingerie off, carful not to ruin it so he could buy it after he was done with you.

you were barely able to contain your moans as he sucked on your bud, his biceps wrapped around your legs forcing your heat to be close to his face. rafe mumbled little nothings under his breath, praising you. “taste so fucking good for daddy baby ..” you mewled at him, squirming around the chair and arching your back as he held you in place, “stay fuckin still alright?” he told you, pausing for a moment to get your response and you nod frantically. “mm yes daddy m’trying!” and the brunette goes back to licking stripes up into your cunt. “let’s hurry this up yeah?” you whine and cover your mouth as he takes two fingers, plunging them into your heat.

rafe thrusts his fingers in and out of your pussy, urging you to cum and you hump at his fingers, making rafe chuckle, “you really want to cum huh needy girl?” you ignore him as he places little kisses to your sloppy cunt making your hips buck. rafe sucks at your sensitive bud a few more times and you cum, your slick covering the bottom on his chin leaving you out of breath.

rafe licks the arousal of his fingers but sees you spread out on the chair out of breath. suddenly taking your jaw with his other hand and shoving the wet digits into your mouth. “taste how fuckin sweet you were for me..” you moan quietly around his fingers, slurping up the juices left as he looks at you.

he takes his fingers from your mouth, helping you clean you up and puts the lingerie set back in your shopping basket to pay for at the cashier desk. “lets go pay sweetheart. ” he tells you.

[fanaticsnail]

PAULIE for the kissin booth, please!!!! Oh, snail!!!!!! He is sooooo shyyyyyyyyyy, he would only be able to kiss someone if he forces himself so hard...

Paulie, paulie, paulieeeee 😘 come here, sweetheart!!!!!!! 💕 💕 💕

Aaaaaaah!!!! I al already screaming!!!!!!!

The Kissing Booth: Paulie for Jintaka-Hane

Word Count: 670+

Notes: Not only was this the first request for the kissing booth, but it was my first time writing for this beautiful, shy man. I hope you enjoy your kiss, @jintaka-hane You're always so beautiful in my notifications, and I adore your fics.

The blindfold brushes against your cheeks as you turn your head towards the guest in front of you. Shuffling several leaves of Berry into the glass jar at your side, you heard a small grunted cough your guest used to clear his throat. 

“I-... I-...” the low, baritone voice called out to you, stuttering and staggering over his words. “...How does this work, exactly? What do I-... How do we-...?” 

His nerves shine through in his cadence, sharp and rumbling stutters staggered in a staccato-like rattle. You smiled at him, slowly presenting your left palm out in front of you while holding your eyes shut behind your silky blindfold. 

Gently and tentatively placing his hand in yours, you heard the scuffle of the wooden barstool scoot in towards you. The scent of heady aftershave mixed with undertones of ignited tobacco flooded your senses, his aura feeling anxious and nervous with each passing moment. Lulling your head to the side, you feel his hand tremble within your own. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him in a soft hum, furrowing your brows at his apprehensive body language. You could feel the gulp he took to choke back the dry mouthful in response. 

“I’m… I just-...” he stuttered, deeply sighing and moving closer to you, “I don’t do this. Not normally, I mean. You just… You looked so…” His voice trailed off, his hand gently squeezing your fingers in reassurance. 

“So “what”?” you leaned your chin up to where his voice was lingering, “I looked so “what”?”. You could hear a soft stutter in his breath, prompting you to smile with a soft, teasing hum.

“...So beautiful,” you could feel his lips lingering with his soft whisper, “And so lonely. Like you needed me to be here.” You gently scrunch your nose playfully up at him, lulling your head to the side.

“You’re here now,” you hum at him, your lips parted and waiting, “Do you want to kiss me-?” 

“-Yes,” he hurriedly whispered to cut off your string of words, his hand gently cupping your cheek and tugging you a little closer, “So much. So, so much-.”

Without further warning, he pressed his lips to yours hurriedly and desperately. His lips were chapped, tasting of seaspray and lingering sour cigars. He whimpered into your lips, angling his chin and turning his face, pressing a flurry of peppered kisses into your lips. 

His actions felt ill-practiced and inexperienced, but his enthusiasm made up for his lack of ‘kiss-training’. Releasing your hand from his, he partnered his palm on your other cheek, drawing you in closer by cupping both sides of your face. 

You fought the urge to giggle into his lips, gently reaching forward and placing your hands on his forearms. Tracing gentle patterns onto the material of his jacket-sleeves with your thumbs seemed to ease his nerves. He relaxed into the kiss, his lips only ever parting to change angles to taste more of your lips on his.

Pulling away, he gently held your face out in front of him and paused for a moment.

“Would you mind if you took the blindfold off?” he asked, his lips almost touching your lips with every word due to his close proximity. “I want to look into your eyes. I-... I need to look into your eyes.” 

“My shift ends in a few hours here,” you uttered with a small giggle in your tone, “If you still want to see me, I’ll be standing under the ferris wheel all by myself.” 

“I’ll be there,” he whispered, scuffing the floor with the stool legs as he stood. You gently waved in his direction as he slowly fled the scene, looking over his shoulder at you as he saw your smile linger on. 

Paulie was absolutely smitten with you. Not only was he waiting beneath the ferris wheel at the end of your shift on the kissing booth before you arrived, he was holding an assortment of treats in his hands and ready to take a spin around the large mechanism with you right by his side. 

[wwillywonka]

i'll say more in the morning, but as a person of color, the reason i hate the newest doctor who episode is because it deals with racism in the most one-note, surface level, bland way possible. racism is not "haha white person is stupid lol idiot," it is a thousands and thousands of years old, systematic, learned way of thinking that can (newsflash!) even infect bipoc people themselves and therefore cannot be undone by one (white!) writer saying "hey wasn't that fucked up? anyway moving on."

the episode should have centred around the doctor, the literal black character. the episode should have expanded on lindy's character, unraveled her morals as the story went on, instead of giving us an unsurprising "twist" of her selfishness. i am not asking that a racist character be made sympathetic, i am asking that she be well-rounded enough that her actions have real-world ramifications. by making her a stereotype, an exaggeration, viewers have enough room to remove themselves and avoid taking responsibility to learn from the story. "did you know that being addicted to social media makes you unable to see reality?" yes, russell, we know. now what the hell does that actually say about humanity? the only consequence of lindy's selfishness is that ricky, another white kid, is killed off. and what, i'm supposed to care just because he reads? because he's an "ally"?? we don't even see what his own relationship with race is like. we are not given anything to work with or think deeply about. i am begging on bended knee for russell t davies or whoever the fuck is in charge on the doctor who team to hire writers of color, especially and most importantly black writers to write for a doctor played by a black actor. i am seeing posts about how people are criticising the episode because they don't understand it. no. the problem is that we do understand what rtd was trying to do and it failed miserably because he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. "racism bad." we know, russell, we know. now say more.

[noveauskull]

How Male WUWA Character's React When You Make Them Mad! (NSFW)

-----

characters: jiyan, geshu lin, mortefi, calcharo, yuanwu, aalto, scar

warnings: 18+, smut, brat! reader, brat taming, mating press, spanking, use of toys, punishment, doggy style, overstimulation, passing out, age gap, anal, wall fucking, office sex, cock warming, teasing, orgasm denial, pet names (princess), sir kink (?), choking (asphyxiation)

SCAR:

Scar often finds your little acts cute. He likes it when you hit him or cuss at him, it always makes him feel warm and funny inside when you behave rudely to him, probably cause most of the time the others are scared of him. But even Scar has limits.

He finds you hard to talk with sometimes, whenever he wanted a genuine conversation with you, you'd just tell him to go away, and that does upset him, but he tries to be patient with you and try again next time.

Though he realizes that next time will never come, and he's starting to find your bold antics unamusing. His final straw was when he asked you if you had missed him while he was gone out, and your response was-

"What are you talking about? Stop acting stupid and fetch me the soda bottle"

Yeah, you regret it.

Scar had your knees all the way up to your chest while he fucks your cunt loose with his cock, your nipples and clit being pinched with clips that were connected together through chains, and your ass was stuffed with an anal plug.

He had all your holes filled and sweet spots touched, leaving your mouth gaping open to let your whines and moans free, gasping for air each time you feel the tip of Scar's cock breaking into you to meet with your cervix, you could feel yourself get dizzy from all the sensations.

The clips shaking with every thrust Scar gave you, having it stimulate you by theirselves without him needing to touch them.

Scar would have you talk to him while he rammed himself inside of you, cause if you wouldn't talk with him when he isn't fucking you, then you might as well say a few words when he is fucking you.

"Like I was asking early, did you miss me?" He would ask through pants in every thrust, which you would struggle to answer with.

"Hgh- nmph-! Ugh!" You'd try answering, but your mind can't even focus to tell your mouth to move properly.

"Answer me, baby. Don't make me wait" He'd give you a sharp smack on your ass, making you snap out of the daze he was putting you in.

"H-Hnagh y-yes!! Yes!" You'd cry before hearing him chuckle, giving you a long, wet kiss to reward you.

"You're so cute when you're crying for my cock, I guess this will happen more often if you keep your bratty behavior up~"

-----

JIYAN:

Cussing at him, hitting him, ignoring him, somehow he was fine with it all, he'd even go back to his general duties sometimes, knowing that when the two of you return home he'd have to give you a small talk on why you should be nicer to him, to which you'd just ignore him and flop yourself onto the bed that you two shared.

The one thing that made him snap, was when you poured water onto his head. In public. All because you were upset at him for taking too long with his subordinates at the Midnight Rangers.

You'd wish you hadn't did that to him though, it seems like he really made it clear that there is a limit to how much shit you could throw at a person, especially at him.

The side of your face would be pressed into the covers, ass sticking up for Jiyan's cock to thrust into your leaking pussy, you were probably at your 4th orgasm right now.

The noises your mouth made were lewd, no sane person should be hearing those slutty moans you're letting out as Jiyan destroys your cunt. Your hands gripping onto the sheets to give you some sort of relief from all the pounding he was giving you.

You felt his arms go under your waist to lift you up, making your back press onto his chest, his right hand moving to where your clit is and flicking it, the sudden action made you scream with tears rolling down your cheek.

"S-Sto-" You tried speaking, but it was no use. Jiyan had you right where he wanted you. He's made it clear that he was not going to forgive you unless you let out exactly 10 full orgasms.

You realized that this entire time, Jiyan was only showing you his lenient side, the side of a understanding boyfriend. But right now? He's showing you the side of a General. Harsh, strict and merciless.

Right on your 4th orgasm, you squirted all over his cock and fingers, the entire time while he was pounding you he never once took a break, both for himself or for you, definitely not for you.

He was pounding into you so much that you felt like the tip of his cock was going to pop out of your mouth with each thrust. He throws your body back onto the bed while still rawdogging you. And all you can do was take it and hope you had finished your 10th orgasm the moment you blinked.

By the time you were on your 8th orgasm, you started feeling light headed, and you couldn't feel your pussy, or your entire lower body anymore, even your voice began to sound weak from all the moaning you were doing.

So you gave one final orgasm before passing out. You definitely learned your lesson, to never anger Jiyan and take his patience for granted.

The next day, Jiyan acts like nothing happened. But you're limping with every step as you hold your back like an old lady, making Jiyan chuckle.

"I hope you learned something from this, though I don't mind doing it all over again if you feel unsatisfied"

-----

CALCHARO:

Since Calcharo was a few years older than you, it's natural he thinks of you as an annoying kid whose been raised spoiled your whole life. Which is why he doesn't think much of your poor behavior and tolerates it most of the time.

However, he does get bothered by the way you casually speak to him, such as when you called him an asshole for telling you to not talk bad about others.

His last piece of patience of you would shred to pieces when you called his underdog namplate ugly, disrespecting the tiny drawing of a dog.

You didn't know it was going to get him this upset though, to the point he's pressing your body onto the wall and fucking your ass deeply with every thrust, while your pussy was filled with a thick vibrating dildo.

He ordered you to not let the dildo fall off out, if you did, he'd add onto your punishment by two times, and he'll keep adding onto it until you either pass out or you finally get the hang of it while he cums inside of your ass.

Calcharo would be cumming inside your ass so much you could feel your stomach bloating, it's crazy how pent up he is, and you just happened to be the perfect person to help him relieve his stress.

When you felt yourself cumming, you'd try to hold it in, but having a vibrating dildo inside of you while Calcharo's dick was giving your cervix punches to the gut wasn't helping, all while you were standing too.

The moment you started twitching and shaking while letting out a long and loud moan, you'd try to clench your legs together in hopes that the dildo wouldn't fall off, making you having to overstimulate yourself.

"Apologize" Calcharo says into your ear, his deep voice sounding dangerously calm which alarmed you.

"Apologize now and I'll stop" He offers, his left hand brushing over the tiny bulge he made on your stomach, you could feel his cum in your ass sloshing with every thrust.

"S-Sor- Ungh! S-Sorry! 'M so s-sorry!" You forced out of your mouth in cries, you could feel the dildo vibrating itself out of your pussy, you silently begged that he would say something to excuse the mistake you were about to make by letting the vibrator fall.

But before he could say anything, the dildo drops on the floor, and his palm presses onto your bulge, fingers circling your clit, make your legs shake and your eyes roll back.

"I guess we have to keep going until you've learned your lesson, brat"

-----

MORTEFI:

It's not likely for Mortefi to get angry easily, but for some reason, you're just really good at it.

Like how you would suddenly barge into his room and mess with his paperwork, making his job harder than it is, and you only do this when you feel like he's been focusing on his work more than you, and that makes you very unhappy.

But he won't let you keep up with this behavior, so the next time you barge into his room expecting no one but his stack of papers on his desk, he's already sitting down on his desk, eyes immediately locking in with yours because of how he had already expected your arrival.

Next thing you know you're sitting on top of his lap with his cock buried deep inside you, legs sticking out on the sides of the chair, through the space where the armrests are, and a small vibrator right on your clit, however, it isn't on.

Well, not unless Mortefi wants it to be. Whenever you do so much as move or your pussy twitches around his cock he'd use a small remove control to turn the vibrator on, stimulating you to the point you feel close to orgasming, but stopping whenever he feels your pussy twitch and tighten around him too much, indicating you are close.

And he keeps this up while he does his paperwork, you could beg him to just fuck you but he won't even pretend like he's listening to you, and when you try to move your hips he just sends a sharp smack onto your ass, warning you to keep still.

Mortefi will make you go crazy for hours and hours, just by not moving a muscle, you're surprised he's even able to keep his dick hard all this time, maybe it's gone limp a few times but everytime you twitched around him it'd harden right back up.

The torture would be too much to the point you no longer had an attitude, instead you're hugging him and rolling your hips to create some friction, mumbling words like "I'm sorry, please let me cum" into his ear.

But he still won't move, even when you play nice.

"Sweet talking me won't make my mood any better, you know? You'll just have to wait until I'm done"

-----

AALTO:

He's often very playful with you, and doesn't particularly care when you get pissy with him, he knows he can make it up to you by gifting you expensive accessories or clothes, but sometimes, he would have his limits too.

And being able to make even the most goofiest guy angry is something else. Most likely whenever you call him names like idiot or stupid, you'd be surprised but Aalto isn't a fan of name calling. He finds it unfair that while your names are "Princess", "Sweetheart" or "Baby", his is just mean names that you'd call any nuisance of a person.

He even asked you to give him a cute nickname, but it's like you never heard him once. And at one point in those countless of names you gave him, he's already hit his breaking point.

Aalto would drag you back home, throwing your body that was smaller than his onto the couch and taking off your clothes, when he pulls down your skirt, he immediately connects his lips to your clothed cunt, licking over it to tease you.

You won't know whats happening, as long as you were getting pleasure nothing mattered, but that's what Aalto wants you to think he's doing, instead, he hasn't made any effort to take off the panty you had on the entire time, making it completely soaked with your juices and his saliva.

Even when you bucked your hips forward with your hands on his head to create more friction he wouldn't give you the satisfaction, lessening the pressure of his tongue on your clit or even stopping at times too.

"No can do, princess. I want to hear you call me a cute name, then I'll let you cum" He'd tease, he would be angry, but he's forgotten all about it after seeing your desperate face.

"W-What is it? What do you w-want?!" You panted, face burning from the embarassment you were having, and the inability to cum right away from his kitten licks.

"Hmm, how about sir-"

"P-Please, Sir!! Hurry up, please!!" You cut him off in whines, making him chuckle at your desperation.

"So cute"

He would use his finger to move your panty to the side, finally revealing your soaking wet pussy with juices leaking out of it, he grips your thighs to hold them open before diving in to force orgasms out of you.

You'd already be begging him to stop after 2 orgasms, but he wouldn't, even if you had called him "Sir" countless of times already. It doesn't seem like Aalto was going to back down anytime soon.

"Sorry, princess. But the more you call me that the more it riles me up, give me one more and I'll stop, 'Mkay?"

-----

GESHU LIN:

He doesn't tolerate any kind of behavior from you, and you know this. Yet you seem to always forget that. It's not your fault though, he hasn't been teaching you a lesson whenever you act up these days, of course you're going to forget the consequences.

You really wished you remembered though, cause earlier, you noticed Geshu Lin just walking by the nearby stores in Jinzhou, and you just happened to be walking around Jinzhou with General Jiyan, so you did something unspeakable.

You brought your hands to grip onto Jiyan's biceps, pulling him back to warn him about the cat that was passing by. A mere coincidence, not only did you had a reason to touch General Jiyan but he wouldn't suspect you of doing anything to him, it was just a friend helping another friend.

But Geshu Lin was not taking a single ounce of shit for it.

Before you know it, you're on to bed the two of you lay on, body pressed onto the sheets while your back faces him as he fucks your pussy loose on top of you, making you cry out begging he'd go slower.

Of course he wouldn't though. Instead he goes even faster than before, he would press his body onto yours before moving his arm to your neck, clamping it with the middle of his bicep and forearm while another hand on the top of your head, putting you in a chokehold.

His bicep would be squeezing your neck while he pounded inside you mercilessly, the weight of his body on your own making it even harder for you, it didn't particularly hurt since it was a gentle squeeze, hard enough to give you trouble breathing but not hard enough to leave a mark, yet you could could feel you're losing yourself when your eyes rolled back the moment his arms made contact with your neck.

You'd let out a small whimper, tears rolling down to your face then to his muscular biceps, you've probably already came twice by now while Geshu Lin hasn't even came once.

"Since you love biceps so much you don't mind dying from it, right slut?" He teased you, grinning at the way you struggled to form words.

He would finally cum inside you after you squirted out your 5th orgasm, you could feel yourself slowly passing out before he smacks your ass to wake you up. He wasn't letting you off that easy.

"Get up, brat. I'm not done with you yet, I'm gonna fuck the attitude out of you this time"

-----

YUANWU:

Of course Yuanwu was patient with you, whenever you acted up he'd just pat your head and give you a few kisses, mumbling words like "You're a good girl right? Then behave well" and most of the time you'd listen to him, however of course there are times when you don't.

You were incredibly upset that Yuanwu didn't get you a new dress, he did tell you that he would get it soon and that he was way too busy to get one with you at the moment, but you couldn't care less. His job and his attention to you are two different things.

That's when you decided to take it out on him while you two were getting intimate. Yuanwu would come back home wanting to have a taste of you every now and then and you'd comply just fine, but right now you wanted to make it known that you were not happy.

"Ugh could you go any slower?" You grumbled as he was fucking his cock into your pussy, he brought his head up to look at you with wide eyes, surprised by your sudden remark.

"Pardon?" The strands of his blue hair would cover his forehead, making him appear younger.

"You heard me, hurry up I want to sleep" You repeated, you didn't know what you were expecting, but you sure as hell wasn't expecting him to just smile at you.

"Okay"

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, yelping at his sudden grip on your hips as he snaps his own forward. You didn't realize it before, but apparently he hadn't been putting his full size inside you a lot, until now.

You'd let out a small scream, feeling his cock plunge into your hole so deep and your cervix getting a hit from his tip, your hole immediately clamping down on his cock, a few of your juices leaking out in the process.

You wouldn't even have the time to let out a small breath before he's snapping his hips back onto your pussy, every thrust making you let out small cries and your eyes tearing up.

"W-Wai- Ugh!" You'd try to hold onto his arms to regain some sort of control, but that didn't help you one bit, instead he'd still have you your hole so used your face would be drenched in tears.

You wouldn't realize it, but he was holding back his anger from you this entire time. What he was doing now was just a small part of it, and the things he was about to do to you later were going to be even worse.

And yet despite him fixing your bratty behavior, he still does it all while smiling, and caressing you, treating you like glass one moment before treating you like a punching bag, thought of course, the only punching he'd be doing to you is when the tip of his cock is punching your cervix.

"You told me to go faster, so that's what I'm doing. What's that? You want me to go slow now? There's no need for that, I'm sure you can handle it, my lady"

-----

A/N: Sorry to the person who requested this! (the one with wuwa men reacts to you telling them to go faster) I thought it would be better to add it into this making wuwa men angry post, so yeah, hitting two birds w one stone 💀✨️✨️

[silverthehedgehoganalysis]

A 14 point outline of Silver’s character in the games and Sonic Channel

Rude punk(yes, he is very rude and in Japanese he speaks with punk mannerisms) with a good heart and strong sense of justice. 

Kind-hearted altruist that wants to “protect smiles” and make people happy because he grew up in a world where everyone lived in despair.

Taurus that is direct and blunt, he hides almost nothing and is straightforward in his actions and thinking. His words and actions are also dominated by his feelings and he is so honest that he cannot lie(though he can change the subject).

Pure person with an “honest, unpretentious and kind demeanor”. His genuineness endears people to him and makes them want to support him(this is why Blaze likes him, he’s the opposite of the stuck up lying politicians she has to deal with). He is forthright in every sense of the word.

Determind optimist that believes there’s always hope as long as you don’t give up(quote from JP Forces). He has positive energy that inspires people and gives hope to others during both disasters and personal issues like performance anxiety.

Talented and skilled, almost hyper competent professional(He takes offense to being treated like an amateur) that uses his (thinking) mind to solve problems(He does this in all of his major game roles). He makes steady efforts to improve his abilities and can skillfully do many things from odd job Town Missions around Soleanna to being a “genius” skating coach. He is sharp and perceptive enough to solve mysteries, puzzles and see through Eggman’s plans. His naivete makes him low wisdom but not low intellect.

Pragmatist with a cut straight to the point mentality that doesn’t care about details like plan names(Sonic Forces). He is very focused on his current goals(even during sports, he says he likes the Jade Wisp because it lets him disappear and focus on racing), is ruthless in what he’s willing to do to save the future and takes his mission as seriously as Blaze takes her’s.

When not on missions however, Silver is a fun loving young person that goes on journeys by himself, enjoys sightseeing, has a mischievous side and engages in cheerful activities. He truly loves the world and enjoys making people smile. He will drop his mission to help those in need. He is also a good friend and often shown to like apples.

Abrasive, snide and sarcastic. He is blunt with others and snotty towards opposition.

Proud warrior that fought and struggled for half his life(so since he was a small child). This means that he’s a natural fighter, has aggressive body language and intense expressions(even when playing sports or just doing anything he’s focused on), enjoys fighting, can “call forth great power without mercy”(i.e kill people), has an instant fight response when surprised(Sonic Generations), can endure great pain(undeterred by being kicked in the head in 06 or shred across the street in Generations), recklessly faces danger, values bravery and dislikes cowardice(Sonic Rivals, Team Vector Interview) and is overall rough and tough(he’s not frail because he’s a psychic, he is athletic and has evenly physically brawled Shadow, Sonic and Knuckles. He's just slow for a hedgehog).

Easily angered, aggressive and headstrong(like Blaze), He is competitive and doesn’t take slights lying down.

Juvenile, outgoing and emotionally immature/unfiltered(opposite of Blaze), can be reckless and rash/quick to rush or take things too head on because of the strength of his feelings, so he benefits from having stoic composed partners(Blaze/Espio/Shadow) to pull him back.

Can get riled up. When he’s into something he gives it his all (I’m giving this every thing I’ve got!). When fired up, his unfiltered feelings can sometimes cause him to get a bit carried away in the heat of a moment(Olympic Games victory animations) or be a bit dramatic(Olympic Games loss animations). He is brash and passionate and wild. He can get indignant, be impatient and vicious towards things that get in his way but that all stems from a his sheer love for the world, feels anger and joy loudly.

Can also be quiet and introspective. He is contemplative, sentimental and appreciates little things. He is left breathless and at peace when seeing blue skies, beautiful environments or people living prosperously. He doesn’t say anything when something is on his mind, silently ponders his doubts and concerns, and serenely enjoys wonders of the world(“Isn’t that impressive?”, he says of the legend of Revival Bridge), feels sadness and contemplation quietly

It should also be noted that Silver is an AB blood type character which in Japanese culture denotes being aloof, dual natured and hard to pin down. Hence Silver being difficult to understand for many people.

[delimeful]

you can't go back (10)

warnings: depression mention, death mention, animal violence mention, angst, lmk if i missed any

-

Roman had been poking and prodding the alien in his barn for answers for the better part of a month, to no avail. 

No matter what combination of words, actions, or prop-laden charades he and Logan had attempted, they’d come no closer to anything resembling communication than they had when Roman had been angrily threatening the alien with a broom. He’d been growing more hopeless— and admittedly, more guilty— by the day. 

And then, entirely unintentionally, along came Patton. 

Less than an hour after their accidental introduction, Patton had somehow managed to not only convince the alien to speak to him, but also earn their apparent undying loyalty. 

Roman kind of got it, because, well, it was Patton, but he was still feeling incredibly miffed about how the entire situation had played out. He couldn’t even say as much, because then Patton would start making pointed statements about not hiding things from one’s friends and how nice it would have been for him to have met their excitable extraterrestrial earlier. 

Going by the way the alien kept hovering over Patton like a brooding hen, Roman figured their captive-turned-guest(?) probably felt the same way. Not that he could really blame them.

Despite Patton’s gentle prompting and Logan’s intense staring, the alien refused to utter so much as a recognizable syllable in front of them, sticking firmly to bobbing a clawed hand up-and-down or side-to-side for ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, respectively. 

That alone was enough to confirm that Patton was right: the alien absolutely could understand human speech, though not as comprehensively as Star Wars would have had him believe. Even with this new willingness to interact, around half of their questions were still answered with a hesitant motion of bumping the sides of their forearms together and then drawing them back apart, which seemed to be the alien’s version of a shrug. 

This wasn’t the only new gesture they were introduced to over the course of the next few days. From subtle shifts of their faceplates to the absent air-pedaling their stabby limbs did while they were thinking, they were now witness to a whole gallery of unfamiliar mannerisms. The thick spiral-ring notebook Logan had dedicated to documenting the alien’s body language had rapidly begun to run out of blank pages, with the frantic scribbling becoming such a well-worn background noise that even the alien stopped being wary after a while. 

As it turned out, the alien was a lot more expressive when all six of their limbs weren’t forcibly restrained. This was one of those things that seemed a lot more obvious in hindsight. 

Given that four of those limbs had both the sharpness of a spear and the spring-loaded power of a harpoon gun, Roman still felt a fair amount of uncertainty about just how much trust they were placing in a relative stranger, but he kept those thoughts to himself.

After all, this was a welcome change from the quiet, still way the alien had been curled up on their makeshift bed for the past week, not nearly as aggressive as before but also not nearly as alert or even responsive, some days. Roman had been getting more and more worried, half-expecting to find a corpse every time he went to check on them, like a bug left in a jar to suffocate. 

Whatever magic Patton had worked, it had brought an undeniable spark of life back to the alien, and wary or not, Roman was unspeakably relieved about it. 

The past couple of days had been dedicated to finding supplies for the alien’s project, which they had figured out (mostly through extensive guessing) was a makeshift translator. One of Logan’s old laptops, the disemboweled guts of the alien’s helmet, and an old car battery from the junkyard had been sacrificed to the alien’s tinkering, along with various bits and bobs pulled from old charging cables and a broken VCR player. 

After the third unsuccessful game of charades, Roman had just grabbed the whole junk drawer in the kitchen and tipped all the contents out in the hopes that the alien would find what they needed. 

Seeing as there hadn’t been any more requests, they seemed to have found the pieces they needed— or at the very least, acceptable substitutes. From there, all that was left to do was loiter in the barn and wait for them to finish. 

“Guys,” Patton called, the only one allowed to sit nearby while the alien worked. “I think it’s ready!” 

The moment the words split the air, Logan practically teleported over to their corner of the barn, and Roman was only a step behind, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest at the thought of finally learning what had happened to his brother. 

The alien was crouched with their backwards-jointed legs folded under them, and as they all gathered around, the limbs on their back pulled in to avoid grazing any shoulders, as though even the barest touch would be poisonous. As always, they didn’t make direct eye contact with anyone, simply reaching out to the contraption and pressing one of the buttons on the VCR. 

They made a series of carefully enunciated clicks and churrs, the same muffled language that they had used during Roman’s pointless interrogations, and then released the button and pressed down another one. 

There was a brief moment of silence, and then: 

“Can you understand this sentence?” 

The voice was robotic, the inflections slightly strange, but the words were clear. 

“Yes!” Roman exclaimed, half an answer and half a cheer of success. “It worked, we understood that!” 

The three of them exchanged glances, sharing a sort of awed joy at the impossibility of it all. The alien waited for a moment longer before recording another stretch of clicks and sending it through the translator. 

“The energy cell won’t last long. Ask important questions first.” 

Like mirror images, both of his friends turned to look at him at the same time, and whatever expression he was making seemed to tell them everything they needed to know. 

“No matter what the answer is,” Patton told him, reaching out to hold onto his hand tightly, “we’ll figure it out together, okay?” 

Logan flipped his notebook over, abandoning the list of questions to set the tip of his pen to a blank page. “I’ll record the information verbatim. It’ll ensure we don’t miss anything.” 

Embarrassingly enough, Roman’s eyes began to sting. He cleared his throat, smiling weakly at his best friends. “Thanks, guys.” 

The question sat heavy on the back of his tongue, the shape of words practically memorized after the many times he’d spoken, shouted, screamed them. When he looked forward to the alien, though, he realized that there was something else he owed it to them to ask. 

“What’s your name?” 

The alien went rabbit-still for a moment, a reflexive attempt to hide that Roman was pretty sure meant they were surprised. He didn’t rush them; he was pretty surprised at himself, too. 

Finally, they leaned close to the speaker again. “I am known as Anxiety.” 

“Anxiety?” Patton echoed, his eyebrows lifting in bewilderment. 

The alien shuffled their hands over each other in an uncertain-looking gesture before speaking into the translator, a little quicker now. “Was that the wrong word? The direct translation is more like ‘he who fears needlessly’?” 

“Anxiety… is a good word for that, yes,” Logan answered after another uncertain pause. “It simply isn’t a word we would usually use as a name.” 

“Alien,” Anxiety replied succinctly, with another one of those forearm shrugs. 

Roman nodded, fitting the name carefully into the list of things they’d learned about this stranded stranger. “My name is Roman, and this is Logan and Patton.” 

Each of them waved on cue, one perfunctory and the other over-enthusiastic. Anxiety glanced between them for a moment before apparently giving in to his curiosity. 

“Who is first?” he asked through the translator, earning three confused looks. 

“I’m the oldest?” Roman offered, not in the least confident that this was the answer Anxiety was looking for. “But not by that much? We’re all in the same grade, um, which basically means we’re only a few months apart in age.” 

Anxiety didn’t lose the air of puzzlement, but he shook his hand in the ‘no’ gesture. “Nevermind. Ask your questions.” 

Roman swallowed, his nerves returning to him twofold, and forced the words past numb lips. “What… What happened to my brother?” 

Although Anxiety had almost certainly expected the question, his limbs still flexed behind him, trembling slightly with tension. Foreboding sunk into Roman like a stone through water. 

“Your brother was abducted,” Anxiety finally answered, the translator turning the words flat and stilted. “Stolen, but most likely alive.” 

Alive. Alive. Most likely alive. Roman’s chest felt like it might burst with how hard his heart was beating.

“Why? What are they going to do to him?” he asked, his voice rising louder in his desperation. Patton squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

Anxiety’s hesitance stretched even longer. This time, after speaking into the translator, he shuffled backwards slightly. Preparing for a violent response to whatever he’d just said. 

“Deathworlders are valuable in some circles. That crew is money-hungry. They probably took him to use as a champion in illegal fighting rings. Dangerous, but not lethal if he can fight,” the translator spit out dutifully. 

Fighting rings. Roman thought about every movie scene he’d ever watched with gladiators, every news article about local dog fighting, every old story about men shoved into a pit of starving lions. Pictured Remus, dropped into some horrible real-life version of that scene from Star Wars, but without magic powers or even so much as a lightsaber to his name. 

He felt sick. His hand went limp in Patton’s grip, nausea churning in his gut. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. What could he possibly say to that? How was he supposed to ask about his own brother’s odds, his life expectancy on an alien battleground?

“What do you mean by ‘Deathworlder’?” Logan asked, his gaze sharp as he picked up the slack. 

Anxiety’s attention was clearly riveted on Roman’s response, but he managed to answer after several seconds passed without anyone lashing out, leaning forward again. 

“It’s a title. Sapient species that originate from deathworlds.” When this clearly wasn’t as helpful as he thought it would be, he elaborated further: “Planets with harsh terrain, hostile fauna, lethal weather patterns. A Deathworlder has adapted to thrive in these conditions. You make a home out of a place that is difficult for most aliens to even survive.” 

Patton frowned, confused. “You’re surviving just fine, aren’t you?” 

Anxiety’s faceplate twitched slightly, an expression they had no reference for. 

“I thought Patch would kill me for our entire first interaction.” For the first time, a sense of his voice was audible even through the machine-tone translator. “I pay attention to danger. This planet is full of things that could very easily kill me.” 

His extra limbs twitched slightly, as though he’d said more than he’d meant to, and he firmly averted his gaze to the ground. 

Abruptly, Roman realized that they were one of the things Anxiety was referring to. The primal panic that they’d witnessed while interacting with him wasn’t a farce or an exaggeration. To Anxiety, humans were a potentially lethal threat.

“Patch?” Patton asked.

The angles of Anxiety’s back limbs shifted to point at where Lady Macbeth was sprawled out in a beam of sunlight, content that all was well within her kingdom. 

“You renamed my cat?” Roman asked incredulously, and then, more pressingly, “If you thought she was going to kill you, why did you befriend her? You tried to stab me the moment we made eye contact!” 

Anxiety’s arms twitched in what seemed like a hastily-aborted shrug. “Predatory beasts normally kill to eat or to defend territory. Sapient species are capable of a lot worse. If I am going to die, I want it to be quick.” 

Something about the way the words were spoken, present tense and oddly direct, made Roman’s skin prickle unpleasantly. It was uncomfortably close to a request. 

(Sure, Anxiety understood their language, but had they ever said aloud that they wouldn’t kill him?)

“To aliens, humans are dangerous?” Logan asked, dragging them back on-topic. “How so? From my perspective, you have more natural weapons than we do.” 

Anxiety made a dragging chirp that seemed to serve as a wordless scoff. “Humans are impossible to kill. I bite you, and you hit me. My bite bothers you, but your hit shatters my exoskeleton. I bleed out and I die. Your body heals and you live.” 

Patton looked discomfited at the very idea.

“Aliens are delicate, compared to us,” Logan surmised. “Because the environments they evolved in weren’t as hostile as Earth.” 

Anxiety nodded a fist in confirmation. 

By the time Logan turned to him with a grim look, Roman had already put the same pieces together. 

“They wanted Remus because they were sure he would win,” he said, fists clenched at his sides. “Because he’s a Deathworlder, so he’s hard to kill.” 

Remus wasn’t being tossed to the lions. He was the lion, trapped and caged far from home. A monster only let loose to slaughter. 

Sure, maybe his brother wouldn’t die, but what kind of a life was that? Remus was sixteen. He was supposed to be trespassing in abandoned buildings with his shithead friends and creating bizarrely gory trash sculptures for his art portfolio, not fighting for his life in front of a crowd of alien scumbags. 

“How do we get him back?” he asked, lifting his jaw stubbornly.

Anxiety only watched him, making no move to speak into the translator. 

“Come on, there has to be a way,” he urged, shoving to his feet and staring down at the alien. “He can’t just be gone. I have to help him! You have to do something!” 

Patton stood too, frowning in a way that suggested he thought Roman needed to back off, take a few deep breaths. 

“Please!” Roman added instead, his voice cracking down the middle of the plea. “Please.” 

Anxiety shifted to press the record button again, but the laptop screen flickered and faded, nonresponsive. Their battery power had run out. 

With a displeased sound, Anxiety slowly rose back to his full height, immediately moving several steps away, and for a moment, Roman thought that was it, his begging had been rejected. It was hopeless, and there was nothing else to be said. 

Then, there was a strange crackling sound from Anxiety, who had turned to face away from them in an uncharacteristic move, his spidery limbs shifting tensely. 

“Give t—ime,” he spoke, the words nearly made unfamiliar by the odd pronunciation. “Thhhin—k.” 

“Think?” Roman echoed with uncertainty; the ‘th’ sound dragged so long it was almost a hiss. 

“You need time to think of a way?” Logan interpreted, clearly exercising all his willpower to remain where he was instead of circling around to see Anxiety’s face. 

“T—ry,” Anxiety emphasized. “Don—t. Hope.”

“Trying is all we can do,” Patton replied warmly, while Roman was still puzzling out the soft clicks Anxiety was using for the ‘T’ sound. “Thank you for trying to help us, Anxiety.” 

There was another odd noise, like the crinkling of paper, and Anxiety’s face was as concealed as ever when he turned and hurried back over to his makeshift bed, apparently done with speaking for the day. 

Feeling more than a little exhausted himself, Roman didn’t begrudge him it. All that mattered was that Remus was alive, and they would figure out a way to rescue him. Anxiety might have warned them not to hope anything came of his efforts, but long odds had never stopped Roman from hoping before. 

He wasn’t giving up on his brother. No matter what it took to bring him home. 

[danieyells]

. . .I could've sworn I did Ritsu's already. Apparently not. Yuri's one of my favorites and he's the one I chose in the beginning so I'm saving his for when I'm a little better rested(I have Monday off because of another doctor's appointment, so that's the lastest i'll post it)

RITSU IS SO. . .I LOVE HIM. I'll rag on him a lot because he's so tunnel visioned and just like. . .repressed. And he needs to touch grass(figuratively) but also. . .when you've been set from childhood to work and care only for your work and only know your work. . .it's understandable that he is the way he is. . . .

The way he changes as his affinity goes up is very repressed too. . .but you can still see the change at the end a little. He's a very stagnant character. . .but still interesting to look into the mannerisms of.

Default:

"Any self-respecting inspector would stay comfortably ahead of schedule—I suggest you get into the habit. Let's go—there's no time to waste."

dude this is the 'you've logged in for the first time today' dialogue why are you assuming that i must be late! rude.

"I have been assigned to Sinostra, so I will not allow them to stand trial, no matter how villainous their actions. That is the Shinjo family policy."

"I shall ensure the Gala is held this year, and that Sinostra will wear the Laurel Crown. I have never made a promise I couldn't keep."

boy i can't wait for that to fall through--he, respectfully, needs the humbling.

"I've read the Compendium of Laws countless times since I was a child. Memorizing its contents is a rite of passage for the eldest son of the Shinjo family."

and somehow it ended up an artifact he can use as a weapon? I really wanna know what it does tbh.

"What business do you have with me? Please keep in mind that I charge 5500 yen per half hour for consultations, tax inclusive."

(roughly $35USD, although it's faster to just think of it as $55--) WE ARE BUSINESS PARTNERS. WHAT ARE YOU CHARGING A MFER FOR.

"As long as I have a notebook, my business cards, a binder, paper, and my voice recorder, I can handle the initial stages of any case."

i need my binder every day too ritsu.

You've Got Mail:

"Did you check that notification yet? We could have a request from a client, so please do so right away."

Affinity 1:

"{PC}. Are you aware of the responsibility your position as inspector entails? I suggest you tidy your appearance and wipe that vacant look from your face."

they do not need to be aesthetically in order to be inspector. as long as they're paying attention it may even be better to look vacant. lure them into a false sense of security. also it's easier to pay attention if you're comfortable, in my experience. . . .

Affinity 2:

"You've lost your notebook? Just a moment. ...At 9:04 AM, it was inside the photocopier. Yes, I do have that information recorded."

Affinity 3:

"Have you seen Taiga Hoshibami? Strange... According to my behavioral model, he should be in the casino at this time..."

Affinity 4:

"At the end of each day, I compile information about every person I encountered in my notebook. It always proves useful eventually."

yandere adjacent behavior, except it's for everyone and not just one person lolol

Affinity 5:

"The vice-captain has asked me to organize some documents. Let's start by making copies of everything in case the originals become lost or damaged."

Romeo has a line that references this as well! He didn't realize where Ritsu went, just that he ran off with the documents he was given lmaoooo

Affinity 6:

"I always have my business cards on hand. It should go without saying—any lawyer who fails to gain their client's trust during the first meeting is not worth their salt."

Affinity 7:

"A post-meal coffee must be drunk black. Unnecessary additives only interfere with the natural flavor."

Affinity 8:

"Until the age of three, I spent my days visiting the greatest sights the world has to offer with my mother, as from four my studies would prevent me from doing so."

is that child abuse? i think that's child abuse. you learn the source of ritsu's problems very early on in his affinity--he has had zero normal social interaction opportunities and no childhood. From birth until he stopped being a toddler he was just flying around the world looking at beautiful things, no stability in his location or world aside from the presence of his mother, and then he went home and probably basically got locked away to study law the moment he could sort of read. His whole existence was molding him to work. . .Subaru is similar, even down to what age they were forced to start preparing to work at. But Subaru is at least better adjusted, probably because acting awarded him better opportunities to try and think about how other people think.

Affinity 9:

"According to my behavioral model, there is a 29% chance that Taiga Hoshibami is currently at the baccarat table."

Affinity 10:

"I review the day's coursework for two hours then prepare for the next day's classes for three— no more, and no less. Six more minutes of silence, please."

WHERE DO THE RECORDINGS COME IN TO THIS. This mans somehow has 40 hour days. Maybe his artifact slows down time or something lol

Affinity 11:

"Good morning, {PC}. We have a meeting at 3 PM today, so please adjust your plans accordingly."

Affinity 12:

"Darkwick Rulebook Article 183: "For the protection of anomalies, unnecessary running indoors is prohibited." This rule has been in place for over one hundred years."

wait how old is this school? how old is the Institute???

Affinity 13:

"All right. We need to organize our notes from today's investigation, so let's relocate to the diner. Our usual booth, of course."

Affinity 14:

"The content of our classes may be novel, but I topped the year in the scholastic ability test—they are nothing I can't handle."

so among the first years' scholastic ability tests, Ritsu was 1st, Leo was 2nd, Sho was 5th. Considering there are only four new first years then that must include the general students too. I wonder where Ren placed? Probably not very high. But still, Ritsu is a genius. . .or at least very very good at memorizing information. Lots of book smarts, minimal other smarts.

Affinity 15:

"As your business partner, I request that you improve your conduct. Please refrain from consenting to any further uncompensated labor."

Affinity 16:

"Our Anomalous Law classes are truly fascinating. There is a long history well worth learning about— though of course, I have already mastered the basics."

Affinity 17:

"I cannot afford to be complacent, even before bedtime. It's vital that I check the day's notes again to ensure nothing has been missed."

Affinity 18:

"I set time aside in the evening to watch opera performances online. It allows me to get my thoughts in order, and provides a change of pace."

when??? what time??? because he has to review all of the audio recordings and notes from the whole day--what time does he have to do anything in???

Affinity 19:

"I just finished checking my recordings from today. You sighed a total of four times— is something troubling you?"

i love the vibe of this. rather than silently nothing your sighing and potential exhaustion or scolding you for not caring for yourself, he expresses concern towards you. also, it's so soft yandere. like he already records everything you say and do, to confront you over it on top of that he shamelessly defends his recording and notetaking. . .if not for that he recorded everyone it would really be so yandere lolol. instead it's just his odd and overbearing way of showing he's beginning to care.

Affinity 20:

"You struggle to get up in the morning? I can contact you each day at a set time if you like, but I'll have to think about how much to charge..."

affinity 20 and my guy still wants to charge for his time. . .we're gonna have to teach him to have A Singular Normal Social Connection aren't we. and we're probably gonna fail.

Affinity 21:

"You wish to have lunch with me? All right. We are business partners, so I will accompany you free of charge."

wait maybe i spoke too soon.

Affinity 22:

"This is for you, {PC}— it's the takeout coffee I often purchase. Your performance will decline if your mind isn't sharp."

his increased attachment is shown in the bare minimum of understanding normal human social interaction and caring for you by sharing his things and his time without charge. In trying to make you the best you(from his perspective) that you can be. Because that's what his parents did for him--so surely that's the best expression of love he has, aside from obsessive study and understanding.

Affinity 23:

"I feel we made solid progress toward the reinstatement of the Gala today. Let's reconvene again tomorrow and continue working together to realize our goal."

Affinity 24:

"Could I ask you to accompany me a little longer, {PC}? I realize it's outside of business hours, but...I would appreciate it if you could make a special exception."

He wants to spend time with you. And he's realizing he can just ask that. But he's so entrenched in legal and business mannerisms he doesn't know how to say "i want to be around you for longer". You're his business partner. It's bad form to request your attention outside of work, it has no value towards your goals and business efforts, but. . .that he's making a sort of formal appeal for your attention outside of work is as far as he can get in terms of expressing his affection right now.

Affinity 25(max):

"It seems we make better business partners than I would have expected. I look forward to a long and prosperous relationship with you."

kind of comical that his max affinity line is still so formal after a more friendly 'please spend time with me late at night' 24th. . .but also, he wants you to be his business partner for longer. i think that counts towards something! It's a reason to stay with you! Maybe over the course of your business partnership he'll learn how to express deeper feelings. . .he's going to need an heir, after all--

Spring:

"There has been a noticeable increase in reports of suspicious activity of late. More incidents means more business. Be prepared."

"You have a petal in your hair. A little more to the right. No, not there. Just let me remove it. Hold still."

"Indeed, the cherry blossoms are in bloom. Incidentally, Japan's oldest cherry blossom tree can be found in Yamanashi Prefecture and is estimated to be 2000 years old."

ritsu would probably kill at historical trivia night.

"I had tempura at the cafeteria today. It didn't come close to the tempura I would eat with my father at the historic soba restaurant we used to frequent though."

Summer:

"This one is for my face, and this is for my body. I have six handkerchiefs with me— enough for morning, noon, and night. I cannot let my opponents see me sweat."

why's this giving me ace attorney prosecutor energy. . . . .

"I witnessed a half-naked man running around in this vicinity. Did you see him? He is risking a charge of indecent exposure."

but we saw Kaito in his underwear and you said that meant he wasn't at risk of indecent exposure. . . . . . . .

"The warmer it gets, the more of a racket people make. Honestly, how were these people raised?"

to relax and have fun during the summer break. . .you should give it a try.

"You want to go and watch the fireworks? A rather childish request, but all right. So? Where would one go to view them?"

FIREWORKS DATE FIREWORKS DATE just don't touch him without getting his consent first that could be counted as sexual harassment and he'll Get Your Ass.

Autumn:

"The weather is much more pleasant for going out on professional errands now. A first-rate lawyer keeps their boots on the ground. Now then, let's get going."

"I object to the cultural assumption that fall is the season of the arts. The arts should be enjoyed throughout the year, regardless of the season."

you and yuri would get along well i think. until you realize the guy is a medical malpractice suit waiting to happen. then you'd criticize him and he would take that so poorly.

"Once I've perused the relevant documents in the library, I plan on doing some reading. Please excuse me."

"The nights may grow longer in the fall, but daylight hours should not affect the time you rise and retire. I'll see you tomorrow."

Winter:

"I have detected a change in how Taiga Hoshibami divides his time since the weather has taken a cold turn. It has created quite a quandary for me..."

yeah he doesn't like getting out of bed when it's cold. he also eats a lot more, like a bear about to hibernate. shockingly behavior patterns tend to change with the seasons.

"I've never experienced snowfall heavy enough to obstruct my movement, but I'd like to deepen my knowledge of the phenomenon for future reference."

to frostheim then! i'm sure that place is just awful for movement in winter.

"I'm heading to the diner to fulfill a request from Ren Shiranami. Perhaps I shall enjoy a warm bowl of soup while I'm there."

. . .I wonder if this is an Obey Me!Raphael situation where he has no grasp of that the food is not good. . . .

"People say that hard work is the key to success, but it only took me a year to master German—as was the case with Italian and French."

His birthday:

"Indeed, today is my birthday. I've always celebrated this day by enjoying my mother's cooking, but from this year I am striving for a more self-reliant existence."

MAMA'S BOY MAMA'S BOY tbf up until he was 3 his mother was probably his only social connection and then he was locked away studying so. . .his mom is probably the only one he has like. . .personal feelings and attachment for. you'll be a tradwife too :) but also that he's trying to be more self-reliant at darkwick. . .that really does explain that he's like. not used to any sort of social interaction or doing things he hasn't been told to do by his parents. maybe in his time at darkwick he'll realize how good it feels to just. . .be a person. dedicate time to fun and relaxation. realize that work isn't everything. or maybe he'll be so judgemental towards the lifestyles of others he'll retreat even further into his current habits.

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday. A year older, a year wiser. I have high hopes for your performance in the coming year."

New Years:

"Happy New Year. Let's devote these next 365 days—or 8760 hours—to finding fitting solutions to the challenges that come our way."

what if it's a leap year. can we take the extra day off?

Valentine's Day:

"Thank you for the chocolates. Are you gifting them to me out of social obligation, or is this an expression of affection? Your answer will influence what you receive in return."

(for the uninitiated, that is very much a thing in Japan where on valentine's day a girl give some men in her life--like coworkers--obligation chocolates, which are generally not as nice and most likely store bought, although this practice is losing ground. friends get friendship chocolate and you give people you're actually attracted to or in a relationship more extravagant, expensive, or homemade chocolates to express your true feelings or a desire to be in a relationship with them. Ritsu is essentially asking 'is this because we're coworkers or are you asking me out' because White Day is the day for return gifts in response to given valentine's day gifts, and in the case of chocolates given to someone you wanna go out with they can act as a response to that proposal. presumably if you're asking him out he wants to give you chocolate to agree to get with you, since he's bothering to ask. . . .

White Day:

"White Day has its roots in Japan, having been invented by a certain historic confectionery shop. With that knowledge, please accept this."

'here's some trivia. and some chocolates. we are now in a relationship. should this be as fruitful as our business partnership, we can discuss marriage plans within the year.'

April Fool's Day:

"The spreading of false rumors is subject to strict punishment under Article 233 of the Penal Code. Do you still intend to continue this ruse?"

NO FUN ALLOWED.

Halloween:

"Coercing another party to choose between a "trick" or a "treat" could amount to intimidation. Engage in such festivities at your own risk."

NO FUN ALLOWED PART TWO: ILLEGAL BOOGALOO.

Christmas:

"Religious freedom is guaranteed by Article 20 of the Constitution. If this is a day that you wish to celebrate, then I will accept that."

he can't make you work on religious holidays you need off!!

Idle:

"Five seconds have elapsed. Yes, that is how long you've kept me waiting."

"How long do you intend to keep me waiting? As always, I am on a tight schedule today. Please hurry up."

Absent:

"I've been expecting you, {PC}. You weren't planning on breaking your promise to me, were you?"

SUCH A HARD-WORKING, SOCIALLY INEPT LAD. But Ritsu's a lot of fun, I give him a lot of shit and i desperately need him to touch some grass and get a reality check and learn about how others live and maybe experiment. . .but like i love him for being such a little shit. he's so. . .ignorant to the rest of the world and how other people are. . .i love seeing him try and dissect other people's behavior and intentions and coming to the conclusion that they must want the same things as him because he just. . .has no grasp of interests and intentions that aren't his own. . . . It makes me facepalm but also makes me laugh 8'D good boy. quality boy.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry wandered back from Dumbledore’s office in a daze. He continued to question what he could possibly learn about how to defeat Voldemort by taking a trip down memory lane, as he had since these meetings had started, but now he felt added stirrings of discomfort. Like his skin was a size too small or he’d walked through an invisible spiderweb.

Voldemort, back when he’d been Tom Riddle, was… very much like Harry. Dumbledore could say that their choices defined them and made them different or whatever, and maybe he was right. But seeing how Riddle was talked about by the matron, how Dumbledore treated him in that first meeting – it made Harry realise how very easily he could have been the evil outcast, if anyone had listened to the Dursleys’ lies, or found out about his parseltongue abilities, or if he hadn’t already been lauded as some hero since he’d been a baby. As much as he didn’t like the fame and the wild mood swings of the magical population’s attitude towards him, Harry knew those expectations had guided his path and moulded who he was becoming.

Dumbledore’s actions were… well, unkind was possibly the nicest way to put it. He had instantly judged an eleven-year old as irredeemable, pretended to light all his worldly possessions on fire, and didn’t seem to find anything wrong with how he’d acted even sixty years later. Yes, Riddle hadn’t exactly helped his case with that talk of hurting things, but Harry had seen that desperation for connection, for belonging, that he’d once felt.

And then there was the added fact that he was being shown private moments from Riddle’s history. Harry knew how he’d feel if someone was shown his memories of life at the Dursleys. He still hadn’t told anyone about the cupboard under the stairs, and the rest his friends only guessed at.

Maybe he was reading too far into things, or projecting his own situation. Maybe Ron and Hermione were right and his saving-people-thing was showing. After all, hadn’t Riddle grown up to be a megalomaniac who led a hate group that murdered and tortured muggles and muggleborns? Maybe there should be limits to Harry’s empathy.

But Harry’s secret power was love, according to Dumbledore. If caring was what differentiated him from Voldemort – and especially since he couldn’t seem to stop it even when it left him gutted, cold and alone – then dammit, Harry was going to care.

So, Harry did what he did best (?) and leapt headfirst without looking.

Ducking into a dusty, moonlit classroom, he leaned against a desk, pulled out a bit of parchment and quill, and started to write.

Voldemort,

So, on a scale of one to ten, how pissed would you be

Hope you haven’t murdered anyone lately oh wait it’s you

Hey. I wanted you to know that Dumbledore showed me the memory of you receiving your Hogwarts letter. At the orphanage. With the whole fire wardrobe thing. 

I feel like I should apologise. It definitely seems like an invasion of privacy and I didn’t want to know, but now I do, and I’m sorry?

Is this weird? This is weird.

Anyway, I also saw the matron talking about you, but I know that sometimes people lie for stupid reasons, so here’s a one-time opportunity of me asking for your side of the story. If you want.

You probably don’t care.

– Harry (Potter)

Before Ron or Hermione found out or he could think better of it, Harry snuck up to the owlery and tied the letter to a nondescript school owl. (Hedwig was incensed that he would use another bird and pecked at his head a few times before flying off to the rafters to give him the cold shoulder, but there was no way he’d send his beloved owl off to Voldemort. Sorry, school bird.)

He returned to the Gryffindor common room as soon as the owl flew off, putting the letter as far from his mind as possible. After all, it wasn’t like he’d receive a response.

(thus, friends absent speak)

[nrilliree]

TG's favourite retort: Bbbbut what about Daemon? Daemon this. Daemon that.

It's excruciatingly boring to see how they act Daemon can be used as a 'gotcha' for TB and is proof that both sides are 'equally bad'. Or that Daemon is as bad as Aegon and Aemond or even worse.

To put it in simple words because anything else won't be understood by them, Daemon falls in the category of GRRM's antiheroes which also includes Jaime Lannister and Oberyn Martell, both of whom are highly romanticized by the fandom. Jaime's deeds need no introduction. It should also be taken to note that Oberyn - the fandom's darling - besides being a known whoremonger - has also used physical violence on Obara's mother in canon and was indirectly responsible for her death by separating her from her daughter.

Anyway, it is obvious that all three of the abovementioned characters are far from morally upstanding human beings. They are not without their shortcomings, some of which have no justification. Yet, to many, they are fascinating because besides being capable of cruelty, they are also able to act within the bounds of reason many a times and possess a capacity for love. Such characters provide ample scope for one's imagination to run wild.

On the other hand, Aegon and Aemond are, in plain and clear words, villains and two of their actions stand as proof.

a) Aegon's brutal murder of Gerardys which is described in detail in the book. That man was an innocent maester who was trying to do his duty by helping Aegon. His only perceived offence was that he had served Rhaenyra.

b) Aemond's massacre of House Strong which is also detailed in which no member including children - trueborn or bastard - was spared save for Alys who was taken as a war prize.

The reason for singling out these two acts in specific, out of all other heinous ones committed by Alicent's sons in the book, is that they are often swept under the rug by the same lot who can't stop crying about B&C which was a reaction to yet another of the Greens' crimes. Aegon and Aemond acted unprovoked without any rhyme or reason and their actions are more in line with those of Joffrey and Ramsay. Or, if we have to pick from their own contemporaries, Hugh and Ulf. Not morally gray or antiheroic like the fics attempt to reimagine them as but plain evil. Even the greenpilled maesters couldn't conceal it despite trying their best.

Now, people can like whatever character they wish to for whatever reason. That's none of my business. But blatant denial of canon while propagating all kinds of fanon is another matter altogether. The fact remains that Daemon ,even at his worst, pales before the Greens' villainy and no amount of whataboutery and denial is going to change that.

Daemon committed one crime throughout the entire Dance - B&C. Yes, it was a cruel crime. But why should the death of one high-born child be treated as a greater tragedy than the death of hundreds of children from the cities that the TG plundered and burned? Why is he considered a "villain" by TG and the TG boys are considered "misunderstood"? This is truly unimaginable to me. Especially when such accusations are made to the book.

Daemon is not good. Daemon is not evil. He is something in the middle and it is the fact that for some he can be considered a hero and for others a villain that makes him such an interesting character. And it really hurts me that the series ruined it so much.

[scimagic]

Pride and Joy (Mr. Puzzles/Bi! Female! Reader)

───── ⋆ ⋅ ⋆ ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ⋆ ⋅ ⋆ ─────

After a conversation about sexual orientation, you ask Mr. Puzzles a bit of a heavy question about himself and realizations ensue.

Happy Pride Month!! I usually try to keep my content as reader neutral as possible (I don't like to assume things that the reader might not be!) but this is more self-indulgent than usual and I hope you forgive me for that! To celebrate this month, why don't I hit my f/o with the bisexual beam? Hope you enjoy!

"… Puzzles, no offense, like— at all, but do you think maybe you're… gay?"

The TV host sputters in surprise, "I— excuse you?"

"Again, no offense. But to me it kinda sounds like you… haven't really thought about it."

The TV grows silent, no doubt a frown taking the place of his smile. For once—instead of snapping back and waving away such a silly statement—he actually gives it a thought. A sparingly rare one.

He looks away with a nervous hum, shoulders slumping as you walk along the sidewalk. You both keep a slow pace, trying to refrain from tripping as you walk and keep a conversation that is surprisingly much more serious than you anticipated to have.

The leaves of the trees rustle and provide you shadow for your evening walk with your boyfriend, a walk you offered to have as a casual little date. You thought you could stop by stores to shop, or a cafe to sit down, but at the moment— your conversation turned into this. Identity questions, personal preferences, things to better know each other.

But maybe this one was a bit too far...

He was very open about his upbringing, sure, but it sounded like even he didn't know what he liked in people. You suppose that a life like that didn't have much room to explore things about ones self. Let alone explore partner preferences. Hell— you would say you're very lucky to even have had a chance to date him.

Regardless...

You let him gather his thoughts, silently waiting for his response. No use in rushing these type of things, after all. They take time. Otherwise it would be messy for both of you.

Puzzles turns back to the ground below, and like you guessed— with a nervous expression on his screen.

"It's… complicated. I've seen shows about it, but ah… they've never really spoken to me as such. Perhaps some actions… and some… other things— tsk— but! Hah! I mean! Only recently I've been shown the media I consume is not always true to the actual thing so what do I know!?" He sarcastically and painfully exclaims, a view that got shattered to him when you became friends, yet one he's starting to grow out of. He's aware it's for his greater good, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt him still. To be lied to. To know your years of comfort were a lie.

He huffs angrily as he turns away again, shaking his head before glancing back at you.

"Am I..?"

"Are you? Only you can know that for sure, you might know the answer to that already..! You just… haven't realized it yet."

"…"

He grows silent again, nervously fidgeting with the cloth of his gloves.

"Then… maybe?" He shrugs. "I feel… something, yes. But— but I like you too..! As well… If I am— what would that mean for you? For us?" The host frowns, growing even more nervous at the thought of something happening to his first ever real relationship.

"I don't want to let you go just for this!" He waves his hands in front of him, exasperatedly motioning to your situation. You catch one of his arms, hooking it together with your own as you try to gently ground him.

"Hey—! Hey..! No, nothing has to happen to us! You can like both, you know?"

He takes a pause, looking at you as if you just told him the most confusing riddle ever known to man.

"Huh?"

"Yeah! I like both! I like boys and girls. I uh— have a preference for men but I still like pretty girls." You rub the back of your neck, smiling sheepishly at him.

"… Oh."

"Oh…"

The faintest of heartbeats beeps across his screen, tainting it with a light rose color as the line bounces where his cheeks would be.

"Huh… That…" he looks down at the ground with furrowed eyebrows, then looks back up at the horizon, "fits."

"Yeah?"

"Yes… Only— that's not the term, is it?"

"Ah, no. We're bisexual. You and I."

"You and I… Yes… Yes! I like that!" Puzzles beams happily, smiling wide at you as he squeezes your hooked arms.

"I like that very much."

[pinksiames]

You and me (Against the world)

3154 words of smut!

“Fuck just let me-” a heavy body thumping against their hotel door. John was too excited. Too excited to see Gale, to be able to love him and kiss him and touch him with no fear. Adrenaline rushing through his veins as he finally got the key into the doorknob, waiting for the soft clicking noise as he turned the handle. Gale nervously chewed on his toothpick as he made his way inside, setting his bag down next to the large king sized bed.

“You sure this wasn’t too much Bucky?” He asked. “It seems expensive.” His arms crossed as he took in the large windows that he’d need to cover later, how clean and nice the bed looked.

“You’ve just gotten too used to the shitty barracks. This is their standard. And besides, you deserve to get spoiled with something nice, Buck.” A smirk spread across his lips as Gale's cheeks turned pink.

“Could make a girl blush with that kind of talk.” Gale swallowed, his pulse rising in his throat.

“Well it seems to be making you blush, is that what you are? A girl Buck? My girl?” John’s voice dropped an octave on the last question. They hadn’t been able to really get around to talking about it, but he knew some of the things that turned Gale on. How he pulled his hair, when he grips Gales throat a little too tight, when he was overly rough. General things like that, but one thing that really stuck with him was when he slipped up and called him his good girl instead of his good boy. He had never seen Gale finish so quickly in his hand before.

Gale didn’t say anything, just gave him a soft nod, the heat in his cheeks growing down his neck, the color darkening. That wasn’t going to do.

“I need you to use your words.” A large hand came up and grabbed Gales chin, lifting it up just enough for their eyes to meet. Plump lips parted, as if trying to think what to say.

“Yes,” Gale whispered, his cock straining against his trousers. Have they always been this tight?

“Yes about what?”

“About being.. your girl,” He spoke, feeling a tear run down his cheek. Gale had never been open about something so taboo before. It was already a death sentence when he and Bucky expressed their feelings for each other, slinking around thorpe Abbotts like a bunch of horny teenagers. But this was something else. The feeling of being feminine felt nice. It felt comforting. He was comfortable being masculine, being the man that could be relied on for anything. It was also nice to day dream about not having those responsibilities. To have someone hold him and tell him how pretty he looked. Someone to sweep him off his feet.

“Hey hey don’t cry, doll, ain’t nothing to be ashamed of,” John said, bringing his thumb up to rest on the height of Gale’s cheekbone, wiping the tear away. Making sure to press soft kisses across tan skin before meeting plump pink lips.

“You will always be my girl, Buck. No words could describe how precious you are to me. But my actions can,” he purred, wrapping both his muscular arms around Gales infamous slim waist, hands trailing down to grab full asscheeks.

“Oh fuck...” Gale whined, his forehead resting in the crook of John’s neck. Bucky let his fingers wander, slipping down the back of Gales slacks and past his briefs. Making sure to keep the other man steady he delved between his cheeks, pressing the tip of his middle digit against the rim of Gales hole. Teasing it ever so gently before slowly pressing it in further, then two, then three.

Gale was already seeing stars, just having Bucky touch him like this with not a single care to the wind made him jump, how he could tell he had been wanting this just as long as Gale had. A soft moan vibrated at the back of his throat, teeth nibbling at the skin on John’s neck to keep himself quiet. In desperation, he pushed himself back on John’s fingers, his back arched as his own hand pressed itself against the bulge of John’s pants. He could never mentally prepare himself for how big John was each time they snuck around, how impatient he would get to get the large man in him. Soon after regretting his decision with the lack of prep. But that was then and this is now.

John sucked in a sharp breath, his cock twitching against Gale’s palm. He kept scissoring Gale open, only pulling back to shove his fingers inside of Gale's mouth, letting him run his tongue over each knuckle.

“You Make me wanna devour you princess,” Bucky groaned, ears perking up at the groan coming from the man in front of him. His eyes flickering between how perfect Gale’s lips wrapped around his fingers. How breathtaking he looked with flushed cheeks and glossy eyes. Unable to tear his gaze from his rows of fluffy lashes that brushed over his cheekbones.

He pulled his hand back, not letting the string of saliva connecting them slip from his brain. He slipped three fingers back in with better ease this time, smashing their lips together. He made no attempt at hiding his own sounds, groans and soft grumbles. But Gale was still holding back on him.

“It’s just the two of us darling, no one’s gonna walk in on us. I made sure of it. Just let yourself go,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over Gale's lips. Right at the same time he found that special bundle of nerves, lightly pressing against it.

Gale let out a yelp, precum leaking against his underwear.

“Nmm fuck Bucky, right there please right there again,” he choked, his knees giving a slight buckle. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle a little, finding that spot again. Gale gripped onto John’s shoulders, trying to keep himself afloat.

“I’m not gonna be able to last if you keep this up Bucky,” he whimpered, his breathing unsteady.

“Well we can’t have that yet now can we. Haven’t even gotten out of our skivvies,” he smirked, pulling his fingers back, earning him a whine and a playful slap against his chest.

“You stay there,” John said, making his way to the chair conveniently placed in the corner of the room, facing the bed. Gale couldn’t help but feel awkward, like his body was frozen in place waiting for Bucky's next words. John took his time settling down in the chair, thick thighs spreading as he rested his arms on the sides.

Gale felt like he was being eyed by a predator sizing up its next meal. How John’s warm gaze still made him shiver. John held the contact while he unbuttoned his own shirt, but letting it hang open instead of taking it off.

“Strip for me baby. But go slow.” Gale could hear the rasp and want laced in Johns words, watching as he slowly palmed himself through layers. Gale swallowed, making quick work of his shoes and socks before bringing his hands up to work on the buttons of his shirt. Carefully he exposed more and more of his undershirt, soft hairs poking out at the dip in the neck. Setting aside the cloth he worked on the cotton covering his torso, slowly untucking it from his pants. He grabbed ahold of the hem, little by little his stomach was on full display. Soft lines of muscle decorating his middle with dips in the sides of his waist.

He let it gather with the other discarded piece of clothing before turning around. He unbuckled his belt, pulling it through the loops and laying it down before undoing his pants, the sound of his zipper audible. Grabbing waistband he pulled his undies and pants down at the same time, making a slight show of him bending over. His delicate legs stepped out of the garments, gently pushing them to the side before facing Bucky once more.

Hungry eyes worked their way up and down his body, lingering where his cock stood proud against his stomach.

“C’mere sweetheart.” Tapping the floor between his legs with his foot. “Let me get a good look at you...” a hand reached out for Gale to grasp. He slowly worked his legs over, strutting like a deer in the forest. Graceful but still on guard.

“I promise I ain’t gonna bite ya’ in any way that you don’t like.” He smirked, lowering his hands down onto Gale’s hips once he settled in his designated place. John let his hands hover over Gale’s front, ghosting over the sides of his thighs and up his waist, eyes fluttering closed as he gave Gale’s pecs a soft squeeze.

“Oh my pretty girl, got the nicest pair of tits I’ve ever seen. Soft and squishy...” he groaned, pulling Gale flush against his body as he mouthed at his stomach, leaving light teeth marks up into his sternum, before latching his mouth around a nipple. Gale let out a breathy gasp, throwing his head back as he gripped onto Bucky’s shoulders.

“You like that sweet thing? You like it when I suck on your tits? You like it when I play with them?” A hand raising to play with the other while he continued to suck. He could feel the nub hardening against his tongue, swirling around it and sucking hard like he would a woman. Because that’s what Gale was. His woman.

He could feel Gale rutting up against his own stomach, soft moans passing his swollen lips.

“Bucky, please, it feels so good,” he whined, arching his back trying to press his chest further into John’s mouth. He had never been so needy for something in his life, how John worked his body, knew exactly what to do to get certain reactions out of him.

Bucky kept going, switching between each pec and every so often letting his hand brush over Gale’s aching cock. By the time he pulled back Each tit was covered in hickies and teeth marks, kissing over each one like they were his prizes.

“Now get up on the bed,” he said, spinning Gale around and giving his ass a slap to get him moving.

“On your hands and knees,” he spoke, kicking off his shoes as he settled behind Gale, right between his legs.

“Fuck, Buck... God, baby you look so pretty splayed out like this for me…” John’s voice was laced heavily with lust. Eyes shamelessly wandering over the expanse of Gales back, down the arch of his spine until it melted into the swell of his ass. Large hands worked up and down soft edges and lines, still harsh and worn by the war, and by no means a woman’s softness but Gale's own kind of plush. Something that he could never get with the women he fucked.

Slim waist that was impossible to keep his hands off of, like it lured him in with silent promises of nights like these. Delicate, long legs that screamed to be marked. Asscheeks that begged to be eaten, to be abused. Requests that Bucky was more than happy to oblige.

Bucky could see Gale was already a mess, his legs trembling and arms struggling to keep his upper body up. The hairs on the back of Buck’s neck were sticking with a thin layer of sweat that was slowly moving down his skin. He knew Buck didn’t like feeling exposed like this, especially since John had hardly shredded a single piece of clothing besides his shirt and shoes. But it was a vulnerability he was willing to show with only John.

“Doing so good for me… such a good girl.” A hushed whine came from Gale's direction, his head hung low between his shoulder blades. This was new for him, to have Gale give up complete control. They’re not shy when it comes to intimacy, a few quickies in the showers, stolen touches. Plenty of kisses but they’ve never been able to explore each other like this. Never been able to peel back Gales walls like this.

“Put your arms down for me doll, lay on your chest,” he said, his hand coming up to rest between Gale’s shoulder blades and gently pushing, not moving his hand until Gale was settled. He bit his lip as he grabbed at himself at the sight, globes spread perfectly, cock hanging pretty between Gale’s legs. It made John’s mouth water. He reached over to his own bag and grabbed a bottle of lube he had stashed away, lathering his fingers up before working Gale back open. He started off with two, pressing them in with ease as he began working on Gale's forgotten cock.

Gale’s hips jerked forward at the pressure grabbing his shaft, lips falling open as breathy noises past them. It was too much, John’s thick fingers fucking him open with a calloused hand wrapped around his cock. John made slow strokes, keeping his grip firm around Gale’sbase. He added more lube to his hand, making the slide a bit easier. But the more John kept hitting his prostate, Gale kept getting louder, his sense of control loosening on him. But John kept going, milking Gale for all he had, playing with the same spot over and over until Gale was seeing white. His legs were trembling, trying to keep his lower body supported but to no avail.

“B-Bucky I’m close I can’t hold it-” a borderline scream punctured the room as Gale came, covering John’s hand and his stomach, dripping down onto the sheets beneath them.

“Did so good, Buck, so good for me. But we’re not done here.” John tugged off his undershirt, muscles flexing under his skin as he got off the bed. Gale looked over his shoulder, a confused look crossing his face. He couldn’t quite see John from this angle, making out an arm and a shoulder, but nothing coming clear until the man stepped off to the side. The sight of Bucky's naked body sent a rush of blood to his cock, how large he looked even without layers, how imposing he was. Gale could see the slight drops of sweat running down his stomach, trailing down into his nest of pubic hair sitting right at the top of his cock. The sheer size of him made him shutter, how thick each vein bulged out of the shaft.

“Need you Bucky, need you now,” Gale said, voice slightly rough. He shifted on his knees, hips moving side to side as he kept eye contact with the mountain of a man.

John didn’t say anything, feeling the bed dip below him as he once again settled back into place. He gave Gale’s cheeks a small slap, feeling the skin ripple under his palm.

“You ready for me love?” he asked, hunching himself over Gale’s back, lips pressed close to the shell of gales ear. His cock sitting heavy between Gale’s cheeks.

Gale gave him a quick nod, his left hand reaching back to grab at anything on John. The larger man gently smacked his hand away, lining himself up with Gale’s awaiting hole. He made sure to go slow, plastering himself against the smallest back as he sunk in. John shoved his nose into the crook of Gale’s neck, inhaling deeply and shoving himself in all the way.

Gale let out a cry, the stretch being so much more intense than what he was preparing for. He sucked in harsh, sharp breaths as John bottomed out. the weight on top of him added onto the growing pressure against his straining cock that was trapped between the mattress and his stomach.

“Feel so fucking good, Buck, so tight around me-” his hips pulling back and thrusting back in hard. “Like you were made for me, just me.. Your so fucking wet. Your pussy ate me up like it was nothing. My little cock warmer,” John growled, the words made gales brain foggy. His skin felt like it was on fire in the best way possible, like he was melting into bucky's grasp. His body jolted up the bed with each thrust John shoved into him, large hand intertwining their fingers as he managed to push Gale further into the sheets.

John used his other hand to wrap around Gale’s slender throat, squeezing slightly as he pulled them back up. He made sure they were still flush together, feeling Buck’s arch grow under him.

“Gonna get you knocked up princess, doesn’t that sound good? Have you swollen and round with my babies? Keep you pregnant and happy. I could suck on your tits when they hurt, let you fuck yourself on my fingers cause you can’t reach anymore. Fuck I just might have to do that. You’d be the prettiest mama anyone has ever seen. They’d want to touch you, keep you all to themselves, but your mine buck. All fucking mine.” Buckys thrusts became more and more erratic.

“Yours, all yours, Bucky, nobody has me but you,” Gale choked, precum glistening on the head of his cock. Tears streamed down his face as he reached back to grab onto Bucky’s neck, doing his best to try and meet his thrusts.

“I love you so much, Gale. I’d do anything for you. My sweet angel,” John panted, pressing kisses along gales cheeks and jaw, down to his neck. His hips jerked unevenly, his grip on gales throat growing tighter as his orgasm continued to build up.

Gale couldn’t say anything as more tears spewed down his cheeks, another scream passing his lips as he coated his stomach in another layer of cum. John finished not too far off, the constricting vice grip Gale’s hole had on him became too much, spilling inside of the smaller man.

Loosening his grip on Gale's throat, he laid them back down, keeping Gale close to his chest as he rolled them over onto their sides. Long fingers tracing ribs and hipbones before finally settling on laying to rest Gale’s waist.

They laid there for what seemed like ever without speaking, previous words hanging heavy in the air. They both knew how the other felt, but neither had been able to actually have the guts to speak it. Not to each other. The only way to describe how it felt was having one’s first love, the giddy and excitement of it.

Gale couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face, biting on his bottom lip as he rested his hand on top of John’s.

“I think you were right, John. If there were only two B-17’s left in the air, it would be you and me.” He gave John’s hand a squeeze. John didn’t say anything, but the smile pressing into his neck said everything he needed to hear.

[ladyazurith]

Vil Schoenheit Headcanons

These are some of my headcanon’s for Vil and how I write him/ characterize him.

The woman who gave birth to Vil walked out on both him and his father right after he was born. She and his father were never married, and he was born out of an on-set fling. The woman that is actually VIl's mother, was a makeup artist, who Eric met when Vil was just a baby, and they married, and the woman (I named her Caroline) treated Vil as if he were her son. This is why when he’s asked about who he could have gotten his magic from, he says he doesn’t care. That woman wasn’t really his mother. 

One of the reasons he loves the Fairest Queen and her story so much is because he remembers his mother reading stories about her to him as a small child.  Unfortunately, the woman fell ill when Vil was about 5 years old, and her health declined rapidly and she passed away. This was a very traumatic event for him, that he’s suppressed. 

Most of Vil’s interests lie in his line of work, cosmetics, fashion, acting, etc. But one that he doesn’t talk about much is gardening. Especially cultivating rare and exotic flora that can be used in various potions. 

Vil’s ideas of love and romance are very skewed and jaded because of the fact he grew up in the film industry. With the death of his mother, he lost the one positive example he had in his parents. And was surrounded by people who tended to treat love as leverage for PR and personal gain. This is also why he’s so harsh concerning Cater when he’s been shown to be rather unbothered by other people who are clearly out to use his fame to their advantage. (Azul, Jade, Ace, etc). It’s the romantic angle that ruffles his feathers so much, because of how he’s seen it play out time and again all around him.

He has a terrible sweet tooth, he just has enough willpower to fight it off most days

As shown in Chapter 6, he’s got a very clear personal vs professional side. He’s able to compartmentalize them as separate and distinct. When he talks about Rook’s actions not bothering him at the end of chapter 5 and the start of chapter 6, that’s his professional side talking. On his personal side however I do believe he was hurt, not that Rook voted for RSA, but the fact that he hid his obsession with Neige from him all this time. That I think would feel like a bigger betrayal. (And specifically not that he was a fan of Neige’s but the hiding it bit) 

Vil knows the nonsense that Rook gets up to, stalking Leona and the other beastmen, etc. He turns a blind eye to it because he doesn’t want to lose who he sees as the only real friend he’s ever had. Despite how he might act passively and brush off Rook’s behavior (like in Rook’s portion of the Tsum event when they go to his room) his companionship means more to him than he’s willing to voice. And Yes despite what I said above, I do believe they are great friends. Friends can hurt you sometimes, even if they don’t mean it. People aren’t perfect. 

This is also why I think Jack’s friendship means a lot to Vil, more so than it does to Jack. Jack was the first person who stood up for him and how he was treated. But to Jack, he was just another kid who lived in the neighborhood and hung out and played with him sometimes. 

Leading into, I think part of the reason that Vil has such strong negative feelings toward Neige, isn’t just because Neige was the hero to his villain, but because Neige, despite acting like they’re close friends, never did anything to stop the way he was treated. Yes I know Neige was just a kid, no I don’t really expect him to have truly done something to stop it nor hold him responsible for Vil’s treatment, BUT Vil was also a kid, and I can’t blame him for feeling that way. Kinda like that kid who says they’re your friend, then goes and hangs out with the other kids that bully you. Never registering what the problem is.

We know Vil is a deeply insecure person, especially when it comes to his typecasting as a villain, and I think this extends to his outlook on love and romance, as I stated above he hasn’t had the best examples in his life, but typically the villains don’t get a happily ever after love story, and I think he’d projected that onto himself. Something else he wants but feels he can’t have so he doesn’t try. 

I also think he doesn’t know how to make friends or communicate with people in a casual/social manner. This helps account for how few friends he has. And the one he does is Rook, who basically adopted him and didn’t go away. This is also why I think he can come off as abrasive even when he’s trying to help. Like how he dealt with Epel. 

I also defend his treatment of Epel. I grew up in a very small and isolated town like Epel. I grew up with a lot of backward views because that’s all I was exposed to as a child. In a place where being even slightly different can make you a social pariah, if you step out of line it can be a nightmare. And it takes a lot of stern force to help someone overcome that. Not letting them make excuses. I’m grateful for the people in my life who helped me see differently, my version of Vil essentially, and I was so happy that they showed that Epel appreciates what Vil had done for him. 

I have more but that’s enough for now.