#it's such a hard swerve and I almost choked

[psychedelic-ink]

hornee joel request: soft to feral!joel. he's is an acts of service man who sometimes tries to start with softer touches in the dark, but as he gets more worked up those touches become rougher, more desperate. to the point he's got you bent in half, hands on the back of your knees, not even bothering to get fully undressed. gruff, whiskey-scented praise in your ear ("you like that, girlie? that feel good?"). also I heartily agree with pussydrunk!joel anon lol

alright, so when I first read this when you said "to the point he's got you bent in half" my brain immediately jumped to him bending reader over a surface of some kind and only understood what you meant after reading it again but I've already started writing it, sorry for misunderstanding your request! my bad but I hope you enjoy it still <333

𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 1.2k

summary: It starts with soft touches hidden by the dark. In a world where finding one bed is considered lucky, it means that you and Joel frequently share one. He offers to sleep on the floor, or a tattered couch every time and every time your answer is the same. No. 

warnings: rough sex, piv, joel being joel, angry sex, you-almost-died sex, feral!joel

It starts with soft touches hidden by the dark. 

In a world where finding one bed is considered lucky, it means that you and Joel frequently share one. He offers to sleep on the floor, or a tattered couch every time and every time your answer is the same. No. 

Then it starts. His large hands are on your hips, pulling you closer, his confined cock hot and aching under his jeans. It’s only that at first. Grinding, accompanied by heavy breathing. His scarred hands sneak under your shirt, he grips your breasts, flicking your pebbled nipples with the tips of his fingers. When Joel comes he makes a choked-out sound, swallowing his groans either by biting into your shoulder or breathing heavily through his nose. 

It’s just that. 

Until it’s not. 

You expect to die when a clicker tackles you to the hard ground. It makes a jarring move to bite you and you manage to swerve away from it. But you know you can’t hold on for long. This is it. The end. 

A gunshot echoes, then another one, and then another, until the clicker’s lifeless body falls limp on top of you. Joel shoves it away with a kick, lifts—no—he yanks you up from the ground. So hard that your shoulder ached from the sheer force of it. He’s angry, livid even. 

He doesn’t look at you for the rest of the evening. Barely glances at you when you give him his portion of expired Chef Bouyardee. He just scowls, the crease between his brows deep. 

Frustrated, you drop your plate and head further inside the deserted house. Heading into the first room, you notice it probably used to be a study room. Dust covers every surface and you step forward, touching the wooden table. It must’ve looked beautiful before the outbreak. Your fingers leave a trail of shiny wood in its wake. 

You pull away and shake your head, frustrated. 

Joel finds you. Crossing the room with large steps, he grips your waist. He pulls you flush against him, lips finding the skin between your shoulders and neck. You let out a sigh. 

“You’re not mad anymore?” 

“I told you to fuckin’ stay put,” he grunts, pushing you towards the table. “I’m fuckin’ furious.” 

You smell alcohol on his breath. He must’ve taken a couple of swigs before he came to find you, instead of eating. 

You can feel the dust from the table on your skin as he bends you over it. His large hands grip your hips, pushing you down further against the wood. Joel tugs down your pants until the pair hangs loosely over your knees. Kicking your legs further apart, he slides your underwear to the side and enters you in one swift thrust. You gasp, arching your back in response. Pain blossoms between your legs and your head spins. Hints of pleasure prickle at your skin, forcing a choked-out moan from your lips. He moves with an intensity that makes your body quiver, pushing you further and further against the table. 

"You like that, girlie?" he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "Does that feel good?"

You shudder at how deep his voice had gone. You nod frantically, moans ripping from your throat. He pulls out enough so it’s only the head of his cock stretching you, and with one sharp thrust, he sinks into your heat. You jerk forward, nails clawing at the table. 

“That’s it, take all of it,” he grinds into you, cock dragging against the soft spot that makes you see stars. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? For me to fuck you hard that you forget how shit the world is.” Joel makes a point of emphasizing every word with the slam of his hips. “Sweet thing, you are. Sweet, but fuckin’ reckless.” 

You can feel the splinters of the wood against your skin, but you don't care. Your nerves are on fire —you only feel him and nothing else. The sound of smacking flesh fills the room, his teeth deep in your shoulder as he wraps a hand around your throat. Joel pulls you until your back is flush against him, you hear his belt scraping against the floor with every hard thrust. Your lips part with a gasp. Your lungs expanding with the feel of his hand under your shirt. 

Suddenly his hips still. You’re surprised at how fast tears flood your eyes, blurring your already hazy vision. You whimper, and his cock twitches at the sound. 

“You gonna listen to me from now on?” he asks. “Are you gonna behave?” 

“Yes,” you whimper, sniffling. “I will just…move, please.” 

You lose your grounding, the room around you turning upside down. You find yourself sitting on the desk, your knees being pushed up until they touch your head. Your spine aches, however, the feeling is quickly forgotten when he pushes himself back inside. He feels bigger somehow, thicker.

Joel doesn’t say another word after that. He jackhammers his hips into yours like you’re a toy for him to use. Your breathing grows heavier, every nerve in your body coming alive. Between half-lidded eyes, you notice him looking down, watching his cock disappearing into your dripping cunt.

You’re shaking when his thumb starts circling your clit, heat swirls in your stomach, your muscles tense. Your body tingles with your nearing orgasm. It’s a steady push until Joel decides to part your folds as he fucks himself impossibly deeper. 

Tiny black dots dance across your vision and you cry out. Suddenly everything feels a hundred times more intense, your aching sex a ball of flame. Your fingers seek him out, a need to touch, to feel his heat against your skin. But you can barely reach his thighs with the way the two of you are positioned, the tips of your fingers desperately trying to take a hold of the tense muscle. 

You let out a shaking breath as your orgasm hits you like a truck. It doesn’t come in small, building waves. It’s violent and vivid, the pleasure needling into your skin. Joel finally grants you your wish and releases your legs, as they fall and frame his broad waist, you weakly wrap your arms around him. Only after the fact do you realize he leaned in for your embrace. Craving it as much as you do. 

He keeps still until your tremors have subsided, his lips etched into your neck, kissing and nipping the soft flesh. He’s still hard, cock throbbing deep inside of you. 

“You good?” he breathes out. 

“Yeah.” 

“A’right.” 

You don’t expect him to pull out, hence you’re not ready to be left empty. But the sight he provides you is worth it, he grips his cock, his fist moving in solid, fast, strokes over your stomach. 

He grunts as he comes, spurting his hot cum over your stomach in thick, white streams. Your cheeks heat up at the sight of him. His body shudders, his grip on his cock tight as he continues to stroke himself. His eyes are closed with the intention to hide his bliss, his lips parted. You hear the groans he tries to bite back, and arousal sets your body aflame once more. 

He finally finishes, and his hand falls to his side, his breathing heavy and deep. Both of you too frightened to say a word. 

[mattphobiia]

DRIVERS LICENSE.

disclaimer: fluff to smut to fluff🤗

"are you sure you want to do this now? you are literally shaking with nerves chris." i ask, interlocking my hand with his as i reassure him silently. he takes a deep inhale, going to speak before sighing and resting his head against my shoulder. "it's okay."

"i want to!" he groans, his free hand grips onto my thigh before giving it a small squeeze. "i need something to calm me down or something."

"you'll be perfectly fine chris!" i reassure him, pressing my lips against his cheek before running his hair between my fingers, ruffling his fluffy hair as he begins to smile. "don't be afraid to leave it for another day, no one is rushing you."

"i know..."

"do you just want to drive to the gas station? it's not that far from here so it will be a little easier for you to practice." i suggest, dragging my finger in circular motions against his hand as his shaking slowly begins to stop.

he nods in response, before i release his hand as he inserts and twists the car keys, gripping onto the steering wheel as he pressed his foot down onto the pedal as he nervously swallowed.

"you're doing great, chris." i say, slightly turning up the volume of the music before he releases a deep sigh. "how are you feeling?"

"i feel slightly uneasy but other than that, im okay." he smiles, his grip loosened on the wheel as i could tell his nerves were going away. "i just get that random impulse to swerve to the right, but i wont do that with my passenger princess in the car."

he started to smirk as i roll my eyes, feeling a smile creep onto my face. "stop it, you're almost there by the way." one of his hands slowly rested on my thigh before he pulled over to a quiet area near the gas station, stopping the car as he turns his body towards me. "im so proud of you!" i whisper.

he began to smile before reaching over to me and pulling me onto his lap as he kissed me on the lips, his hands resting onto my hips while he groaned desperately. my hands rested on his shoulders, his hand now slowly moving to my face as he brushed my hair to the side. i felt him get hard beneath me as he broke away, his eyes screaming lust as he hungrily kissed down my neck, leaving dark bruises on display.

"fuck- what's gotten into you?" i giggle, his bright eyes looking back up to me whilst smirking into my skin. his hands moved to my waist, before he began to speak.

"i want you." he replies bluntly, continuing to kiss my neck harshly before a small groan released from me. "backseat?" before i even could get a word out, he swung open the car door and rushed out, carrying me into the back before shutting the door behind him and practically stripping my clothes away.

his pants and boxers were halfway down his legs, already lining up his cock at my entrance as i felt my stomach drop at the wetness between my legs. he slowly began to stick his length into me as i released loud moans from my mouth, he had only done one thrust and i already felt desperate for him.

"chris!" i choke out in a mess, one of his hands wrapped around my neck applying small pressure while the other was placed onto my waist for support. "oh- my god!"

the only words my mind could form was his name, but his pace only seemed to fasten and when i thought he couldn't go any faster, he always proved me wrong. he leaned down to my face, admiring my face before burying my lips into a long kiss as we both groaned in each others mouth. his tip was directly hitting my g-spot and i felt myself begin to let go, grabbing onto his wrist as i held a tight grip on him, panting uncontrollably as i relaxed my body onto the carseat. chris cautiously pulled himself away as he began to dress himself, helping me soon after.

"you alright?" he asks, pressing a kiss against my forehead. "i dont know what came over me but we need to do that more."

"i feel like i should be asking you that. you still anxious now?" i laughed, both of us crawling back to the passenger and driver seats as chris began to reverse the car around.

"i feel a lot better after that, but thanks for being here when i drove for the first time." chris smiles.

"honestly it's no problem, you know ill always be here." i reassure, placing my hand against his on the gear before he turns up the volume on the radio again to normal.

MASTERLIST

a/n: disclaimer this fic was rushed bc i need to post something and im on my way to my nanas BUT GUYS WHAT THE HELLL MY LAST FIC "SOFT" DAMN GOT OVER 300 LIKES TYSM. i actually love you guys i saw so many notifications and that honestly made me feel so much better about work:) ALSO SOME LIKE GOOD WRITERS I FOLLOW SAW IT AND I NEARLY CRIED BC THEIR WRITING IS SO GOOD AND I SECRETLY LOVE THEM😭maybe i just need to write more smut bc damn yall seem to love that shit but i dont blame you😛 honestly i appreciate all of u sm and ill try post more when i can! im visiting my nana for a bit so i may not be writing much so ill be posting drafts n shit. thank you for all the support!

[dorkszn]

ORDINARY LIFE + logan howlett

“Heaven in her mouth, got a hell of a tongue. I can feel her teeth when I drive on a bump. Fingers lettin' go of the wheel when I cum. Whe-wheel when I cum, whe-wheel when I cum. David Carradine, I'ma die when I cum (die when I cum). She just givin' head, she don't know what I've done.”

male reader, drunk reader but logan is drunk too, drunk driving, oral sex, spanking, the claws come out, cum eating

His thick, metal belt buckle clacks against the center console as you drive over the slightly bumpy, winter roads. His left hand gripping the steering wheel while the other sat in your hair, gently holding a fistful of it. His breaths leave in heavy pants and grunts.

Your mouth full of him as you gag and choke around his cock. His pre and your drunken drool dribbling down his length and your chin, glistening along the veins pulsing on his dick.

“Fucking— god,” Logan groans as your tongue sloppily swirls around his fat, leaking tip. Who knew letting some drunk himbo from the bar in his truck would lead to this? You leaned over the center console, your ass slightly perked up in the air, Logan’s dick in your mouth.

The truck jumps as Logan drives over a bump, causing your teeth to graze his slobbered girth. Another low, guttural moan fell from his lips at the feeling. His hand runs down from your hair and over your spine until he reaches the curve of your ass.

Your back arches a bit more as his hand touches it, feeling his palm hit you through your jeans—the motion almost a praise for the accidental graze. Logan drunkenly smirks slightly as he glances over and sees the way your arch deepened. “Slut,” he comments lowly.

You pull your head up, releasing him from your lips with a sinful pop. “Says you,” you retort, your words slightly slurred. Your lips glimmer in his essence. He glances down at you, his smirk faltering slightly.

“The hell is that supposed to mean— oh shit.” His words fall into a pornographic noise as you drag your tongue over his slit and lewdly suck on his tip. The truck swerves before Logan quickly fixes the wheel, his knuckles turning white as he tightens his hold on it.

“Dognt cheel me, jhackcass,” “Don’t kill me, Jackass” is what you meant to say. But kinda hard to talk when your mouth is stuffed with cock, ain’t it?

“Oh shut up,” Logan mumbles, his hand coming down on your ass again. You let out a choked whine around him, the vibrations of your throat shooting straight to Logan, his hand gently squeezing your ass in response.

You bring your hand up, wrapping it around Logan’s base, and begin pumping him there. Your mouth shifts to kiss and suck at the higher inches of his dick, completely lost in the motion as your intoxicated mind moves on autopilot.

The truck swerves again slightly as Logan’s eyes roll and his teeth press together. His other hand subconsciously grips your belt to stabilize as he straightens the wheel. “Logan, careful,” you grumble at him with a slight whine. “You’re gonna kill me before you even cum.”

“We’ll be fine,” Logan huffs out once he finds his ground again. “Or, well, I’ll be fine.” He adds. You roll your eyes at his words before taking him into your mouth again. It feels like only minutes before the truck is screeching to an abrupt halt.

Logan’s hand tightens around the wheel while the other grabs the plump of your ass through your jeans. His fingers digging into you. His head was slightly thrown back against the seat and his eyes squeezed shut. “Oh fucking Christ—“ his moans fill the truck as his cock pulses on your tongue and he cums down your throat. A sudden, sharp snkit followed his lewd noises.

You can’t see the cause of the noise as you try to focus on breathing and swallowing every white spurt he releases. Though some of it leaks out your messy lips anyway. When his fingers finally let go of your ass a little bit, you slowly pick your head up. Then you catch the cause of the sound.

Three metal claws between his knuckles that glisten in the moonlight shine through the windshield. A smirk covering your wet lips. “That good, huh?” You ask as you look at him. One of his sharp brown eyes opens as he looks at you. Smirking, eyes glassy, lips kiss-swollen, and chin slick.

Logan lets his claws graze over your waist as he pulls his hand back, sending an excited shiver up your spine. His mutation retracts back into his skin as he grabs your chin, swiping up some of his spilled seed. “Shut up and swallow,” he mumbles. He pushes his thumb into your mouth, letting you lick the rest of it off.

Afterward, you sigh softly and settle back into your seat, wiping your skin clean. You watch as Logan puts himself back in his boxers. “You got anything to eat?” You ask him.

“Why, so your breath can smell shittier than it already does?” Logan questions snarkily even though he knows he’d make out with you again a hundred times over.

You scoff, watching as he zips and buttons his jeans again. “No, jackass and your cum taste like the goddamn Indian Ocean,” you shoot back at the man. Logan shoots you a small glare before he presses down on the gas pedal again.

Logan just grumbles under his breath a bit before answering, his eyes on the dark road ahead. He reaches over and pops open the glove compartment and hands you a bag of something. You take it from him with a grin.

“Thanks, Lo,” you hum as you open the bag and begin eating whatever he gave you.

“Yeah, just don’t throw up in my truck,” he says back, giving you a small side eye as he watches you practically stuff your face.

“Heard.” You answer playfully with a stupid grin as you pop more of it past your lips.

[steviewashere]

Had an idea, half-wrote a fic. (as I do) CW ahead: Negative Stimming, Self-harm via Stimming, Mild Disassociation, Meltdown

Autistic Steve Harrington who hates horror movies because they're so loud and so unexpected and all it does for him is trigger a meltdown rather than any sort of pleasure. He hates loud noises, hates being startled, hates things being unexpected. Finds it hard to listen to Eddie's music sometimes, just solely based on how loud it is.

He can't take terribly long drives in traffic because of the intensity of all the sounds: birds above, cars ahead, honking and tires squealing, people yelling out their windows. Hates having his radio on louder than like volume level 5.

And one day, after forcing himself through a horror movie at the theater with Eddie (because Eddie loves them), he's driving them back. But there's long lines of traffic that make his car feel claustrophobic and his chest heavy. The radio is only a tad louder than normal, playing some Metallica tape—one that he enthused about because Eddie made him believe it was good, and it is, it is it is it is—

But it's all too much.

Cut to him weaving dangerously through traffic, wholly unlike him, heart racing so hard he thinks he can feel his blood traveling through his arteries, his veins. The car is swerving and his foot is on the pedal, no real destination in mind other than out and away. He's cutting in and out of his own body, trying to just slither away from the way his skin is riddled with goosebumps and trying to shed in huge flakes around him. He's tired and he's drawn and he's trying, damnit he's trying to hold himself together.

He pulls to the side of the road, into some half-full parking lot, away from other customers. And slams on the brakes so hard that Eddie flings forward a little in the passenger seat, almost collides with the dashboard. But Steve is so out of it he doesn't even realize, doesn't even recognize the recklessness he just put his boyfriend through. And when he can calm his breaths a bit, not very much but just enough, he finally looks to Eddie.

Eddie, who's looking at him a little like Steve's some wild animal, but so overcome with concern, it draws his features tight. "Steve?" Eddie calls out softly, too soft in comparison to himself, "you okay, baby?"

And Steve just bursts into tears, unwinding. His hands are shaking and he feels the innate urge to hurt to make the roaring inside him dwindle. And he does the only thing he knows how—emotions irregular and having been punished for it before—he cranes his neck in a nearly unnatural way, head digging into his headrest, eyes away from Eddie because he can't stomach the thought of Eddie seeing him this way, and he just bruises his own thighs with his tightly wound fists.

Eddie just does his best. He reaches over and turns the ignition off. Silences the whole car. Winds his window up, worms around to do the same to Steve's. And then he gently, still unknowing of what to do, slides his palms underneath Steve's fists. So that the next time they come down, they hit Eddie's hands instead. His face flinches minutely and his eyes begin to sting. It hurts, of course it fucking does, but he braves through it. Until Steve tires himself out, fists getting sloppy and his tears have dried. And Eddie doesn't let Steve see what he'd actually been hitting—he just curls his hands around Steve's fists, thumbs tracing over his knuckles.

"It's loud," Steve chokes out, "hate that movie."

"Okay," Eddie murmurs, taking this in stride, unquestioning. Because...well, he knows what it's like to feel singled out, unnatural about one's self. He won't make Steve feel like that, too. Won't even question what just happened. A conversation for a different time.

"Overwhelmed."

"Okay, that's okay."

Steve's fingers tighten for a moment before his hands uncurl. Gently, shakily, they take Eddie's own. His eyes are still on the ceiling of his car. Sniffles. "Freak?" he questions aloud.

"Never," Eddie swears, "that's my title and you come nowhere near it. Don't even think of touching it." He brushes his thumbs on the back of Steve's twitching hands, working their way through the aftershocks. "Let me take us home, okay?"

A moment passes. Then two. Then three.

Steve's breath shutters. He exhales easily, though. "Your bed," he says, "that's home."

And Eddie brings Steve's hands to his mouth, leaves small pecks on the backs of them. "We'll go there, baby. In your time, Steve. We'll go in your time."

"Okay."

Eddie nods, even when he isn't seen. Because Steve will know. They'll always know each other. "Okay."

———

I know I half-wrote this, but I will return to this eventually. I want to fully expand upon this idea. Just give me a minute because there's like three other fic ideas I want to do that I've posted about. My brain is endless steddie and I am soup.

[its-avalon-08]

Amoreeee!

i love ur works and i have a very specific reuqest in mind. this is too detailed so please feel free to ditch a few details because im aware its too much. this is a mv1 x senna!daughter one.

max is hard racing some driver and he gets angry and flustered and he crashes because he act irresponsibly. y/n's heart stops because the way the car rotated and hit the barrier refletced her late father's passing.

her breath stops, max is ok but gp IS ANGRY at him because that could have been easily avoided. max is not hurt at all.

he is still angry when he comes back into the motor home. and then y/n gives him a cold shoulder and doesnt speak to him.

this makes max angrier leading to a passive aggressive arguement. max says something which leads y/n to say "fine then, fuck off and die see if i care" max is shcoked and so is everyonbe else in the motorhome

when she rushes out in tears she bumps into carlos/charles/lando and he comforts her and she says "i never shouldve said that"

they make up, hapoy ending make it extra emotional.

LOVE UR WORKS!

i have to confess, i love this one the most out of everything i've ever written. its extra extra long, and the anon messaged me and asked me to add a few more things, so i have done the same! anon ily ! (edit - i messed up the translation! its been fixed now!!) enjoy reading <3

coração valente (mv1) (brave heart)

find the headcannon here!

The roar of the engine was a dull thrum in Y/N's ears as she watched the battle unfold on the screen. Max was locked in a fierce fight for position with Esteban Ocon. Every aggressive lunge, every desperate attempt to overtake sent a tremor of unease through her. It was too reminiscent, too close to the edge.

Then, disaster struck. Ocon made a late move, and Max, fueled by frustration and a competitive fire, reacted impulsively. He swerved to block him, the car losing traction as it took the corner too tightly. The world slowed down as Y/N watched in horror. The Red Bull spun, a sickening ballet of red and blue against the asphalt, before slamming into the barrier with a sickening crunch.

Her breath hitched, a choked sob escaping her lips. The way the car crumpled, the dust cloud mirroring the crash that stole her father… the memory flooded back, vivid and terrifying. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drum solo threatening to burst through her chest.

Thankfully, the medical team rushed to the scene, and the relief was almost a physical blow. Max emerged from the wreckage, shaken but unharmed. But the reprimand from Horner was swift and brutal. "Unnecessary risk, Verstappen! You could have avoided that entirely!"

By the time Max stormed back into the motorhome, his anger was a palpable presence. He tossed his helmet onto the couch, the thud echoing in the tense silence. Y/N sat by the window, her back to him, a cold, hard wall where warmth and concern usually resided.

"Great job out there," Max spat, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Another brilliant strategy by Horner, putting all the pressure on me."

Y/N remained silent. Her silence was a punishment, far worse than any raised voice. Max, already on edge, bristled.

"You gonna say something, genius?" he snapped. "Or are you just gonna sit there like a statue?" Y/N turned a deaf ear to that.

The air in the motorhome felt thick enough to chew on. Y/N sat at the table, meticulously organizing spare race parts, a pointed silence radiating from her. Max hovered by the coffee machine, his usual swagger dampened by a heavy frown.

Christian Horner, ever the mediator, attempted to lighten the mood. "So, Max," he boomed, "what are we learning from this little spin?"

Max, bristling at the reminder, mumbled a vague response about tire strategy. Y/N, without looking up, chimed in, "Perhaps a lesson in spatial awareness wouldn't go amiss."

The air crackled. Max whipped his head towards her, his jaw clenched. "Oh, and who's the expert on spatial awareness, Miss Never-Been-On-The-Track?"

Y/N slammed a wrench down a little too hard, the metallic clang echoing in the tense silence. "There's a difference between calculated risk and reckless driving," she retorted, her voice laced with ice.

Max scoffed. "Spoken like someone who's never felt the pressure of a championship on their shoulders."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "Pressure doesn't excuse stupidity, Max," she said, her voice clipped.

Horner cleared his throat, his booming voice a desperate attempt to break the ice. "Look, let's all take a moment to cool down. We can dissect the crash later. Right now, Max needs a clear head for the next race."

With that, Horner steered Max towards a debriefing session, leaving Y/N alone in the charged atmosphere. She picked up a stray bolt, turning it over in her hand, her knuckles white with repressed anger. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the workshop around her.

Just then, Charles walked in, his perceptive eyes catching the glint of tears on her cheeks. "Rough day?" he asked softly.

Y/N choked back a sob. "It's just… I don't know if I can watch him race anymore," she confessed, her voice thick with emotion.

Charles pulled up a chair beside her, his presence a silent comfort. "You know Max," he said gently. "He makes mistakes, but he learns from them."

Y/N shook her head. "This wasn't just a mistake, Charles. It was reckless. And it brought back…" she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Charles squeezed her shoulder in understanding. "The fear," he finished for her. "It's always there, isn't it?"

Y/N nodded, a tear escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. "I can't lose him too," she whispered, her voice cracking.

Charles offered a sad smile. "You won't," he assured her. "Max is stubborn, but he cares about you. He'll learn from this."

His words offered a glimmer of hope. Y/N knew Charles was right. But the fear, the raw terror that had gripped her during the crash, still lingered.

Max, a whirlwind of frustration earlier, had retreated into a sullen silence. Y/N, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, refused to acknowledge him directly. The tension crackled between them, a storm waiting to erupt.

Daniel Ricciardo, ever the peacemaker, tried to lighten the mood. "So, Max," he said, a touch too cheerfully, "what are we having for dinner? Surely Y/N has whipped up some magic in the kitchen?"

Y/N's lips twitched, but she remained focused on her phone, pretending not to hear. Max, still fuming, mumbled a curt, "I don't care."

The forced joviality died a quick death. Charles, sensing the undercurrents, offered, "Actually, I wouldn't mind ordering some takeout. How about some Indian?"

Y/N finally looked up, her voice clipped. "No, thank you, Charles. I'm not particularly hungry."

Max scoffed. "Suit yourself. More for the rest of us, then."

The passive-aggressive jabs continued throughout the evening, each veiled comment a fresh barb. Y/N praised Charles's recent qualifying performance, a clear dig at Max's reckless driving. Max, in turn, bragged about a new training program he was starting, a not-so-subtle jab at Y/N's perceived lack of understanding.

"Honestly that race was mine, Ocon fucked it up for everyone," Max proclaimed.

"Maybe," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "if you hadn't been so busy playing daredevil, you wouldn't have thrown away the race."

The words hung heavy in the air. Max felt a flicker of something cold and sharp twist in his gut. "Playing daredevil?" he scoffed. "I was out there fighting for the win!"

"At what cost?" Y/N's voice cracked, the dam of her emotions threatening to burst. "Do you even understand the fear you put me through?"

Max, for the first time, saw a glimpse of the terror that mirrored his own reckless driving. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words wouldn't come.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions. Then, in a moment of horrifying clarity, Max blurted out, "Look, if you can't handle the pressure, maybe you should just—"

The sentence died on his lips as he saw the blood drain from Y/N's face. She stared at him, her eyes filled with a hurt so profound it took his breath away.

"Fine then," she said, her voice a choked whisper. "fuck off and die. see if i care."

The words echoed in the stunned silence. Everyone in the motorhome froze, their eyes wide with shock. Even Max, fueled by anger, felt a cold dread settle in his stomach.

Y/N didn't wait for a response. Tears streaming down her face, she bolted out of the motorhome, the slam of the door a punctuation mark to the shattered silence.

Max stared after her, a tapestry of emotions swirling within him – anger, regret, a terror that mirrored her own. He lunged after her, but Charles, who had witnessed the exchange, caught him by the arm.

"Let her go," Charles said gently, his voice laced with concern. "She needs some space."

Max sank back onto the couch, his head in his hands. "What did I do?" he rasped, the anger replaced by a crushing weight of remorse.

The atmosphere was suffocating. Everyone, even the usually jovial mechanics, seemed to walk on eggshells around the warring couple. Tears streamed down Y/N's face as she walked, the weight of the fight, the fear, and the unspoken hurt threatening to overwhelm her. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

The cool night air did little to soothe the burning in Y/N's eyes. She wandered away from the motorhome complex, her legs numb and directionless. The roar of the track faded behind her, replaced by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves. Tears streamed down her face, carving clean tracks through the grime of the day.

Then, she saw it. Half-hidden behind a cluster of trees, a towering mural emerged from the darkness. It was a familiar image – her father, mid-corner, a determined glint in his eyes, the car a blur of yellow and green. A wave of emotions washed over her – grief, pride, and now, a searing anger.

Sinking down onto a nearby bench, Y/N found herself talking to the painted image. "Why didn't you tell me, Dad?" she choked out, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Why didn't you tell me how terrifying it would be to watch someone you love race?"

"Doesn't he understand, Dad? Doesn't he see the risk he takes? It's like he doesn't care! Doesn't care about the fear he puts me through, the terror that I relive every single time I see a car spin out of control!"

She slammed her fist against the concrete wall, a raw scream escaping her lips. The sound echoed in the quiet night, a testament to the storm raging within her. Tears streamed down her face, hot and angry.

"And then," she continued, her voice trembling, "he has the audacity to get mad at me? To act like I'm the one overreacting? Doesn't he see what his actions do? Doesn't he see what he almost took away from me today?"

Silence, except for the rustle of leaves in the night breeze. But in her mind, she could almost hear his voice, warm and reassuring. "coração valente (brave heart)," it seemed to say, the nickname he always used for her. "Fear is a part of it, but it doesn't have to control you."

Y/N wiped her eyes, a flicker of understanding replacing the anger. Her father hadn't raced because it was easy. He raced because of the passion, the thrill, the dance with danger. He wouldn't have wanted her to live in fear, but to find her own strength, her own way to navigate the world he left behind.

The sting in his eyes wasn't just from the acrid smoke billowing from a nearby barbecue. Max's chest ached with a dull ache that had nothing to do with the crash. Y/N's words, "fine then, fuck off and die. See if I care," echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his monumental screw-up.

He couldn't just sit there, stewing in his self-pity. He needed to find her, needed to apologize and explain the terrifying realization that had dawned on him during their tense silence.

Following a hunch, he made his way to the secluded corner where the mural of Ayrton Senna stood. In the dim glow of a single overhead light, he saw Y/N curled up with her back against the wall, her shoulders trembling with silent sobs. A red mark marred her hand where it had connected with the concrete.

His heart lurched. He knelt down beside her, his voice barely a whisper. "Y/N?"

She flinched at the sound, whipping her tear-streaked face towards him. Her eyes, red and puffy, held a storm of emotions – hurt, anger, and something akin to pleading.

Max swallowed the lump in his throat. "I… I shouldn't have said what I said," he began, his voice thick with remorse. "My anger… it clouded everything. I didn't…" He broke off, his own voice cracking.

Tears spilled down Y/N's cheeks. "And I..." she started, her voice trembling. "I never should have said what I did. It was awful, unforgivable of me." Her voice choked on a sob. "I don't… I don't want to lose you, Max. Not like that."

With a choked cry, she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Max held her tight, the dam breaking inside him. He pressed kisses to her hair, each one a silent apology, a promise.

"I get it now, Y/N," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I understand the fear. I see it reflected in your eyes every time I step onto the track. And I promise, I'll never do anything like that again. Not if it means putting you through that kind of pain."

They clung to each other, a tangle of limbs and broken sobs. The night air vibrated with the raw emotions they were finally releasing. Slowly, the sobs subsided into sniffles, leaving behind a fragile calm.

Max pulled back, wiping away a stray tear from Y/N's cheek with his thumb. "Let's go back," he said gently, his voice hoarse. "We can talk properly, sort things out."

Y/N nodded, her eyes searching his. "Together," she added, a shaky smile playing on her lips.

Max grinned back, the familiar spark of mischief returning to his eyes. "Always," he promised. "Together, no matter what the track throws at us."

As they walked back hand-in-hand, the mural of Ayrton Senna seemed to watch over them, a silent guardian of their love, a love forged in fire, tested by fear, and ultimately strengthened by understanding and forgiveness. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with each other, they knew they could face anything.

[shawnxstyles]

don’t keep driving

DATE: FEBRUARY 4, 2023

summary: when your morning starts off on the wrong foot, a certain celebrity cuts you off and makes it even worse. this causes you and harry to bicker before he gets on stage, leaving things unsaid. being his security, you were forced to work around him. while he’s performing, harry makes sure to leave you flustered enough to come into his dressing room at the end of the night.

request: yesss

words: 6.6k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [choking, slight orgasm denial], degrading, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, protected sex (consent is not directly implied here, always ask for consent!), dirty talk), language, and loads of dialogue (especially at the end)

note: the timeline here is completely different from his actual tour. i did describe the la night 8 outfit and a few real incidents that occurred from other shows lmao, but everything else is obviously fictional. enjoy!! harry masterlist

famous!harry x security!reader

—

You weren’t the type of person that gets irritated easily. Patience was your forte throughout your whole life, meaning you were rarely impatient to the point of madness.

However, unlike most of your life, you were a little more ticked off today than usual.

It started when your alarm didn’t wake you up this morning. You were so tired from the previous night, you passed out on the sofa in your living room. Your phone was left in your purse and therefore, making you frantically get ready this morning before heading to work.

Then you stopped to get some coffee because last night’s shift was a drag. You didn’t want to feel like crawling out of your skin again. You sipped your drink in the car, on your way to work. You nearly spit it across your windshield when you tasted the bitterness. Looking at the labeling, they completely botched your order with a black coffee. Was a vanilla latte that hard?

Setting the burnt-tasting liquid in a cup holder, you focus on driving. You try to keep your calm, hands gripping the wheel harshly. Traffic was packing up, making you later and later for work. Your head throbbed in stress as you sharply inhaled with a scowl on your face. You pressed the radio on to fill the road raged air. The very much overplayed “As It Was” plays throughout your speakers, making you roll your eyes. Once you exited the freeway, all you had to do was get through a few lights. Just a few stoplights and you would be at work.

Just breathe.

A flashy, red sports car speeds past you, swaying in its lane carelessly. It swerves in front of you, cutting you off entirely. You huff, slamming down on your breaks and honking your horn. You thank heavens that no one is behind you as you switch lanes aggressively and smash the gas pedal to accelerate to his speed. You catch up to the vehicle and glare at the figure. You almost couldn’t believe it.

Ironically, Harry Styles is driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his phone. He grins at the small screen, eyes flicking up and down from the road. You both arrive at a red stop light, breaking ferociously over the white line. The sight of his casualness angers you as you beep again. His head is alerted left toward your car. With knitted eyebrows and a death stare, you flip him off.

As he sits frozen and shocked, you accelerate through the now green light, leaving him in the dust. For some reason, a hint of a smile curls on your lips as you roll into the private parking lot. You show your ID card and pull into the security area. In your rear view mirror, Harry follows closely behind you, parking in a different section.

You smirk to yourself, knowing you gladly flipped off none one other than the Harry Styles.

—

You slip through the crowded hallways, anxious from the high-pitched screaming coming from the stadium. The closer it gets to showtime, the more anticipation fills up to the room and leaves everyone on high-alert.

It’s just like any other night.

You worked security at the Kia Forum. Ear piercing screams, blinding lights, and chaotic energy surrounded you almost every night. You knew some people would kill for a job that monitors and guards their favorite bands, and you were immensely grateful, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get stressed out and exhausted by the end of the week.

To add, you worked at the Kia Forum, not for the artist. Meaning, you were not directly affiliated with the band or artist performing there. Many people got confused and begged you for an autograph, but it was rare you talked one on one with the musicians for longer than a minute. Working at the forum helped you to not get attached to certain artists because you got to see a variety of artists every day, so you were never obsessing over one. Again, people would kill for your job.

But out of all the people you’ve worked security for, Harry Styles had to be the… most contradicting and unexpected. At least to you.

You’ve seen hundreds of videos of him online and he seemed like the perfect man with the perfect face. He was kind, charming, and had an old-man sense of humor. His figure was exceptional, making teenage girls fawn over him until they faint (you’ve witnessed it). He’s performed at the forum too many times to count (14 times if you were counting though) and each time he acts the same. Funny. Charming. Delightful. Engaging. Sexy. Emotional. Blah blah blah.

Fans don’t see the side of him that you see. Sometimes, you don’t even think his crew or friends see it. He was one of the only artists that you’ve talked to for more than a minute. And every minute you spent practically spitting at each other, you felt your time being wasted. Truly, Harry was cocky, vain, and couldn’t care less about your feelings. The only appropriate way to act was to deflect his own attitude back at him. You weren’t going to put him on a pedestal just because he was a celebrity; he was a person just like anyone else. You’ve only known him for a total of a few weeks; tonight would be his 15th time at the forum since you’ve worked here. However, the car incident today was your last nerve. Thankfully, this was his last night here before Love on Tour finally traveled out of the country.

Shaking your head, you wash away all of the pounding thoughts in your head. You rush around the back rooms in anticipation and anxiousness. Scurrying through the endless hallways, your foot snags in a random extension cord too quickly to balance yourself. Bracing for the fall, your arms extend out, only to be caught by the man whose name is plastered around the arena tonight. Tattooed arms lift you up to your feet as you try to balance yourself, chest pushing off of his chest. A smirk rises on his lips at your proximity as you roll your eyes until they touch the back of your skull.

“A thank you would be much appreciated,” Harry doesn’t remove his arms from beneath yours, keeping you closer than you’d like to be.

You swallow, green eyes piercing yours addictingly. You quickly glance at his outfit; a pastel pink T-shirt with a sequin teddy bear and blue leather pants. Harry Styles, the image, was adorable, sweet, and sexy— something you could’ve admitted at one point in your life. But since you’ve had your eyes opened by Harry, the real one, your blood boils every time he speaks, arrogance laced in his tongue. He was immature, and his childlike mannerisms crumpled any belief that ever found him endearing or sensible.

The only thing that may be sensitive was his ego, which made Mount Everest look small in comparison. Even though he did somehow manage to make a teddy bear shirt sexy, you would never in a million years tell him that.

“You were in my way,” You grumble, pushing yourself off of him. Your fingers felt the valley of his abs through his shirt as you brushed over them swiftly. Swallowing thickly, you stand in front of him with a locked jaw, acting like you didn’t just feel down his torso.

“If anythin’, y’were in my way—”

“Oh, sorry, did I ruin your makeup? Boo hoo. I didn’t ask for you to catch me!” You taunt and shout, eyes furrowed in irritation.

“Think I’d just let you fall?” His tone was surprisingly soft, and in some way, convincingly genuine, but you ignored it.

“Yes, I think that’s exactly what you’d do,” You click your tongue as your eyes bulge from their sockets. Harry’s nose flares while his lips are pursed tightly together.

“That doesn’t make me look good though, does it, darling?” Now, he tries to act soft, sweeping some of your hair to the side. You swat his ringed fingers away in disgust, infamously rolling your eyes. The trace of his fingers left a burning trail on your skin.

“And texting while driving does? Let’s all hail Harry for being such a great role model!” Your arms cross as your eyes roll dramatically for the hundredth time this minute. “For all I know, you were probably sexting some French model.”

Harry instantly remembers a few hours ago, when he was driving unsafely near the forum. He continuously stared at the adorable video on the screen instead of the road, accidentally cutting you off when he swerved into your lane. He cringes at the memory and your comment. As you spin away from him with annoyance sizzling off of you, he grips your elbow and swings you around to face him again. Your body twirls irritatingly too close to him as he holds you tightly by your elbows.

“S‘important,” It wasn’t really. It was just a heartwarmingly sweet video of his Goddaughter getting her nails officially done for the first time. He doesn’t know why he pulled you back toward him. He knows you didn’t like him and would rather breathe poisonous chemicals than the air surrounding him. But for some reason he needed you to know that he wasn’t texting some French model.

How did he mess up that bad?

“Sexting is more important than your life?” Your eyebrows lift as your eyes hang wearily at his dumb statement.

“Since when do y’care about my life?”

“I don’t. I care about other people’s lives. Which you endangered with your reckless driving!” Your shouts echo throughout the halls as the screams from the stands get more noisy and impatient for Harry’s arrival. “You have such a God-complex. Thinking you’re always right,” You grumble with a head shake.

“But if m’not right then that makes y’right, huh? So who really has the ‘God-complex’?” A smirk crawls up his face, arrogance inflating his ego. You huff under your breath, eyes squinting tiny daggers into his soul. Your skin boils with angered heat, fists bawling to contain it.

“Two minutes, Harry! Need you under the stage now!” A crew member jogs and calls for him across the way. Harry sincerely smiles in affirmation as the member slips back underneath the stage.

“Why do you act like you’re so high and mighty all the time? Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you get to break the law!” You practically spit in his face.

“I break more things than you’d like to know,” He licks his lips with his unexpected innuendo, causing your heart to randomly speed up. His cocky attitude triggered you more than you would like to admit.

“That’s it! Your ego. Somebody needs to humble you.”

“I would say I’m quite humble. You are not.”

“Maybe that big ego is to make up for something,” You fire at him before he could continue to say a snarky comment back. You fold your arms as his face freezes and his words stop. He clicks his tongue as a psychotic laugh suddenly tumbles from his throat. You furrow your eyebrows at him concerningly.

“You are so fuckin’ in for it,” His voice is deep near your ear as he slips past you, jogging away. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until you walked out into the arena, bursting with lively energy and high-levels of anticipation. As best as you could, you shake off the sound of Harry’s voice; demanding, alluring, and almost… lustful.

You approach one of your co-workers, who is also one of your best friends, and greet her with a fist bump. The barrier was surrounded by guards to begin with, so your presence probably wasn’t needed, but the cash was good for a night shift. And plus, the shows were extremely fun, even if they were for Harry Styles.

—

You might not care for Harry, but his fans were something else. Laughter bubbles up in your throat from reading their ridiculous and out-of-pocket posters.

The jumbo-tron pans to a large white poster that says ‘DADDY?’, causing Harry to shift his attention that way. He stares at the sign, holding back a devilish smirk that you knew all too well.

“Yes?” He says, smile breaking as his laughter echoes in the microphone. Everyone screams so ridiculously loud, you swear there wasn’t a single person silent. “All I can say is, yes?”

The fans continue to scream at his taunting and devilish behavior. Your mouth falls open and you gasp, wondering if it’s true or if he’s just doing it for the fans. You imagine using the name in bed, and heat rushes up to your face when you imagine Harry with you. If he was anything like he was on stage, he was probably into edging and choking as well. He constantly “edged” the audience and pretended to choke himself during one of his songs. Your eyes blur as your body begins to sweat from the lewd idea; Harry’s hand around your neck while he fucks you so deep your eyes are rolling back for a new reason other than his cockiness. You curse at yourself and rapidly shake your head because Harry was the last person you should be having dirty thoughts of.

As the night goes on, Harry eventually transitions into “Keep Driving”, which he has been waiting for all night. Ever since you and Harry’s conversation in the hallway, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. He hasn’t forgotten the way your hand traced his abdomen and how warm your face felt under his fingertips. He especially didn’t forget your little comment. He peers at the back of your head as the intro starts, his hands resting tightly around the microphone. He starts singing, excitedly waiting for the bridge.

You actually really liked his music, and it frustrated you sometimes that he was so annoying because it made it hard to appreciate. However, as a new song begins you face your attention to the popstar smoothly singing the words.

“Passports and footwells, kiss her and don’t tells,” Harry sings, eyes gliding toward yours as he winks. A group of girls screams happily behind you, but you had a strange feeling it wasn’t for them. Your heart jumps as you watch his eyes drift away to other parts of the audience. You continue to watch him with squinted eyes and a chewed lip, trying to decipher why he just did that.

The entire crowd sings along to the absurd and random bridge, everyone putting their full heart into it. It was endearing to see so many people coming together to appreciate a common interest. A reason you loved this job was because you loved music, and every day it reminded you of how many people loved it just as much.

“Cocaine, side boob, choke her with a sea view,” Harry motions his hand towards his throat, pretending to choke himself. You notice how he pinches the sides without gripping all the way, wondering if he did that on purpose or not. When it comes to choking (as a sexual act), it is important to not fully wrap a hand around their neck, so they don’t… well, pass out or die. If he knew that, that must mean he’s into it…

His green eyes locked on yours for every word of that line, his mouth wide as he husked out the lyrics. You swallow, heart racing as familiar heat creeps up your neck. Before you could look away, he removes his hand from his own neck and points directly at you. Your eyes widen as you forget to breathe, coughing on your flusteredness.

What. The. Fuck?

With uneven and strangled breaths, you tell one of your co-workers that you feel unwell and need to use the restroom. He nods understandably and you jog to the nearest bathroom.

As Harry continues to perform, he notices you vanished. He wasn’t sure when, but your figure was no longer stuck standstill to the left of the stage after he finished Matilda and Little Freak. Something in him pangs with pain, but he assumes it’s from the depressing songs he just sang. He doesn’t have enough time to ponder and find the real answer because the delicate Satellite intro begins to play throughout the arena. He begins to sing just like he has all night, but he can’t keep his eyes from wandering to that empty gap between all the workers.

—

The iconic and chaotic screams of tonight become only a memory as the show ends. Thousands of stylish people begin to leave the arena safely with the help of security like yourself. However, you left the room right when the show ended because you were too unwell to say the least.

When you came back from the bathroom after Harry’s little choking charade, you came back to him dancing and singing as if nothing happened. As the night continued on, his enchanting eyes would hook onto yours for a second too long. Every time he strategically moved, hand sliding seductively down his torso or hips swaying sexily, his eyes would burn holes in your skin.

Saying you were flushed and flustered during the concert was an understatement; you felt like you were bathing in a sauna on a summer day. The anger that bubbled under your heated skin didn’t help in cooling you down; it only made you more furious that his little antics affected you so easily. You tried to deny the fact that he was looking directly at you by rolling your eyes, but when he did it more than occasionally with that infamous smirk on his face, it confirmed the theory.

You pushed through the authorized doors, sweating under your uniform. You were determined to find him and talk to him. In some twisted way, you felt like he had some power over you now. Like he had won this stupid little war you had. You knew he knew what he was doing, and you were sure he had an idea of how it made you feel. You didn’t like that.

When your blazing eyes discover his dressing room door, you pound your clenching fist against it. You don’t wait for him to answer before opening the door impatiently yourself.

“Harry—” Your words get caught in your throat as you eye the half naked man in front of you. Harry stands shirtless across the small room, sweat glistening on his tattooed skin as a towel rests upon his shoulder. He casually turns around, an unamused expression on his face. You gulp, pushing all your feelings down. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” Harry asks innocently as he dabs the towel over his sheer skin. You try not to avert your eyes from his face, but he’s making it incredibly difficult to not look at his toned abs and arms.

“The hand! On the neck!” You whisper-shout at him as he nonchalantly strides closer to you and lays the towel on the couch. You remain angry as he stands in front of you with a guiltless look on his face.

“I beg your pardon?” He politely states with huge eyes, causing you to growl and nearly punch him in the mouth. Maybe if you did it hard enough, he would never talk again. You heavily considered it.

“Th-the choking thing!” You stumble over your words out of frustration. His body radiated heat that you were close enough to feel, heart pounding unwillingly in your chest from the sudden proximity.

“Ohh, you mean this?” Harry delicately rests his ringed hand over your neck, any word you even thought about saying got caught in your throat.

His fingertips press lightly against the pulses on your neck, metal digging into your skin delightfully. You attempt to swallow your saliva as your heart beats crazily. After a few seconds, your vision gets slightly dizzy and your heart stammers faster and faster. He releases the pressure, hand remaining lightly around your throat. You take heavy breaths, looking up at him as flames light up in your irises.

“Har—”

“Ah ah, no talking yet. I think you’ve done enough of that,” He demands deeply with a threatening press to your pulse. You obey with a heavy puff as he releases, not having much of a choice. Being right next to the door, his opposite hand twists the tiny lock, trapping you inside.

“Do you remember what you said before I went on?” As your mind flashes through the memories of tonight, you’re reminded of a handful of things you said to him. But you didn’t know which one he was referring to, so you shake your head. “My ego. You said it was so big it must make up for something. What did you mean by that?”

Your eyes widen as heat crawls up your skin quickly. Harry can feel you gulp against his hand as you remember the underlying reason behind the insult.

Harry knew what you meant, he just wanted to hear you say it. Your little bursts of anger gave him enjoyment and relief, especially after 15 shows working together. The acid that spat from your mouth always ignited a fire inside of him that he’s never felt from anyone else. He never understood it, but when he was on stage and saw how flustered you were, it finally clicked. Your little comment earlier gave him an opportunity.

“Your dick is small,” You grumble, looking down at the carpeted floor.

“What was that?”

“Your dick. Is. Small.” You emphasize every repeated word with an irritating puff. Like earlier, a psychotic chuckle elicits from his mouth, scaring you from his unknown thoughts.

“I don’t like your big, bratty attitude.”

“It’s nowhere near as big as your ego.”

With your words and his rippled laughter, the last thing you expected him to do was kiss you. It was sloppy and hungry as he ripped apart your jacket until the zipper broke. You gasp as it falls to the floor around you, allowing him to slip his tongue dangerously into your agape mouth. His lips move in rhythm against yours, teeth clanging with desperation. Your hands intertwine with his damp curls and you tug them viciously. A groan elicits from his throat as his hand tightens around your neck. He pulls away, both of you heaving from the intensity and heat.

“What the–”

“No talking. Got it, brat?” His grasp is strong against you, rings pinching your skin tastefully. Your cunt aches underneath the tight fabric of your uniform, frustratingly horny from his appeal. His muscles bulk as he chaotically unbuttons your pants, yanking them down thighs.

You hastingly flip off your shoes, cursing at yourself for giving into him. His rough palms on your skin set you on fire; shots of electricity soaring straight to your clit. The blinding pinches of his fingers around your throat create a pool of arousal in your panties, and it disgusts you how turned on you are from him.

“How wet are you right now?”

“Drier than a desert,” You lie through gritted teeth as he pushes you harsher against the wall.

“I’ll see about that.”

Following his own word, his free hand slips past your underwear and cups your pussy. A strangled noise leaves you at the feeling of his bare hand touching you so vulnerably. He has you at his mercy, for once not being able to fight back. Instinctively, you grind once over his rugged palm needily and he growls at your heavy arousal.

“Fuckin’ brat,” He spits, rubbing against your heat ferociously. For the first time tonight, you moan unwilling at his movements, hands grasping securely on his shoulder blades.

With a smug smirk, Harry continues to itch your clit, giving you a blissful friction that has your eyes rolling. Your stomach tenses as you bite your lip forcefully, containing all of your noises. You almost forget about his hand on your neck until he presses along your pulses. Stars begin to gloss over your vision as heated lust fogs up your mind. You feel your body float into the sky until you're seeing the clouds of pure ecstasy surround you.

As the burning blood runs through your veins again, you take a deep breath that causes you to moan out loudly. You slap a hand over your own mouth at your foolishness, knowing that anyone could hear you and know exactly what was going on.

You see, Harry is famous. He can get away with a lot of things like sleeping with a fan or maybe even texting and driving. But you, an average security worker, could not. If someone knew what you were doing right now, you’d be fired on the spot.

However, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as Harry slots a slender finger inside of you. You whimper at how easily he slipped it in. You were so fucking turned on, you could fix the drought. He simply curls his digit as you clutch around him, causing him to hiss.

Harry removes his hand from your panties, causing your eyes to shoot open and glare at him angrily. He brings your wetness up to his mouth and widens, sucking away all of your juices from his fingertips. Your chest heaves at the sight, exasperated and outraged that he’s having so much fun with this.

“For someone so hostile, you taste very sweet,” His taunts, making you growl. You try to push him off of you because you were sick of him. Sick of his games and sick of his ego. Way too sick of his ego. You didn’t have time for this. But he holds you secure by locking you to the wall with his hand. “Nuh uh, we’re not done just yet. We haven’t even gotten to the fun part. You know, where I show you you’re wrong.”

With a skillful hand, he unzips his trousers and tears your panties off your body. You gasp, shocked at how impulsive he’s being. He pushes his briefs down until they’re around his ankles. His cock springs free, large and leaking. His tip is pink followed by several veins running along the sides. You can see its neglect, aching and desperate– you can feel the pain. But your heart stammers wildly in your chest when you really comprehend his size. He was thick and bulky, but also long and lengthy. It almost looked fake because it was so surreal. People would pay big money for that, and having an idea of his income, maybe he had.

“Did you pay for that? Because there is no way,” You whisper breathily in the heated silence. He magically slips on a miraculous condom that he must have gotten while you were daydreaming in a haze. Of course, he just has condoms with him. He chuckles hoarsely and shortly as he leans closer toward your ear.

“All natural, baby,” He rasps from the aftermath of singing all night. His breath is soft and electrifying on your skin, causing your cunt to throb with undeniable desire.

His thumb rests on your pulsating clit, petting it delicately, unlike the roughness of his hand on your throat. Your thighs clench, sensitive because he’s being such a tease. He runs his fingertips over your wetness as more begins to leak out of you, his cold, metal rings grazing the skin of your inner thighs.

“What is taking you so long? Scared your fake dick is going to fall off?” You strangle out your snarky words from behind his choking grasp. He clenches his teeth in annoyance as he grips your supple thigh and hooks it around his hip.

“I was going to ask if you were ready, but since you want to be so impatient, I don’t really give a fuck anymore,” And with that, he thrusts inside of you completely.

Harry tucks himself deep in you, giving you no mercy with his vicious movements. Your nosy moan echoes throughout the tiny dressing room, but you didn’t have enough self-awareness to stop it. His thick cock stretches out your walls so deliciously, your pussy constricts snuggly around him. He groans at your tightness, wet and warm all around him. He plunges brisker into you, addicted to the feeling of your velvety cunt wrapping him.

Your legs tremble with his powerful propels. If he wasn’t pinning you with his cock wrathfully into the wall, you’re sure your legs would give out from underneath you. You squeeze your leg hooked on his hip, bringing him closer and deeper inside of you. You both share a collective groan at the new feeling, touching a place that sends you both into overwhelming bliss.

“Still small?” He husks smugly as his hand caresses the nape of your neck, controlling your pulses. Harry moans when you grind your hips into his, rubbing against his shaft mesmerizingly.

“I’m,” You try to contain your moan in order to drain his satisfaction, “unimpressed.”

“Really? How about I go deeper?” Like before, he lifts up your other leg, latching your body completely to his. You gasp as you leave the ground, hands digging into his shoulders brutally. He shoves you against the wall, fingers restricting your airflow as he slams into harsher than before.

Harry rams inside of you at a new angle, intensifying the pleasure to an even higher level than before. His thrusts are brutally quick, as if he was trying to win a race. Losing your grip, one of your hands falls down his crafted torso, tracing his toned and tattooed skin. Your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy as you lose reality. You feel your spirit leave your body; you swear you were dangling above yourself. With your lack of oxygen, the world slowly slips away from you in a lustful haze. If you died now, you would be beyond pissed because you were with Harry, but at least you had the best sex of your whole life.

But you would never, in a million years, tell Harry that.

His coarse hand drags down your abdomen, leaving a blaze in its trail. His rugged thumb circles hastingly over your bud, causing flashes of your orgasm to appear in view at the sensation. As your head begins to drop forward, Harry releases the blinding pressure from your neck and slams his hand on the wall to balance on. You desperately inhale, craving the oxygen to bring you back to the present.

When your stomach tightens and you squeeze around his length, it alerts you both that you were on the brink of your orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure from his cock doesn’t miss to prevail over you as he jabs your cunt with no sympathy. Your nails scratch along his butterfly tattoo that sits beautifully in between you both, almost too innocent to be involved in such a sinful act. The head of his shaft repeatedly hits your g-spot, eliciting loud cries from your mouth. He doesn’t try to quiet you.

“Tell me, Y/N. Tell me who’s making you feel this good,” Harry demands as he rocks and flicks his hips skillfully. You were too desperate and way too close to reply with a sassy remark. However, your mind flashes over the memory of tonight when Harry read that sign. That sign. You knew if you didn’t listen to him he would take it away from you.

You hated how he had so much control over you. But your body thought otherwise.

“You! You’re making me feel so good, Daddy,” Breathless moans and mewls tumble from your mouth as your climax shakes your whole body. “So deep.”

He growls heavily against your ear, your body vibrating from the effect. A devilish smirk haunts your lips at how affected he is by the simple name, and in some way, you felt like you had a centimeter of his control.

“Daddy, huh? God, you’re such a slut,” He grunts, squeezing the back of your neck as he twitches inside of you. “Am I still small? Hm?”

“N-no, you’re big, Daddy. So deep inside of me. Fuck, I’m gonna come,” You whine embarrassingly as your head shakes against the wall.

“Come, Y/N. Come all over my big cock,” He husks in your ear as you continue to thrash on the wall. To silence you, Harry catches your lips with his. Your pussy tightens around his length as your orgasm waves over you. Your body and mind submerges into a blissful fog as your climax surrounds him. His thrusts become languid and messy as he feels your cum soak his cock. Your tongue slips graciously along his pink lips, helping him finish. If you weren’t in an orgasmic haze, you would have walked out and left him edged.

With a string of profanities against your lips, his length spasms against your walls. His cum shoots into the condom, and within a few moments, his movements still.

Heavy breathing, hearts racing, muscles trembling, and sweat glistening, you two stand with your bodies pressed together. You swallow at the awkward aftermath because you didn’t think this far. You never even thought this was a possibility in any universe.

You just had sex with Harry. Oh shit.

He watches as you come to the realization. You quickly push him off of you and pull up your pants. You wince when you notice that you have no underwear because Harry tore them to shreds. Slipping on your shoes, Harry saunters over to his vanity and wraps a towel around his waist.

“Don’t act so terrified, Y/N,” His familiar cocky and nonchalant character was back like normal, and in all honesty, it gave you some type of comfort. His attitude gave you an excuse to be irritated and allowed you to shift away from the awkwardness that remained wrapped around your throat. Even if he was across the room from you now, you could still feel the tight grasp of his ringed fingers pinching your neck. You had a feeling that everything he did would now somehow remind you of sex with him.

“How are you so okay right now? Do you just do this with everyone?”

“What do you mean?”

“So you just bring people back here after every show and have sex with them?”

“Bloody hell, Y/N. No, I don’t do that,” He practically winces from your accusation, and you subconsciously relax your muscles at his denial. “Never done that actually.”

“So then what was this?”

“Technically, you came in here,” He pins you with a knowing look and you roll your eyes with a huff.

“Just so you know, no one can know about this, okay? And I know you probably couldn’t give less of a shit, but I could be fired,” Your jaw ticks as your eyes wander around the room, refusing to look at him directly.

“I won’t tell anyone. Promise,” Although he is a cocky and sarcastic jerk, you can’t help but realize that his tone is one hundred percent genuine. With a simple nod, you take his word for it and start to exit the room.

“By the way, you owe me new underwear.”

“Anything you like in particular?” With your hand on the knob, you think for a moment.

“I want one of everything. I know it won’t even put a dent in your pocket, but I like to think that I did,” As his chuckle fills your ears, it becomes more and more distant as you exit the small room. Security and crew buzz around the hallways, shocking you frozen immediately. You’re praying that nobody saw you walk out of Harry’s room, let alone heard you five minutes ago.

“Y/N! There you are. Did you know that the crew had a prank war under the stage? It was so funny, God, you just had to be there. And I was laughing my ass off when Harry’s bus left without Harry,” Your co-worker pats your shoulder as she laughs. In any normal circumstance, you would join in on her hysterics, but a small gasp leaves your mouth as your hand covers your lips.

“They left?”

“Yeah. They always leave in a rush I guess,” She replies to your question and then rambles on about the pranks from the crew. Your head turns back to peer at Harry’s dressing room door. You notice that the little paper with his name has been removed from the slot.

Everything was too chaotic for anyone to know where he was.

Now, that’s hilarious.

You subtly giggle as you and your friend trail down the hallway. In the back of your mind, you imagine Harry sitting all alone in the room. He probably had a valet take his car, so now he had nothing. You assumed most of his belongings were on the bus, and maybe that even meant his phone. Impulsively, you tell your friend you have to go to the bathroom and turn around. You head back to his dressing room and enter without knocking this time. Unlike before, he’s fully dressed with an annoyed look on his face. You tuck your lips inside of your mouth, trying to contain your giggles at his irritation of the situation.

“You know they left? Without me? How do they even do that?!” You can’t hold it back anymore as your laughter ripples from you. You cover the noise with your hands, but it’s no use.

“They probably realized they don’t really like you anymore.”

“Oh, ha ha. So funny, Y/N,” Harry says facetiously and rolls his eyes as he stuffs everything in his small carry-on bag. “I feel like this is the moment where you offer me a ride.”

“Mm only if I get something out of it.”

“Anything you want I can probably get it, let’s just go,” He ushers you both out of the door and when you walk into the hallway this time, it’s empty. You don’t hear a peep as you trudge through the carpeted walkways all the way outside to the secure parking lot. You get to your car and you both slip inside when you unlock it.

“You know, I expected better from you.”

“I will leave you here,” You glare at him from across the console.

“I can get you a car. Do you want the one I was driving earlier? The red reminds me of how ferocious you are all the time.”

“You mean the one that you nearly killed me with? No thanks,” You shove the key into the ignition and reverse out of the deserted area. “You know, you never told me what you were actually doing on your phone anyway.”

“Oh, I was looking at a video of my Goddaughter. She was getting her nails painted,” He smiles softly, recalling the short clip of her pure happiness.

“Sounds adorable, but that was still wrong,” He groans and slams his head against the heat rest. You smile smugly in satisfaction as you speed through the empty roads of LA, completely contradicting your opinion.

His bus leaving was like perfect karma that was made to humble him. Maybe Harry wasn’t the worst person ever. As long as you had the wheel.

—

tags: @crybabyddl @raajali3

[taemcains]

your love is sunlight — cainlane

lane helps cain wash the blood off his wings and gets a thank you in return. ao3

cw: blood mentions

🎧 julia shortreed - broken wings

Pale golden light streams into Lane's shared room, falling on the soft carpet in a mosaic mirroring the elegant swirls on the balcony door. The picture of coziness it creates, along with the spread of reference books spilled like a domino of cards around her, brings her back to high school and days spent cramming for exams with the spring sunshine in North Carolina watching over her like a guardian.

The tremors of a door slamming shut on the ground floor dispel the mirage. Lane blinks hard, bringing herself back to Rotkov's eternal winter and her task, which is considerably more crucial and much more demanding than memorizing chemistry equations.

The Book and her notebook are each balanced precariously on her knees. Reference books lay further down from her, tossed away in rising frustration. Her wrist aches and her back has been steadily cramping from her abysmal posture, but she remains hunched over, picking up her trail of thought and leaving behind unnecessary memories to continue scrawling in her notebook.

Shadows pool on the floor, chasing away the imitation of home and warmth. Lane's head whips up to face the balcony, hair lashing against her back.

White obscures gold. It flashes once, painting the room cold before swerving to the back of the estate.

Real warmth bubbles up in her chest. Cain is back from his night patrol.

Lane spent all of ten minutes in the morning trying to inconspicuously grill the squad about his whereabouts before her mind grew disgusted by her pathetic state. Cain is an immortal. Whatever stalks the forest and whoever hides in the town should be, are, terrified of him. Worrying about someone who can handle himself, when she has a plethora of problems is fatuous. She resolved to put it out of her mind and surrender to the Book instead.

An hour later, huddled under every blanket and comforter looted from her room, the upholstered chair doing little to battle the cold, she muses. Why do you become so irrational when you… have someone? Her hand is unsteady, fingers trembling from the cold, but she makes a valiant effort to jot something down.

Anna shoots her the most judgmental glance she's received in her life. ‘Why are you freezing to death near the balcony when the bed is right there?’

Lane tries to shrug but she doubts the slight movement would be visible under ten layers of wool. ‘The cold will keep my mind awake. I could get a new perspective on the Book.’

Anna almost looks offended at how little thought Lane put into lying to her. She scoffs. ‘Is that what they're calling it now?’ She scowls at a distant spot in the sky, willing the extent of her disdainful glare to reach that angel wherever he is, before turning on her heel and leaving, muttering about ‘beautiful women falling for idiot men’ and ‘why do you never learn, Anna?’

Her mind doesn't linger too long on Anna, but circles him, as always, a whirlpool of memories and longings. She tried to choke down her worry along with mouthfuls of tea earlier, but it spews up with a redoubled vengeance. No matter how many times her exasperated mind reassures her of the angel's strength and safety, her heart refuses to quiet, pacing anxiously with a thump-thump-thump echoing through her very bones.

Are you satisfied? Everyone wants to know whether I even have a heart anymore but you keep it, toss it, and catch it with the dizzying speed of your changing whims. I don't miss that. But I miss you.

Admitting that she missed him was apparently the last straw for her mind, who was jeering at this display of yearning. Lane leapt to her feet, yanked around by the strings of her rational mind that was hard at work to erase this maudlin moment from her day. She climbed into bed, pulled the required materials to herself like a shield and lost herself in the arcane, her mind alight and awake, ready to beat her heart into submission.

Now she allows herself to exhale a shameful ‘I missed you’ to the knowing shadows of her room and let relief unfurl through her bloodstream like a ribbon.

All the romance novels and movies she'd gorged herself on in her teenage years with the relished humiliation of crawling back to an unfaithful lover, had painted love in pink, soft and bloodless. But for Lane, love is a violent intrusion, spinning her mind and heart out of control. If she'd known she would feel so foolish, she would've accumulated more experience, to chart cumulative data and predict the best response in any situation. But Cain's not like anyone she's ever met. He's not like anyone at all.

Plotting Cain would be an impossible task as he shifts a little every time she sees him, a kaleidoscope that never shows the same pattern twice. But won't he let her try? To map his impossibilities across a lifetime like counting stars in the night sky, the only futile task she wants to squander away her time on with the languidness of summer days slipping away.

Contrary to his own impossibility, he seems to have her entirely mapped out, tracing the rivers of her veins with his fingertips and the ridges of her spine with his eyes. She didn't have to ask. Cain understood her, like he once promised, and her working style which he condensed aptly as ‘You wouldn't look up from the Book unless there's a second apocalypse.’ So his wings blinked at her, sending her a sign.

Was he counting on her being able to glimpse the maelstrom of riddles behind every guileless movement of his? Delivered with a susurration of his wings, an order, a request, or the gentle luring of a lover: Come find me.

His wishes are clear, but Lane hesitates, out of her own warring desires. Her heart is almost halfway out the door, straining to settle sleepily against his voice, but her feet remain planted to the floor, roots extending through wood, bypassing time and space, sprouting out of her father's office.

Wood polish. Expensive leather. An angular man leaning over her seven-year-old self. ‘Please do not bother me when I'm working, Lane. Go see to your mother.’ Which was perhaps the greatest condemnation of all, her own father who could not see her mother's umbilical cord strangling her lovingly around her neck, a tie she could never rid of even two decades later.

The memory fractures. Warmth beckons her from the fissure and she follows as if ensorcelled. The press of a thigh to her own. The specter of fingers through her hair. The fracture widens. The tickling of feathers against the small of her back. Her father's office and her younger self preserved in contrition are swallowed into the dark.

The last fragments of the memory are brushed away by an ambrette voice that lifts her and carries her back to the body of her present self, gently setting her down in reality. Tendrils of him and his essence are already curled around her, sweetpea flowers budding around her neck, watching over her when he can't.

Glimpses of him in her memories don't appease her. Lately, even his fleeting touches, light enough to absolve him of intention, do nothing to sate the hunger roiling in her. Come find me.

Guided, or rather, misguided, by the reckless abandon that entangles with desire, Lane crosses the room and doesn't let herself hesitate to wrench the door open. Her eyes hone in on the ornate door at the far end of the hallway, quiet and anodyne.

The estate is still, the history of those hallowed halls, almost a physical presence draped heavy over her shoulders, watching as Lane's hushed footsteps ghost over the floor. She knows her efforts are in vain; he must've heard the click of her door opening, but it felt sacrilegious to stomp over in an estate teeming with revenants.

She comes to a standstill outside his door, heart awake and thrashing. He could probably hear it through the wood, no barrier fortified to the aching of her heart to be a plaything in his hands again. But he waits, lets her settle on going to him or turning away.

She knocks lightly.

‘Come in.’ His voice, smooth and even, with the barest drops of an emotion she couldn't identify, sends a trickle of reassurance down her chest.

Ominous that the creaking of the door is, when Lane peers inside, gingerly stepping past the threshold like an inexperienced thief, Cain is whole and unhurt, lips curving up as salve to her twinging unease. Her heart finally rests.

As relief streams through her blood, her eyes cascade down his figure intently. Silvery fabric molds to his skin, translucent where pearls of water trickle from the damp ends of his hair. Black slacks cling enticingly to his thighs, every slight shift flaunting the statuesque lines of his body. His wings flare, serrated edges silhouetted by daylight, a personal sunset.

Her eyes widen. Cain, who was watching her riveted gaze with a touch of satisfaction pulling up the corner of his mouth, interjected smoothly. ‘It's not mine. A spawn was found close to city lines.’

‘Is that what you were busy with all morning?’ She asks, alarm fading into distraction. Blood lashed against white wings, macabre and ethereal. Offsetting, Lane thinks, no, enhancing temptation, disoriented by her own strange desires.

‘Yes.’ His voice dips, softness melting it. ‘Were you alone for long?’

‘No,’ she answers absentmindedly, eyes transfixed to the startlingly intimate sight of his bare feet. Unarmoured like this, without the chainmail of his condescending sneer and paradoxical words, he seems closer than ever. Like she would only need to reach out for her fingertips to graze soft skin and sculpted muscle, obscured to the rest by shadows and secrets.

Appeased, he turns to the side, pushing back his drenched sleeves around his elbow. Only then does the room start to come together in snatches. Clothes strewn across the carpeted floor, his jacket a bloodied heap by the balcony, transponder thrown on the bedside table. A basin with murky water seated on the dresser, a rag dangling haphazardly from it. Precise to him, messy to others. Not unlike the owner himself, she thinks.

Satisfied with her appraisal, she peeks over at him. Leaning over the basin, rag coiled loosely around his hand, he looks half sunken in a dream. Only the rustling of his wings betray his restlessness.

Her spine is yanked straight by a part of her, a phantom cerebrum spawned to gauge and dissect every shift in his body and every quirk of his mouth. Cain would never allow himself to be so absent. Her heart screeches with alarm, and her mind reluctantly allows the theatrics, admitting the oddness of his behavior.

‘Cain?’ she calls quietly.

Regret follows almost immediately. At the most inopportune moment, she realizes she has no idea how to proceed when he responds. Cain has always taken care of her in his own absurd way, the experience irksome even as the memory fills her empty soul with sunlight. But Lane could hardly care for herself, much less an immortal.

His lashes flutter, moth wings skimming his skin as he blinks out of his daze. ‘Sorry, I was lost in thought.’ His eyes clear, latches clicking shut inside him. ‘I should clean my wings.’ They flick, avouching his words. ‘Not exactly the amorous activity you were envisioning, I'm sure.’

Her eyes narrow but they cannot lance metal. He meets her scouring gaze with calculated repose. His shoulders sink, memories imploding within, then return to their usual assured set, dust settling in the span of a blink.

Only a second, but it's enough for Lane to pry at the chips in his marmoreal mask. She sighs softly as slivers of his bare face come into view. He's… tired. So, so tired. Abandoned by heaven, shunned by earth, untouchable on his altar of divinity. Angel, priest, soldier. Beautiful as a statue, but who dares to touch him? Who can he hold?

Sensing the weight of her thoughts, he straightens imperceptibly, shuttering off any weakness.

Even now, after hurting and helping and licking their wounds, they still hesitate, circling each other like sharks scenting blood, the instinct to hurt before getting hurt honed and layered like second skin, excruciating to rip off. But they can't keep holding onto an infected limb that devours the rest of the body. Years of violent instinct wars with a fragile, blossoming ache.

The words spill out of her lips, noxious blood evanescing, her first breath without her own violence pressing down on her sweet and fresh. ‘Let me help.’

His eyes snap back to hers and lock their gazes. Narrowed, assessing, wary, they're as entrancing as ever. He sighs, the same side emerging victorious in him. ‘I'll give you a chance to back out. I'm warning you now that your arms will ache for the next week.’

‘I won't come complaining to you,’ she says dryly, the secret curve of his mouth sending a flurry of warmth through her.

He follows her lead, effortlessly carrying the basin to an empty spot in the center of the room, sunlight casting the illusion of warmth on the rug. He sets it down and folds himself into a cross-legged posture, somehow elegant even while sitting on the floor.

Lane follows suit, kneeling behind him on the plush carpet. She ties her hair back into a loose knot and pulls back her sleeves, goosebumps arising on her exposed skin immediately. She shivers, body noting the frigidity of his room while she herself is enraptured by the angel.

This close to him, the diaphanous material of his shirt coyly divulges flashes of his body. The slope of his shoulder blade. A channel down his lower back. The sylphlike curve of his waist. Lane exhales slowly, expelling the need to touch him and trace his skin. The intoxicating heat radiating off him doesn't abate the desire to drape herself over his back and see what he'd do.

‘Having second thoughts? Maybe your delicate arms hurt already?’

She rolls her eyes, abruptly breaking through for air. The same person who tenderly drowns her in the thick, languid ocean of desire also hauls her out of it with his infuriating quips.

He slides the basin over to her in reparation.

Experimentally dipping her fingers into the basin, she sighs with relief at the lukewarm water. She dunks the rag in, drenches it, and pauses, water dripping rhythmically onto the floor, lapped up by the carpet. How sensitive are his wings? She remembers the library incident with a quivering in her stomach, the idea of her touch making him still heady more than any wine or pomegranate juice. How hard can she use the rag on them?

His voice is glazed with amusement. ‘This feels familiar. Now is the time to ask me if I'm gloating.’

That settles it. ‘Why should I when I know the answer?’ she replies as she presses the rag to the base of his wing agonizingly gently. He jerks, the beginnings of a low gasp escaping past his teeth before he quiets, wings flaring.

Lane bites her lip to rein in a smirk, throat going dry at the noise and where else she'd like to hear it, again and again.

‘Have it your way, then. Is this payback for that time in the library?’ he retorts, shoulders unnaturally tense.

‘What do you mean?’ she says lightly, carefully moving the rag from the base to the top. His wings rustle and flick, but settle quietly.

A light laugh floats through the air, melding seamlessly with this impossible afternoon.

Cain stays quiet as she works her way through the large expanse, occasionally trembling as she grazes certain spots. She makes mental notes of them, for future reference. Or for leverage.

Her nose wrinkles as she nears the tip of his wing. Spawn gore clumps to the feathers, a sickly sweet smell emanating from the blood.

Cain almost whirls around at her first cough. ‘I'll deal with the rest. You've done enough.’

She waves him off. Before she could think it over again, her hand cups his shoulder, turning him away. A tremor goes through her at her boldness, the heat of his muscle and bone against her fingers warming her entire arm.

‘You reek,’ she says airily, only to douse the incalescence of his gaze, burning her more than his skin as she touched him like she had the right to.

‘Who came to whose room?’

A gradual undoing, Lane watches as her own hands cast magic, turning back time, water swilling blood from his wings, leaching them pure and white.

She retraces her path, returning to the base of his wings where stubborn flecks of blood linger on the feathers. Faltering for just a second, she discards the rag. Her fingers, a gentler heir, glide over the plumage, outsing sanguine settlers.

Cain arches like a cat, allowing himself a muffled moan before rebounding, curving into her. A shuddering breath is the only movement she shows. His back barely brushes her front, the faint contact sparking a riot in her head, one side chanting lean in close, closer, the other pull away I can't breathe anymore.

As the sun drops lower into the sky, in tandem he sinks lower onto her, the silky strands of his hair chilling her chin, the weight of his body warm and comforting. His initial wariness washed away with the blood, he's as cozy and relaxed as a housecat dozing in a patch of sunlight.

Disappointment unfurls petals inside her chest as the last of the blood is wiped away, wings gleaming in the sunlight. Enveloped by him, his body, his scent; sweet and faintly musky, entirely him with the effect it had of wanting to fall headlong into his lies, time has no meaning. The world waiting with ravenous jaws holds no importance when he's quiet and boneless in her arms.

‘Cain?’ she whispers, unsure if he's awake.

‘Hmm?’

Her toes curl into the carpet. His usual liquid smooth voice has been rendered low and thick, drowsiness dipping his tone.

She hesitates. Is it worth jolting him from his place against her—as it should be, her heart croons— for her selfish desire of wanting to look at him?

Ironically, it's her indecision that awakens him, alertness seeping back in. He slips out of her hold, a gentle thief escaping into the night, and turns to face her. ‘What is it?’ he asks, traces of worry playing in his voice.

I wish I could look at you when I want to without searching for an excuse. I wish you would keep being near to me. I want you to keep seeing me.

‘Nothing,’ she bites out, frustrated with herself, eyes catching on an anomaly in the blinding purity of snow. ‘There's dried blood crusted in your hair.’

He sighs, mindlessly patting his hair, completely missing the spot.

‘Let me,’ she interrupts quietly, pieces falling into place, desire breathing her wishes to life.

He eyes her curiously. Whatever he finds makes his mouth twitch and obediently lower his head, submitting to the ministrations of her fingers. A thrill fires through her like an arrow. She quite likes the idea of him bowed and hazy-eyed in front of her.

Her fingers ease into silken strands, white and gold playing on her skin. They trail unwillingly, longing to linger and straighten the wisps hanging over his eyes for him. She flicks the rusty flakes off, careful to not tug at the strands.

Hyperaware of every steady inhale and exhale of his, her own breathing wavers, growing shallow. She attempts to veer her attention back to his hair, instead of the proximity of her chest to his face, when his arm curves around her waist, long fingers splaying out, burning her from rib to hip.

Before she could steady herself to this, him, his thumb traces the jut of her rib. All coherent thought dissipates. Heat whirls up her insides. His fingers trail teasingly over the curve of her waist before stilling on her hip, and she wishes with sudden, fervent clarity that he would play on her skin. Be so familiar to him that he would reach for her to ease his restlessness, her hipbone echoing his music, instead of an undeserving slab of wood.

‘Your knees must hurt. Sit.’ He sounds from below her, words almost breathed into her throat. His voice lowers, a surrender just between them. ‘I can bow down for you.’

She lowers her eyes to his. A misstep. Hazy from sleep, sharp in the corners, sunlight sands down his usual jagged gaze and wicked smirk, turning him into a visage of heaven. Angelic, she thinks for the first time since she awoke to him, both at the rift and at the estate.

Cain has always been inhumanely beautiful from the moment she saw him glowing like an impossible mirage amidst blood and snow, but his beauty is almost unbearable now that she's seen the planes of that same untouchable face contort in anger, slacken in tiredness, soften in fondness. Every feature has been slashed into her mind since their first meeting, but he's a mystery she'll never tire of. She studies each detail with the same fascination as the first time.

Gold clings to every lash with the devotion of the sea returning to sand. Dawn rises in his eyes, the only place where she looks forward to sunrise. Cheekbones like cliffs, sweetpea pink lips. Twin moles wink at her from below his eye and cheek, a taunt mirrored in his eyes: What will you do now?

He tilts his head up, her hand that lay forgotten in his hair sliding down like rain. Brow bone, cheekbone, till the base of her palm curves against his jaw.

She's holding his face in her hand. What will you do now?

Her eyes hesitatingly find his again. The same eyes that speared into her being, trying to unravel her before she could undo him, that held and kept all his secrets, now betray him and look at her with undisguised tenderness. His gaze is the only mirror she can stand to look at herself anymore, her callousness and apathy smoothed over by his affection.

She loops her free arm around his neck, feeling his shoulders tense in surprise. In no reality will she come out of this unscathed. But would it be worth being hurt by these same hands that hold so gently?

Her eyes flit to his lips. Oh, but it would be worth being condemned to hell by this mouth. His lips part, luring her in before the din of doors slamming and a chorus of intermingling voices shatters their retreat.

Lane is off the floor and three feet away from him before he could even blink. His tenderness ripples into a scowl. His eyes glint a lurid red as he rises to his feet.

‘I should go,’ she says hastily, impatient to curse every member of the squad and then pore over every second of this afternoon before it dissipates like a dream.

‘And where are you rushing off to?’ he asks, notes of ire lurking in his voice.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘My room. I don't think the General will be pleased about me spending quality time with you instead of working.’

His mouth curls in derision. ‘If Dmitry's concern is incompetence, you're the least of his problems.’

His tone gives her pause. The second she tilts her head, his cool nonchalance snaps back into place, clicking shut with the finality of a lock.

‘I'll get going,’ she echoes before her heart could rope her into some foolish scheme. ‘Will you go to sleep now?’

‘Yes.’ He pauses, eyes sliding to her, lingering on her exposed collarbone. His voice lowers, softens, a snake coiling around flesh and she feels his words like he whispered them onto her skin. ‘Will you miss this opening?’

Her heart jolts. He can't possibly be…?

‘To watch me sleep again.’ He tilts his head innocuously, the effect offset by his growing smirk. ‘What were you thinking?’

Entirely unhelpfully, her mind bestows her with a visual. She thinks of him asleep, cheek pillowed by his arm, lashes casting needle-thin shadows, his ever-furrowed brows relaxed and a physical burn flares to life under her ribs.

She knits her brow in irritation, saving face too late, hastening to leave. The Cain who curved into her like the moon, who she'd christened angelic had fallen asleep, dreaming in some crevice of his mind. The one who stands in front of her, challenge highlighted in every plane of his face, is familiar, familiar and dangerous, familiar in a sense that she could hardly guess his next thought.

Just as her hand wraps around the door handle, she senses his searing presence behind her. Her body reacts instinctively, gearing up. Cain sends all of her emergency responses into overdrive, fight, flight, and fight speeding and crashing at the junction of her mind. All thoughts come to a screeching halt, leaving only expectant silence, air thrumming with possibilities. A discordant note or a lilting melody?

His fingers curl around her wrist, a gossamer touch. He lowers his head while raising her wrist, night falling as the moon rises to meet as a sunset, as a kiss. His cool breath snakes across her skin, travelling the course set by her veins, the faint brushes of his lips blissful torture.

A marionette in his hands, he angles her wrist to his mouth, setting the stage. The first act: the bite of his teeth against her pulse.

Her shoulders seize and she bites her lip, the blooming pain-pleasure shoving a gasp back inside her mouth. He presses, so gently, an invisible divot to savor and linger over at night, an ephemeral mark of him on her skin.

Can he feel her hand trembling? Her knees will give out if he continues.

In answer, in tender defiance, he scrapes his teeth across her pulse point, shrapnel and velvet, mouth feverishly hot, teeth deliciously sharp. Her spine jerks, pulled by his strings, aching to lean against his body. A low noise escapes her before she could haul it inside.

He halts, knowing when to coax with hardly a look, pulling her along to freefall into desire, another line they can never uncross, and when to let her be. He presses a full kiss to soothe her skin, before the curtain falls with a delicate graze of his lips over the faded cut on her palm.

He pulls back and she blinks as the world rushes in, both the celebrated principal actress and the dazed, breathless audience. He lowers her wrist gently, fingers falling away like the night. ‘Thank you,’ he says quietly with no trace of the smugness she was expecting.

She could hardly remember what she replied or how she stole away into the hallway. Half her mind still trembling in that room with him, the other half lazily waking up from a pleasant dream, she muses as she stumbles to her room.

The weight of the emptiness in her soul is always lurking, always ready to drag her into nothingness. Being around others only seems to chip away the remnants of her soul clinging to her insides; their strained laughter, easy anger and human hope shattered mirror shards reflecting the humanity long gouged out of her. You are not like us. Each irregular mosaic amplified till the message was deafening. You are not like us!

But as she stood in the hallway, vision golden with dust motes swirling around in a lazy waltz in the ballroom of sunlight, her soul is… silent. Not clamoring in its depleted state, begging to find its stolen half and fill it up. Cain's mere presence lifts this particular veil of half death, making her heart pumping in lazy disinterest startle awake, having to work overtime to make up for her lungs slacking.

Though she was the one who wished to lighten his burden today, it seemed he was imbuing her with his own life force with every touch. A thirst for life, and just not survival, gasped for air within her, only to see him again, to touch him again and make him tremble.

The corner of her mouth twitches as she turns the handle.

She has to find a way to get him back for that kiss.

[thesupreme316]

aew wrestlers x female readers and their favorite positions in bed?

darius martin, dante martin, daniel garcia, hook, action andretti, ricky starks, eddie kingston, and i know they're not in aew, but could you add drilla moloney & charlie dempsey 🙏

AEW STARS AND: Their Favorite Sex Positions (18+)

Pairings: Darius Martin X Female Reader, Dante Martin X Female Reader, Hook X Female Reader, Ricky Starks X Female Reader, Daniel Garcia X Female Reader, Action Andretti X Female Reader, Eddie Kingston X Female Reader, Swerve Strickland X Female Reader,

Word Count: 1.3K

Supreme Speaks: heyyyy (sorry for being late per usual). thanks to my tumblr bae @hooks-martin for the request (for the last two, I didn't know anything about them but I traded them for swerve). i think this is the most explicit imagine of mine so plz take it easy on me. anyways, please remember that you are loved and appreciated. ALSO HAPPY HOLIDAYS

Warnings: Mature content (if you are a minor, please do not read), explicit content and images, explicit language and indications

Taglist: @hooks-martin @hookerforhook @batzy-watzy @wwenhlimagines @triscillal @cassie0sstuff @sheinthatfandom @eddie-kingstons-wifey

**All the positions and their names be referenced from this website**

Hook: Cowgirl

I can just see it

Him on his back looking up at you and admiring the view; with a smirk

BUT DON’T GET IT TWISTED

He is very much in charge

Will command how fast or slow you go; he doesn’t care about the speed….but will change it if he’s punishing you

“You can ride me a lot faster can’t you baby girl?”

If he sees you getting tired (or he is punishing you), he will just drill up into you with no mercy (you’re riding a jackhammer now)

Frequently brings you down to kiss you (Watering Can position)

Loves it when you scratch his torso; it’s like you're leaving your mark/brand

I CAN SEE HIM REACHING UP AND CHOKING YO-

Just to see you squirm a bit more, he’ll talk in Italian

Tw: google translate

“Prendilo per me tesoro, so che puoi.” (Take it for me baby, I know you can.)

Action Andretti: Bizet

Again like I have said in the past

Man’s a sweetheart but also very shy

This is the perfect position since he probably might clam up if he looks into your eyes

Not in a bad way ofc

From this position, you can’t see him blush

So he wants to be as close to you as possible

And he also wants to be able to slip in at any given chance

I think he prefers slow thrusts so you both can feel everything and take in the moment

Loves to whisper in your ear

“It’s almost like your body was built for mine”

I see him as a tits person, so he squeezes them from behind

…

After careful consideration, yeah my answer is still the same he is a tit person

OVERALL HE IS A SWEETHEART

Dante Martin: Reverse Cowgirl

MMMMM THIS IS MY DREAM SO EXCUSE ME FOR THE PRIVAT-

MANS IS A ASS PERSON

Smacks/gropes your ass whenever

And is a switch too idc what you say; So I think this position gives you both control in a way

If he’s the sub, you’re controlling the pace and more so focused on your pleasure by rubbing yourself

If you’re the sub, MORE ASS SMACKIN not hard or anything (he’s a soft Dom if anything)

I also believe he will pull your hair back to the point your back is on his chest (just walk with me) and he pistons into you

Is a dirty talker too

“Fuck you feel incredible. Come for me”

But tbh I see him more as a sub in bed so…he slightly whimpers and whines in my mind

Will ask you to turn around so he can see your face

Like I said prior, he’s soft so I cannot see him being harsh or rough in bed

Darius Martin: Forbidden Fruit

Teehee

Man is a giver; A GIVER I TELL YOU

Giving you pleasure to the point where all you’re doing is screaming and losing your breath?

Teehee he lives for that

“You taste amazing love”

Loves it when you are on top

Eventually, the position turns into tiramisu or you riding his face

I don’t think he’s a sub all the way but more so a switch who really wants to please you

Tell Darius what to do an he will do it with no hesitation

For an “actual” position, I think he would love the scissor position

It’s very intimate for him and it gives him access to his favorite parts of you

I also think it would be the best position as he can see your facial expressions and give you extra stimulation

Again Darius would be all for your calls and satisfaction

Ricky Starks: Oasis

LITERALLY IT’S UP HIS ALLEY

He can see everything

Tits, Ass, Face, Neck, etc.

He likes to be up close and personal with you so he can kiss you at any point

Also, it’s easy likes to motorboat you

Side note; we all know he likes to be called daddy

So yes he will be referring to himself as Daddy

“Look at you being daddy’s good girl”

Sex-wise, Ricky is a full Dom you cannot make that man into a sub

if you do, he is the brattiest sub ever

Mostly a soft Dom but will turn up the (h)eat when necessary

He just loves being in control (speed, position, etc.)

SUCH A FUCKING TEASE; will intentionally slow down just to see you whine and beg for more

I think he will also convert Oasis into the cowgirl position

Overall, don’t give Ricky too much power

Eddie Kingston: Temptation

Okay let's have a real moment (pulls up chair) This man is so selfless that it’s crazy

For the most part, I can see him as a missionary man, because of the fact that he doesn’t want you to put in work

With temptation, he can see your face and know if he’s truly giving you pleasure

It’s also the perfect position to touch all the parts of you that can give more stimulation

AND YALL CAN DO IT EVERYWHERE

Eddie is a Dom; both a hard and soft Dom

He doesn’t want to go too harsh on you (unless you want it)

Control doesn’t matter to him tbh

Will actually do anything you ask him to because he’s so hung up on pleasing you

LOVES IT WHEN YOU TOUCH HIM OR SCRATCH HIS BACK

“Touch me like that again”

Will ensure that you have more orgasms than him

Eddie is a selfless man and puts your needs over his

Daniel Garcia: Chibi

We all know that DG is a switch (man is a bratty sub let's be honest)

But more important he is an ass man

Chibi stands out the most for me to him

With the position, he can go the pace either you or he wants to go

He can also grab or smack that booty whenever

GOES CRAZY WHEN YOU MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM

I can also see him in the Nirvana position

With Nirvana, he can kiss your legs

I wouldn’t say he has a foot fetish but at the same time yeah he does

WHICH IS THE SEXIEST PART OF YOU IN HIS EYES (besides the ass)

Take the time to appreciate other parts of you

I wouldn’t say he’s a dirty talker but he’s definitely a moaner

….

Even my ass can see that and I need glasses

Swerve Strickland: Doggy Style/Downward Dog

Okay….let me dream real quick

THIS MAN? IS A HARD DOM ALL THE WAY WE ALL KNEW FROM THAT DAMN DEATHMATCH

This man is my baby daddy/sugar daddy and he wishes to be called as such

You? You’re either a slut or a princess in his eyes (I’m bot-)

Loves Doggy Style cause it gives him so much control

Will pull your hair and lean down to whisper in your ear

“You like that, don't you? Lucky for you, I could do this forever.”

Will also pull you up until your back reaches his chest

OR OR

He will put your face down further into the mattress and make you arch your back for him (Downward Dog)

Loves to smack your ass and hear your muffled screams

Will overstimulate you until you tell him to stop

AND HE WILL LOOK OVER AT YOUR PANTING AND SWEATY BODY WITH A SMILE

otay…I’m done

[funeralprye]

"Swerving over the road, eyes go out of focus, you love the feeling"

You and Noah were in the car together, him driving, you in the passenger seat. You watch as his long slender fingers gripped the wheel, oh what you'd do to have them inside of you. You needed him bad but he didn't need to know that or did he? Even if you two had fucked last night, you didn't care, you wanted him again and again, you could never get enough of that boy. Sleeptoken was playing inside of the car, you knew they were one of his favorite bands as they were yours.

His other hand resting on your thighs, you began to grow desperate needing him inside of you, the urge for him grew more and more strong the longer you sat there. You being to squirm feeling the wetness between your thighs, thinking of all he could do to you, how you were puddy in his hands everytime he touched you or cuddled with you.

"Noah" you say, as he looks at you, trying his best to focus on the road. "Yes?" He responded "I need you, I want you.." you say. He looks at you with a half assed grin saying, "when we get home, okay baby?" You whine saying "B-but I need you now, feeling mushy. He doesn't say anything knowing he has complete control over you. You thought to yourself, "fuck it" you reach over trying your best to unbuckle his belt, as you thought to yourself "damn if he doesn't look so good in skinny jeans"

" "Y/N, not while I'm driving." He said looking at you with a solemn look plastered across his face. He wasn't having it, and if you wanted him you'd have to try your best to wait. You were wearing a mini skirt with a long sleeve shirt but he ended up giving you his hoodie, since you were cold. You thought about touching yourself to give him a show, so that's exactly what you were going to do.

You slipped your hand between your thighs moving your panties slightly, circling your aching clit, dipping your fingers deep inside of your wet pussy, you desperately moaned his name as you started pumping your fingers in and out. He didn't notice at first but when he did he couldn't turn away, gazing at you watching the show you were putting on for him. "N-noah p-please fuck me" you managed to get out on the verge of tears. "I thought I fucking told you to wait, but God you're so needy. You need me that much?" He said as he was trying to hide the bulge in his pants.

You grinned at him knowing exactly what you were doing to him, you curled your fingers before pulling your fingers out of your soaking pussy. "Y/N, please stop, you're making me hard." He sighed as he tried to relax in his seat. "Please let me blow you baby, you say as you look at him with puppy dog eyes. He let out another sigh, almost admitting the defeat. You lean over so you could be in his lap, successfully unbuckling his belt, pulling his jeans and underwear down enough to expose his cock. He almost wanted it as bad as you but he wouldn't admit it.

He looks at you, grabbing you by the hair, making you look at him saying through gritted teeth " I told you to wait, I said wai-" he seemed pissed but he couldn't stay mad at his babygirl for long. He was cut off by your mouth fucking him, bobbing your head up and down faster and faster eager to hear him moan. He kept a straight face trying to focus on driving but he soon gave in, he started thrusting up in your mouth basically throat fucking you, he took over his hips moving at a fast pace. Slamming into you. Hearing you choke turned him on even more. He looked down at you and whispered "just couldn't wait could you? My little girl isn't being good today, and just wait til I get the chance to have my way with you." Next thing you know, he swerved over the road. Scaring you but you kept going sucking his member. "He grabs your hair roughly saying " we could've just wrecked, but you're being a needy little slut and if you want this so bad I'm going to pull over and fuck you so rough you'll cry, and there will be no aftercare" he says sternly. You let out a whimper knowing he always takes care of you after sex whether it be soft, slow, fast, passionate or rough. He always kisses your body and holds you close making up for how rough he had just got, kissing you passionately and caressing you as he rubs your back telling you it will be okay, and that your his baby and no one else's.

He does as he says, he pulls to the side of the road. You pull your mouth away from his cock, earning a mix of a moan and a sigh from him. You wrapped your hand around his cock pumping it up and down going as fast as you could. His precum was leaking down his pretty cock, hips bucking up needing more. He tells you to get in the back seat, and he sits down dragging you into his lap, his cock still out. You were eager to get your clothes off and let him fuck you like his little heart desires.

he cupped your face, making eye contact. "You're going to look at me while I fuck you and not break eye contact, okay?" You shook your head giving him a yes. He quickly took your clothes off tossing them on the car floor. He didn't even do foreplay which he never goes without touching you or burring his beautiful face between your thighs, but you didn't care this time, you were wet enough for him. Within seconds he was slamming into you without warning. Still making eye contact as he roughly fucked you. You shivered at the feeling of his cock buried deep inside of you, "N-noah you say loudly. He thrusts harder and harder getting more and more rough by the second. He gives up on thrusting, he seemed tired but then grabbed your hips and began bouncing you on his cock being so rough you could cry.

You dropped your head down feeling a knot in your stomach forming craving both yours and his release already. He said softly in your ear "Y/N, what did I say about not taking your eyes off of me?" You say "s-sorry Noah.." you say feeling a tiny bit guilty, his cock still buried inside, a few more bounces and you finally came screaming his name, he finishes right after you, as you feel him cumming, he throws his head back letting out a whimper and his legs shake as he tries to keep eye contact. He looks at you, his eyes go out of focus, you love the feeling.

He catches his breath as do you and he stands up throwing you your clothes, as he puts his back on. The drive home was quiet and you got sleepy, feeling warm and comfortable in his hoodie and you fall asleep. Noah was tired too but he kept driving until you got home. You didn't realize when you woke you were already in the bed you share with him, he must've carried you in. You look down to find him laying on your chest, as he woke he cupped your face saying "hey.. baby? I know I said no cuddles but I couldn't help myself, you're too sweet to resist" you smile ever so lovingly at him before he rests his head back on your chest, you lay back closing your eyes as you both fall fast asleep.

[rowretro]

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

WARNINGS: Blood, gunshots, death

✧CHAPTER 6✧

✧tag list✧: @chlorinecake @nikisdubblchococake @enhypensccstarlight @strwberrydinosaur @sunghoonsbeautymark @strawbsj 

After a few weeks of staying indoors for days on end, Riki finally let y/n take the baby out. It's not because he didn't trust him or anything, there were just so many rival gangs now running after him. Riki really wanted to quit being a drug lord, maybe start a successful company that's harmless and no where near illegal, or a little dance class so he can lay low and do something he's passionate about.

But once you pick up a gun, it's hard to let it go. Y/n decided to take the baby to the park, as it seemed reasonable, she carried the littlun, as she walked through the garden areas "look there! it's a little squirrel!" y/n cooed, as she turned the baby to face the squirrel, the baby giggled, clapping. Riki smiled, following after. "You have any idea on what we're going to name him?... he's almost ten months old" Riki asked as Y/n thought.

She gasped as she turned to Riki "Let's name him Pluto! a small planet with a big heart~" Y/n smiled as Riki sighed "Sweetheart- you named a tree, a fish, a Heeseung and a stray cat Pluto when you ate that brownie- think of a real baby name" Riki explained as he laid down a picnic blanket. "You're one to talk, Riki Jackson, Rizziki, Junior Riki-" Y/n started listing as Riki stuffed a marshmallow in her mouth.

"You know the view here is so pretty... it feels like its been forever since we've been out-" Riki blurted as Y/n was choking on the marshmallow, somehow swallowing it down "Lawd- why did you get the massive ones- and why'd you shove it in my mouth while I was talking?..." The girl asked with a frown as Riki mischievously giggled.

"What do you think about the name Kyle?... baby Kyle?" Y/n asked as she smiled at the baby, the baby babbling back. Riki turned to face the duo, "You know what, Kyle sounds good, it's cute, and when he grows up it'll be cool too... Come to daddy baby Kyle~" Riki smiled, as Y/n placed the baby on the picnic blanket, Riki watched as the little one crawled to him, with a little help from y/n.

Smiling, Riki took the baby in his arms, rubbing his nose against the baby's nose, "My little Kyle~" Riki cooed as the baby yanked his hair. "Aaah- Kyle- Kyleee- Something tells me you're going to be a trouble maker-" Riki whined softly, as the baby giggled at his reaction, pulling his hair a little more As y/n giggled.

After a fairly long day, Riki drove the three home, the baby asleep in the back with y/n beside. The silent drive was interrupted with multiple, ear-piercing gunshots, making y/n jolt, Riki's eyes widen as he cursed under his breath, to their luck the car and windows were bullet proof. Those motherfuckers were everywhere. swerving every obstacle in their way, and driving off the road, taking a shortcut into a much more secure, area.

Once Riki finally lost them, he turned behind to see Y/n was perfectly fine, the baby still peacefully sleeping. In fact the baby was awfully silent the through out the whole commotion. That's when it hit them. Y/n checked the baby's pulse. "Fuck- Riki there's no pulse!" Y/n exclaimed. The girl lying the baby down on a safer surface as Riki called the doctor.

Sunoo immediately picked up, hearing Riki's hysterical voice as he explained the events. "Riki, stay calm okay? just listen to my instructions" Sunoo calmly instructed Riki to do CPR on the baby... but not a single change, he then changed to mouth-to-mouth, and yet again no change...

Not stopping, He continued, never giving up "Come on baby Kyle, you can't leave me, I didn't take you to lose you like this please." Riki begged, as he continued giving CPR to the littlun. The sudden sound of a baby crying finally reached their ears, the tears leaving Riki's eyes, and hitting the baby as y/n snuggled the baby close to herself, crying in relief "Congratulations Riki you have given birth!" Sunoo joked, despite the situation, but Riki didn't care to get mad or react, he was just so relieved to have his son.

Not wasting any time, y/n gently slipped the headphones on the baby, Riki engulfing the both of them in a loving hug. "God those fuckers..." Riki mumbled, as his fists clenched. Y/n softly held his fist, the anger that was coursing through his veins disappearing almost instantly as his teary eyes met her glossy ones, "Riki... you saw what happened... i-if we fight back- t-they'll only aim for the baby, they know your weakness now Ki... I didn't want to say this before, but maybe this is a sign Ki... you need to stop getting blood on your hands" the girl explained, her eyes hopeful as Riki pulled away from her, slowly.

She was right... If he continued, things will only get worse, but if he stopped, the consequences that follow his past actions would at least be lessened. Riki kissed her forehead, and the baby's forehead, staring back into her eyes as he held her hand. "For us, and our future... I will let go of all the mafia ties..." Riki sincerely told her. He's already seen a pure, little soul lose his everything and almost his own life, he's seen his mother get killed by his own father, and he's even subjected his dear y/n to all this danger. All of this NEEDED to stop...

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

[unicornpopcorn14]

No. 9 Ramposano for the hug prompts (could be platonic or romantic it doesn't matter to me I'm starved for content of them either way tysm if you'll take the request)

—from @tulipe-rose

Hug prompts

9- Hugging them from behind to see what (how) they're doing.

Got carried away once again and wrote 2 parts and almost 3k words dgdhdj +This is more angsty than I originally planned gosh xdhdeh. tw for suicide, panic attacks and PTSD!! Hope you like it, Saff!! :D

Qualms Unprompted

1. 👓 → 🦋

Papers fall, medical utensils clank and disarray in a heap on the floor. She’s stock still.

The rope tied in a loop before her, hanging from the middle of the agency’s office’s ceiling, greets her silently with its ominous presence– and suddenly she isn’t at the agency anymore, suddenly the room is tainted in harsh hues of red, and suddenly there is a body limply suspended mid-air, one she cared so so much about and shit- shit she has to save him, she can’t mess up this time, not again, nonono-

A tap on her shoulder jolts her, and Yosano rigids so hard she thinks her body’s sturdiness was the same as a rock’s for a second, about to whip her head around, to confirm that what she’s beholding is real, to tell the other person to help her save him-

“Hey.” That voice- she knows that voice, “It’s okay… You’re okay…”

Arms gently wrap around her midsection from behind, securing her arms from treading upwards in order to claw her eyes out. Yosano’s world swerves in colors, dark red, bright white, dark red, bright white- Flickering and glitching like a playing of an old, dusty tape. The arms stay. They ground her. Always have.

The following minutes don’t feel like mere minutes, as the flames in her chest take a while to ebb down. Slowly, her thoughts clear enough for her to make sense of her surroundings, the scene finally stuck on bright white rather than dark red. She doesn’t dare look up at the noose again, transfixed on the ground and inhaling deeply. Finally, she realizes who has embraced her, who she trusts so much that her mind hadn’t offered a second of doubt that that voice is here to help-

Ranpo…

Sweet smelling, anchoring, trusted Ranpo…

“I’m sorry.” He croaks in her shoulder, sounding appalled, angry.

She chokes, “What- What is that-”

“It’s Dazai’s doing. The new guy.” He explains, and Yosano’s eyes close– right, right, Dazai. That was his schtick. How could she forget? “Sorry, I should’ve figured something like that would happen. I’ll make Fukuzawa give him a scolding or two about this.” Ranpo lets go, prompting her to turn from the scene. She does, though her eyes don’t yet open, paranoid about seeing dark red again.

Something about what Ranpo said rubs her off the wrong way– well, aside from the fact that he’d apologized two times in a row, “No- No, don’t.” She tries to articulate her thoughts, finding hands guiding her to sit on the floor, granting her shaking knees mercy, “He didn’t know– don’t blame him too hard. It’s not his fault I’m broken-”

A pinch to the ear surprises her, causing her eyes to open without permission-

“Ow, hey!” She glares at the man before her, though her fight leaves her at how serious he looks. His eyes are open, glaring at her from his cross-legged sit on the floor.

He takes her hand aggressively (never roughly), opens her palm, then puts something metal on top of it. Her eyes flick to the butterfly clip, her second anchor, and she grasps it tightly as she looks back up.

“It’s not his fault you’re broken, you say? Well, newsflash, genius, we all came to this agency broken.” He points at her, she blinks, “Don’t give me that look-” He mumbles quickly, “the blame on who broke us never falls on any person here. So, what, you’re suggesting we shouldn’t ever consider each other’s problems?! That we just shut up and take it whenever anyone crosses a line?! Are you insane?!”

“I-… But-” She wanted to counter, argue that chastising someone for something they didn’t know about is unfair. Dazai’s evidently a bundle of problems– problems she didn’t want to think about too hard, and getting rough with him the first few weeks after joining isn’t ideal, “Isn’t including Fukuzawa-sensei a bit much…?” She mutters weakly.

“Pff, who do you take Fukuzawa for? He knows how to handle each one of us, from the most recently joined to the latest. It’ll be fiiiine.” He flicks his hand nonchalantly, Yosano isn’t impressed, “No, I’m serious. He’ll just give him some stern words, provide him a brief idea of your situation, and a bunch of ‘please never do this again’. That’s it.” Yosano still isn’t convinced, Ranpo clearly takes offense to that, “Come on! When am I ever wrong?!”

Yosano smiles weakly at the clip. At least she’s a little reassured now. “Hm. You’re right…” Her expression falls quickly, however, her shoulders sagging, “Hope he doesn’t hate me more than he already seems to do, though…”

“Eh? He doesn’t hate you…?” Ranpo cocks his head, like it’s obvious, “He’s scared of you. There is a difference.”

Yosano’s brows furrow, eying Ranpo quizzically, “What? Why would he-”

“His past seems to be thoroughly erased, that even I haven’t figured out, for now.” He adds quietly, “Though it doesn’t take a genius to realize he has some sort of trauma associated with doctors, you know?” He shrugs

“Oh…” Yosano whispers. She should have considered that when the guy avoided her and her infirmary like the plague. Though, she was probably too busy escaping him and all his suicide ideations. Gosh, they need to talk. “Thanks… for pointing that out.”

“Wow, you didn’t even realize?” He sighs dramatically “Must be hard to be this dumb-”

“Shut up.” She punches his arm lightly, which he exaggeratedly whines over like a toddler. Yosano smiles, dark red forgotten entirely.

Despite her certainty that it will forever be a part of her, moments like these remind her that there are always people that will help her overcome it. People who’ll guide her, who’ll accept her, who’ll never use her, and never let anyone else use her, at least without the involvement of carnage and bloodshed.

People who’ll let her broken soul heal, slowly, slowly, never rush it, and never dismiss it.

Sometimes she wonders how she’s been blessed with such people.

“Thank you, Ranpo-san…” She says again, though it feels foreign on her tongue, seeing as they resort to teasing most of the time, their dynamic never changing since they’d known each other as teenagers– and it doesn’t help that Ranpo is still mentally stuck at fourteen, either, “For real, this time…”

“Ah.” Ranpo flicks his hat in pride, “It is but my very easily performed duty, though I am moved by your appreciation all the sa-”

“And please never sincerely apologize again.” She adds belatedly, feigning shivers, “That was weird.”

Ranpo’s speech comes to halt, for him to flatly say, “I don’t like what you’re implying with this one bit.”

“As you should.” She smiles teasingly, clip in hand, lost to the world as Ranpo throws a tantrum at her ‘disrespect’ and she laughs to his face, and keeps on laughing…

2. 🦋 → 👓

“Uh oh…” Yosano stops by the room she passes, eyes wide as she takes in the scene inside. Her non urgent duties get put on hold, taking a reroute as she steps inside.

Ranpo’s back is facing the door, but the glasses he wears are visible. That wouldn’t have halted her if it weren’t for the fact that he’s also deathly silent, seated alone. That’s never a good sign.

She doesn’t approach quietly, intentionally loud as to not spook him. He definitely knows she’s there, however, had known the exact second she’s stop and enter, every move she herself doesn’t yet know she’ll make.

On a whim, she resorts to lighten the clearly somber mood by wrapping her arms around him– a gesture either of them made whenever the other were too far in their own heads that they forget everything else, including themselves.

“Wham! You’ve been caged in by Yosano!” She chirps, glancing at the thing Ranpo’s holding. It’s a crossword puzzle, one with at least a thousand letters, but the older can easily solve with his eyes closed (literally), there is not even a need for glasses.

It’s surprising, however, that there are no words yet to be circled.

Ranpo doesn’t perk up or stiffen, as per expected, “Oh my, I’m so scared…!” He reciprocates weakly, though doesn’t take his eyes off the paper, as if in a staring contest with it, whoever breaks the stare-off loses.

“Hm, seems to be a troubling case we’re working on, huh?” She sarcastically mutters, breaking the hug and sitting on a chair parallel to his. He’s yet to lose the stare-off.

“Haha, very funny…”

“Well, it’s either that or you’re genuinely struggling with a crossword puzzle on a Tuesday morning.” Her gaze softens, “Seriously, why are the glasses on?”

“Don’t want them off.”

“Alright.” She shrugs, but doesn’t get up to leave, “Anything I can help with to take em off, then?”

“I won’t.” He speaks monotonously, “Also, stop insulting me before I hide all the chainsaws.”

“Hey, that’s too far!” She points jokingly, “Is that what I get for trying to help?”

“You aren’t helping.”

“Well,” She leans back, arms crossed, “I have nothing to do at the moment-”

“I know.”

“And the kids are outside so there is no one to scare for fun-”

“I know.”

“So I’ll naturally stay here until you take em off.”

“I knew you would-”

“Point taken, genius,” She snaps, frowning, “Come on, do I just yank them by force?!”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Gahhh!” She leans back, frustrated, “Look, Ranpo-san, maybe you know everything, Mr. ‘I have the best ability in the world’, but the inferior sum of us need context, here. Talk to me.”

Ranpo pauses, then finally loses with the paper, to give her the flattest look in history, “The sarcasm doesn’t erase the fact that this is a wildly embarrassing statement. Don’t say it again.”

Yosano blinks, taken aback. She wasn’t really sarcastic with the idea itself, more with the tiresome recite of a concept that she wholly believes in.

Besides, this is the first time Ranpo openly acknowledges that he’s not an ability user, at least to her, so the few seconds of her shocked silence is warranted, “What, weren’t you the one adamant that it’s an ability?” She asks with little bite to it. Matter of fact, they’ve just escaped from Poe’s book a week ago, marking this conversation’s uphold a bit too soon, “We just went over that.”

“And you’re humoring me, huh?” His grip on the paper tightens, teeth starting to grit, “Because I’m just a ridiculous fool who needs to be humored.”

“Woah, woah.” She reaches forward, taking the paper in her hands herself. She weakly tugs on it to ensure it won’t rip, and when Ranpo doesn’t fight back, she removes that barrier between them, “Where is all this coming from? I was serious about the ‘talk to me’ bit, by the way.”

Ranpo runs fingers through his hair, appearing troubled. Yosano patiently waits for him to gather himself. He sighs, head hanging as he mutters, “Sometimes… taking them off reminds me of how monstrous the world can become…”

Yosano leans forward, eyes down-casting as she takes that in, “Monsters, huh? You mentioned that before.”

“And it’s stupid, isn’t it? It’s the one thing I can’t wrap my head around.” He strains, trying to take them off but his shaky hands never pull them past the nose bridge, “This thing doesn’t amplify my ability- I don’t even have an ability. So why does such a useless artifact make me feel infinitely better? It’s nonsensical…”

“Hm.” Yosano nods, taking a moment to gather her own wits. She feels prided in the fact that she’s got Ranpo of all people to talk about something bothering him, trying not to mess up her chances, “It’s understandable, though. You’ve lived with that belief for… what, twelve years? I mean, I’m no psychiatrist, but it’s natural you won’t stop feeling those things all of a sudden…”

“But there is no logical explanation behind it, either.” Yosano is about to argue that there is, though doesn’t get the chance to when Ranpo scoffs, “It shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. I hate it, but I can’t convince myself that they aren’t good for me. So better to leave them on then, right?”

Yosano takes a moment, then shakes her head, “No. You’re going about it in the wrong way…” Ranpo’s gaze lifts to meet her eyes, “Maybe they really are good for you, no reason or explanation needed. But that doesn’t mean you should wear them all the time, either. You’ll lose your sense of self.”

“But I can’t… take them off. Not right now. Not when everyone– everything is…”

“Scary? Monstrous?” Yosano’s tone softens, “Perhaps we really are. And perhaps I’ll never truly understand. But look at it that way: Wouldn’t that mean that you’re the only one in this world strong enough to not become a monster like the rest of us? Do you realize how special you are?”

“Special…?” He looks at her unconvincingly, “Or fractured…?

“Both, if you will. But it’s the good kind of a fracture. The one so clean and unique doctors and scientists look into it and never figure out how it came to be.” She smiles a little at her analogy, finding it a bit silly but equally logical, “In other words, while your fractures don’t defy you, they’re equally a part of you that you have to embrace, Ranpo-san, and it all starts with accepting the fact that leaving the glasses on won’t help you the way you think they would…”

Ranpo listens intently, then pauses, glancing at the crossword puzzle for a second, the looking back at the ground. His fingers twitch in an ache to do as commanded, and Yosano smiles slightly,

“I have a feeling I’ve convinced you.” She opts to give the hands a verbal nudge, “Come on~ lemme see those pretty greens.”

Ranpo stares, then his face contorts in disgust, “Ew, you are so embarrassing right now– I think I wanna barf all the marshmallows I ate.”

Still not taking them off, then. One of her creepy smiles crack her face, “You’ll make me do it.”

Ranpo’s expression falls in horror, “No-”

Her fingers curl like the claws of a cat about to lunge, twitching up and down in warning, “I’ll do it!”

“No, wait-” He tries to escape but it’s futile-

“Tickle attack!”

“BAHAHAH- STOP-!” He tries to push her off, but it’s futile. No amount of genius can escape the dreaded tickle attack, especially when trapped in a chair, “Okay, okay fine! Geez!” He yanks the glasses off before he has the chance to dwell on it, handing them to her with a pout and a huff, “Here!”

“Thaaank you,” She sing-songs in satisfaction, then turns fake-doctor-mode on, “You’re suspended from wearing them for 24 hours, only I can wear them.” She orders, putting them on and making explosion noises, “Woah, I feel my mind growing in size, already!”

“Stop it,” Ranpo pushes her head away while snickering, making her snicker back, “You’re lucky I’m a good patient who listens to my doctor.”

“You literally aren’t. The Agency’s dentist gets a mini heart attack whenever you visit.”

“Well, she should lower her expectations, then! What do you mean I can’t eat three packs of gummy bears for breakfast?! This is abuse!”

“Oh yeah. Seriously, who does that?!” She wails along with him, both of them wide-eyed and comfortable, “I bet she even tells you not to end the day with four lollipops for good luck before going to sleep!”

“She does! Can you imagine?!” Ranpo giggles, “Wow, are the glasses really working?”

“Well, they’re certainly effective, seeing as they spent twelve years belonging to Ranpo-san, best detective in the world!” She lowers her pitch gesturing a headline before her, “Even the glasses should have picked some of your intellect, by now!”

Ranpo chuckles, subdued as he averts his eyes, “Would be stupid of them not to.”

“Yeah…” She deflates as well, taking them off, “Don’t call yourself that again, though, ‘kay? Foolish and ridiculous don’t suit you.” She opens Ranpo’s palm and places the old glasses on them, to which he stares at, and doesn’t do more than that, “Well, in most instances.”

It takes a while, but Ranpo finally mutters, “They don’t.” She relaxes, perhaps even sighs in relief, “You’re right.”

She watches him, face flickering with emotion, then giddy excitement and confidence taking over, an expression she’s so familiar with, the one she’s learned to appreciate immensely,

“You’re right. I am the best!” He jumps up, standing on the chair as he loudly laughs, “Who was that hater spouting nonsense about me a minute ago?! They don’t understand jack shit!”

Fukuzawa suddenly spawns at the door, “Language. There are children present.”

The two of them jump out of their skin, panickily looking at one another then in one breath exclaim, “Sorry, sensei!”

~

The next day, Yosano finds a crossword puzzle in her infirmary, and her eyes widen…

The words ‘Thank’, ‘you’, ‘upcoming’ and ‘genius’ are the only words highlighted, with a little note at the bottom reading: never as genius as I am, tho!

She smiles, already planning to get him back for that.

[jordie-gvf]

innocence, danny wagner

i had this little gem stored away in my brain and decided to make it into a fic. i loved writing this because im absolutely in love with dom!danny.

word count : 1.8k+

warnings : car sex, road head, anal play, fingering, squirting, slapping, teeniest bit of cum play, oral m rec, innocence kink if thats even a thing, handjobs, GIANT daddy kink, nipple play, breeding kink, hair pulling, ass eating, language

ENJOY!

Danny knew that you loved his car, you loved being in the car with him, riding with him anywhere he went, but you loved riding him in his car even more. Whenever he had a hard day at work or if he was just stressed, he would take the top off and then you two would go get ice cream. You'd drive to a secluded area where no one could see and you'd help him take the edge off his day. 

You and Danny were driving to Bourbon and Beyond together, top on because it was raining, all your stuff packed in the trunk. You were texting Briley, your sister, your eta and what you were gonna do together. Her and Marcus lived on the westside of Nashville, while you and Danny lived on the eastside. 

Usually, Danny would have one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the gear shifter. Today, he had one on the wheel and one in between your legs.

Danny had been fingering you almost the entire time you were on the road. He found your g-spot and you threw your head back and moaned. “Feel good when I touch you there, princess?”  he asked you and you nodded. He sped his movements up until you came all over his hand.

Once you came, he licked his fingers clean and you two pulled up to a red light. He undid his belt and then pulled his jeans down. “Put that mouth to use and make Daddy feel good.” He grabbed your hair and whispered in your ear, “just pretend you dont know what your doing for me love.” The light turned green and he proceeded to the highway.

You looked up at him through your lashes and mewled out, “I dont know how, Daddy.” He went along with what you were saying and gasped. “No princess? You dont know how to please?” You shook your head and he told you what to do. “Take your fingers and rub over it, slowly. Slowly, princess.” You listened to him and did exactly what he said. He threw his head back against the headrest and moaned. “Im gonna pull my underwear down now princess, okay?” You nodded eagerly and waited for him. His cock sprung out and hit his stomach. “Daddy, please let me suck it. Ill be so good. Ill be a good girl for you.” He lightly slapped you and said, “Shut the fuck up. Stop fucking whining or else ill make you sit there and watch me jerk my cock.” 

You looked at him in the passenger seat and he yanked your hair back. “You wanna suck it? Fine. Suck it like a fucking Bomb Pop.” 

You suckled on the tip and he said, “Come on princess. That's all you can do? Go all the way down. All the way.” Once you went all the way down, he said, “There we go. Good girl, listening to her Daddy.” You started choking and he threw his head back. He started swerving and you stopped. He pushed your head back down and told you to keep going. “Take your mouth off. Jerk my cock.” You listened to him and wrapped your hand around him. You twisted your hand up and down on him and he started going a little faster on the road. “Faster. I know you can go faster for me, love.” he said. You went faster and he said, “I know you love my cock. Love on it. Kiss it. Savor it.” You kissed the pink tip and suckled on it. His breathing started to falter and he started to be inconsistent with the gas pedal. “Move your fucking hand,” he said to you. You sat back in your seat and let him do what he needed to. He spit on his cock and jerked himself off. He quickly looked at you and said, “Take your tits out for me princess.” 

You moved the top of your dress down and threw your bra off. He looked at your boobs and said, “Why so swollen? Got excited, pleasing Daddy?” You nodded and he asked you, “Why didn't you touch ‘em?” You made eye contact with him and said, “You never told me I could. I need permission from Daddy.” The sight alone made him cum. He came all over his hand and all over his stomach. He put his hand out to your tit and rubbed his cum on your boobs. He dragged his finger through the cum on his stomach and shoved his finger in your mouth. You sucked on his finger the same way you sucked him off. He pulled his finger out and stopped at the light. He pulled his pants up and buckled his jeans.

“Rub ‘em. You know you want to. Rub my cum into your tits, princess.” he told you. You pouted and said, “I want you to do it. Your hands are so much bigger.” His eyes got dark and he said, “Well princess, Daddy is driving right now. We want to get you there safely, so I can use your princess pussy as soon as we get there.” You licked your lips and went over to his belt, trying to undo it. “Take your cock out. Let me touch it. Please let me touch it.” He stopped your hand from moving and said, “Stop trying to get me hard or I'll pull this car over and spank your little ass until it's red.” You cowered into the passenger seat, upset because he knows you dont like pain. 

“D?” you called out to him. 

“What!” he yelled at you. 

You turned away from him and pulled your dress back up. You looked out the window and refused to look at him. He turned over to see you, not looking at him, legs close to the door. He spoke to you, “Lovebug, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I won't spank you, promise. Cmon baby, look at me.” You wouldnt turn your head to look at him. He moved his hand to your shoulder and started to pull your dress sleeve down. It was a small car, so he could touch you pretty easily. He moved his hand from your shoulder down to your chest. He pulled your dress down and touched your tits. “Princess, they're so hard. Come on, let me see the other one. Let me see my girls.” You slowly moved towards him, flashing your eyes at him. “Why you over there crying? Did I make you upset?” He asked you. You nodded and moved away from him, pulling your dress back up. 

He pulled into a random abandoned parking lot and undid his jeans. You looked at him and he said, “Take your panties off and hike that dress up.” You did exactly as he said and he pulled you on top of him. He led his cock to your cunt and moved you over his cock. He pulled the top of your dress down and let his hands roam your chest. “I love these fucking tits. Mmm, love sucking them.” he said, and took your nipple into his mouth. He moaned around your nipple as you rode him. He rubbed your other boob and took his mouth off your nipple. He opened his mouth to show you that he sucked his own cum into his mouth. He spit it into his hand and moved it up to your mouth. You licked it off his hand and moaned as soon as you tasted it. “I love your cum, Daddy. Want it in me.” His eyes widened and he said, “Yeah? You want Daddy to make you a mommy? Want Daddy to fill you up? Daddy’ll fill you up with babies, I love stuffing you full of my babies.” He kissed you and you moaned into his mouth. He put his hands on your ass and took his cock out of your pussy. “Can I stick it in this little ass? Let Daddy fuck your ass, princess?” he asked and you nodded. “I'd let you stick it anywhere Daddy, love your cock.” 

He spit on his thumb and rubbed it on your hole. He pushed the tip in and you gasped, not expecting it to feel so good. He grabbed your hair and pulled, exposing your neck. He left little kisses all over your neck. He grabbed your hips and pushed you down. 

He moved you up and down on him and put his middle finger on your clit. He rubbed it a little and held pressure on it. He moaned out, “This little ass is so tight, I fucking love it. Can I cum in it? Can I cum in your little ass?” You shook your head and said, “No, want you in my pussy.” He shook his head and said, “Let me fill this ass, then when we get to Bourbon, I'll fill up your little pussy. How's that sound?” You nodded and started crying. He picked up the pace and pulled out. He motioned you towards your seat and told you to bend over. You bent over to front seat, hand on the window, and he kneeled and fucked his hand. You felt something wet touch your asshole. There was no way. 

You looked back and sure enough, he was eating your ass. He looked up at you and smiled, tongue still moving. He put his fingers up your pussy and fingered you. You felt him brush your g-spot, you flung your head up and reached back to move his head closer to you. You pressed his face into your ass and licked harder. He moved back to spit on it, and went back in for more. 

You could tell he was about to cum when his pace started slowing down. You looked down and his hand was getting slower. You moved to put his cock in your mouth. He started twitching in your mouth and he pulled your head back and came on your face. He gave you some light taps as he was panting. He pulled his underwear up and his jeans up. 

He put his seatbelt on and told you to wait a minute. Once he got back on the road, he put his fingers out towards you and he rubbed your clit until you came. You knew something was different, it didn't feel like you were going to cum. Your vision went white and you heard Danny say, “Holy shit! Baby did you see what you did?” and laughed. You shook your head no and he said, “You just squirted,” You looked at him surprised and he nodded. You reached for your panties in his hand and he snatched them from you. He shook his head and told you to go without.

You had fallen asleep to the sound of Danny singing. When you woke up, you were at the hotel. He gently woke you up and told you, “We're at the hotel, Love.” You moaned and slowly got up. He got the two bags out of the trunk and you grabbed your purse that was behind your headrest. 

He met you outside the car and you texted Briley and told her you were there. You were in the lobby when you saw her. She took one look at you and said, “Tell me everything.”

[fishylipsblubblub]

The Silent Observer, Chapter 1

When you get hired at El Michoacano, you quickly discover that not all is as it seems...

A/N: This one has been marinating in my google docs for a long ass time because i wasn’t really sure how i felt about the beginning, but i kinda just realized theres no point in writing fanfic if im not gonna post it, so here y’all go. btw i’m planning for this one to be long AF

Pulling out of the McDonalds drive through, I turned onto the road. I tried for a second to open the lid of my coffee, but decided it was a bad idea and set it in the cup holder. I exhaled and gripped the wheel until my knuckles were white. Rain drops pummeled the windshield as I drove onward. The weather was uncharacteristically rainy for New Mexico, but the rain was a welcome sight. The constant heat got on my nerves all the time since I’d came here.  

“Hi, my name is y/n l/n,” I practiced. “I’m here for the interview. Yes, I would like some water, thank you. My biggest weakness? I’m too hard working. No, wait, that’s cliche. And not even true. No, my biggest weakness is.. I usually wake up after 12, and employers don’t generally like that.” I heaved an exasperated sigh. “They’re never going to hire me.”

My intention was to collapse my head into the steering wheel dramatically, but instead I hit the horn with my forehead and scared myself. I sat up straight immediately, and timidly waved an apology at the driver next to me who was now giving me a dirty look. 

I reached over to the cup holder to grab my coffee without taking my eyes off the road. The rain was unceasing, and I didn’t want to run the risk. Instead of grabbing the coffee, I hit it with my hand and knocked the entire contents onto the back seat and all over my phone. I looked back just in time to see it light up one last time, the screen glitching and malfunctioning. Then, it turned to black, dead. 

“Oh, no! Come on, there’s no way.” My lip quivered threateningly, but I took a very deep breath, stopping any tears that might have come. Looking back to the road, I realized I was drifting into the other lane. Without a thought, I swerved, but lost control on the wet road and went straight into the ditch.

My chest slammed into the steering wheel. I sat in the car for a moment, just waiting. I knew there was nothing I could do, and that what’s done is done, but I still waited. Finally, I got out of the car. I was right in front of a small Mexican restaurant called El Michoacano. Maybe I can use their phone, I thought.

When I entered the restaurant, it was almost completely empty. There were three men sitting in the dining room, each at different tables. Two of them looked like gangster types, and one looked like he could possibly be a chef, with his apron. I walked past them and toward the counter. Another man was back in the kitchen, and it looked like he was cooking something but he had stopped when I came in.

The man was tall. His hair was black, with a single streak of silver. He was dressed in the least conspicuous clothing imaginable. A silk button down with some of those pointy leather shoes.

“Excuse me,” I choked, realizing that there were tears falling down my cheeks. He came over and leaned on the counter.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. I just ran my car into the ditch outside. Do you think I could use your phone to call a mechanic or something?”

“It’s just back here, in the kitchen. Here, this way,” he said, leading me into the kitchen. When I got to the phone, it was one of those old fashioned wall-mounted things. As I dialed the number, I turned back to lean on the wall. With a full view of the dining room, I saw the gangster’s heads both whip around so that they weren’t looking at me.

With a tow truck on the way, I sighed and wiped the mascara off my cheeks.

“I’m sorry about your car,” the man said. 

“It’s okay. Nothing I can do now. Thanks for the phone.” 

“Hey, take a seat. I just finished some tacos, you want one?” He asked. 

“Yeah, thanks.” I sat down, and he followed with two plates and sat down across from me.

“Rough day? I get it. Eat your taco, it’s getting cold,” he said gesturing at the food in front of you.

“So much for my interview,” I said, swallowing a bite of the taco. “Sorry, ignore me. I haven’t had such a good couple of days. Oh, my name is y/n, by the way.”

“My name is Eduardo. Did you say you were looking for a job?”

“Yes, why?” I asked, looking up from my food.

“I’m looking for a server. You think you might be up for it?” He got up and went over to the kitchen, coming back with a paper.

“Fill this out, and bring it back to me,” he said, giving me the application.

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Eduardo.”

“Please, call me Lalo.”

“Thank you, Lalo.”

The moment was almost shattered by a contemptuous gaze that one of the men in the dining room was giving Lalo. He pretended like he didn’t see, and continued.

“I think that’s your truck pulling up.”

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

It was sort of a plain dress. Black, short sleeved. The skirt went down maybe halfway to my knee. Of course, a small “El Michoacano” was printed over the breast. I flattened the front of my uniform and checked my bag. Yep, I have everything, I thought. Then, I was out the door, down the street, and at the bus stop. My car was taken to the junkyard when I couldn’t pay for the repairs.

“Hey, you made it,” shouted Lalo from the kitchen over the wafting sound of Mexican music. He tossed a towel over his shoulder on his way over to me and turned down the music slightly.

“You excited?”

His enthusiasm was contagious, and I grinned a smile in response.

“Of course I am.”

“Alright, let’s get to it. That guy over there,” he said, pointing at the middle-aged man sitting at a table in the corner. “He’s the chef around here, and honestly, should be training you. But, he doesn’t speak too much english. So, you’re stuck with me.”

“So what should I start with?” I asked, looking around the dining room. It was empty today, excluding the man in the corner.

“I was thinking we’d take a look in the kitchen, see where things are kept. Then, you and I will have a chat about the rules here. You know, it doesn’t usually get too busy around here, so there isn’t much for you to worry about.”

Lalo walked back into the kitchen and showed me the cupboards. He listed off what they contained, and opened some of them to show me.

“The plates and bowls go here,” he said, opening one of them. “Make sure you stack the little bowls on the little bowls and the big ones on the big ones. Don’t mix them.”

“Okay, got it. And the cups..?”

“-Go right here,” he finished swinging another cupboard open. “I don’t expect you to remember all of this. It’s gonna take some time. Don’t hesitate to ask me a question.” He started toward the door to the dining room, tapping my elbow as he passed to tell me to follow. I complied. On the way out, I looked back at the cupboards and silently quizzed myself. Bowls, plates, cups.

“Have a seat,” Lalo said, gesturing toward a chair. I sat down and looked up at him as he sat across from me. 

“So you really weren’t lying when you said that it doesn’t get busy in here,” I said looking around at the nearly empty dining room. The man in the corner seemed to be completely in his own world as he read a week-old Mexican newspaper.

“Nah, not really. The guys that were in here last week? They’ll be back in…” he checked his watch. “About an hour or so.”

“What, are they regulars or something?” I asked, remembering the odd way they seemed to be together but sat at different tables.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. So, you’ll notice people coming in and out of here a bit. You’ll know what I mean when you see it. There’s not many rules here, but the one you need to remember is this.” he leaned in closer as he continued. “Don’t worry about them. You don’t even need to take their order. Just stay back and leave them alone.”

He said it all in a calm, even tone. His eyes were fixed on mine the whole time, and they didn’t move.

“Who are they?”

“Friends.” The tension in the air as he said those words was so tight you could have cut it with a knife. His expression was so deadly serious, and he had this way of perfectly controlling the emotions of his words as he said them.

 “The tough looking guy sitting in the back yesterday? His name is Nacho. You’ll get to know him eventually, but he’s a little shy. The other one is Domingo. I’m sure he’ll introduce himself when he gets here.” 

Suddenly, Lalo leaned back and broke the tension in half with a smile.

“That’s my little lecture. Bored yet?”

“Not yet.”

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

“Really? You think I don’t talk much?” As I said that, I realized my mouth was sort of dry. “Usually people tell me I’m a chatterbox.”

“I’ll have to see that to believe it,” he laughed. “It’s about noon. You hungry? Another perk of this job. Free food.”

Without even waiting for my affirmation, he was back in the kitchen and the music was turned up again. Determined to make myself useful, I followed.

“Want help?” I called over the music.

He turned around from the tomatoes he was chopping, surprised.

“Yeah, you can do this,” he said, pointing to the chopping board. “There’s some lettuce over there, and the steak will need to be chopped too. I have to cook the meat first, so I’ll give it to you once I’m done.”

I got going, messily dicing the tomatoes. I tried my hardest to make them all at least even shapes and sizes, and I did decently okay for someone who has absolutely to idea what they’re doing. With the blade of the knife, I slid the tomatoes to the side of the board and took up the lettuce. 

Lalo was, to say the least, enthusiastic about his cooking. He was loudly singing along to the music on the radio, and his excitement was spreading to me. Even if I didn’t know the words, I was singing along with him. It was impossible not to.

As Lalo warmed the tortillas on the frying pan, he was passing them to me and I was building the tacos. 

“This is something I need to do again,” I said as we carried the plates out into the dining room.

“I can show you a thing or two about cooking, if you want. Like I said, there’s not a whole lot that needs to be done around here. You’re gonna have a lot of free time.”

The door to El Michoacano swung open, and in walked one of the men I saw yesterday. Lalo walked up to him and clapped him on the back.

“Ocho loco, you remember this girl from last week?” He looked at me and smiled slightly.

“Hi, I’m Domingo,” he said, shaking my hand.

“Y/n,” I responded. Lalo handed him the plate in his hand.

“Here, this is for you, made especially by y/n,” Lalo said with a cheeky smile in my direction.

“Oh come on, I barely helped.”

“Thanks, y/n,” said Domingo, walking over to the table he was sitting at the other day.

“Does he always sit there?” I whispered to Lalo as we sat down at the table closest to the counter.

“Yeah. Remember what I said earlier? About leaving them alone? That goes for Domingo too.”

“So, you want to me to like, ignore him when he comes in?”

He laughed and said “No, nothing like that. Just don’t go up and bother him while he’s working. And don’t eavesdrop. Especially don’t eavesdrop.”

I sat in silence and ate my taco, mulling over what he’d said. ‘Don’t eavesdrop’? What was that supposed to mean? What could Domingo and the other guy, Nacho, was it? What could they be doing that was so secretive?

I jolted my head up when I heard the door swing open again, this time with more force.

“What’s up Nacho,” Domingo greeted the man walking in.

He didn’t even look in my direction. He walked straight to the table he was at last time I saw him and sat down.

“He’s like that,” Lalo whispered to me. “Nachito, come say hi to the new waitress,” he said, raising his tone.

Nacho turned his head toward me and simply said “Hi.” I could tell he already didn’t like me, but I couldn’t tell why. Suddenly, I remembered the look he gave to Lalo when he offered me the application. 

“Why don’t you sweep the kitchen floor? The broom is back there,” he said, waving his hand toward the kitchen but not looking away from Nacho.

I followed his orders, but the strongest sense of suspicion guided me toward the kitchen.

This is when I broke my first rule. I stood as close as I could to the door so I could hear what they were saying. Lalo’s eyes followed me toward the kitchen and watched me carefully before he got up and sat directly next to Nacho and started speaking very quickly and quietly in Spanish.

I risked a look up at the pair, trying to figure out what they were saying from their expressions. Nacho was sitting cross-armed and looking up at Lalo with a quirked eyebrow. Words were exchanged, but the only ones I could pick out were “quieres” and “tienes”, “you want” and “you have” respectively. Unsurprisingly, these were some of the only Spanish words I knew. 

Lalo was leaned forward on the table, his gaze fixated on the man across from him. 

“Compredes?” He said at last. “Understand?”

“Sí, Lalo,” Nacho responded. I leaned my broom against the wall and came back into the dining room. Domingo was just sitting still, staring directly at the wall. He had the look of someone who had just sat through a very uncomfortable conversation. Lalo sighed and patted Nacho rather aggressively on the shoulder. Then I heard tires on the pavement outside, and a giant truck pulled up outside the restaurant.

“Y/N, you can do some stocking in the cupboards. There’s not much work for you out here.” 

I had the distinct impression that this was going to be one of those times in which I should not be eavesdropping. I disappeared into the pantry behind the kitchen and tried to ignore the man walking in as much as possible. 

That was the rest of the day. I hid in the back while men came in and out of the restaurant, from time to time Lalo would ask how I was or what I was getting up to. No customers came in. Not one. The bus ride home felt so much longer than the one there. My mind was racing with ideas as to what could be going on there.  

No matter what I thought of, the same thought kept returning to me. Something dark must be going on, and somehow I had gotten caught up in it. 

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

“Why don’t you sweep the kitchen floor? The broom is back there,” I said. I studied Nacho carefully. Out of my peripheral, I saw her hesitate and then turn around. I turned to watch her leave, double checking to see that she was out of earshot before snapping my head back toward Nacho.

“You know exactly why I hired her,” I hissed softly in Spanish.

“I meant you should hire someone connected, not an outsider! Someone’s daughter or niece. You don’t even know this girl, she could be an FBI agent,” Nacho retorted, wrinkling his nose in distaste. The corners of my lips twitched upward.

“I’ve been following her since she first stepped foot in this building. Believe me, she isn’t FBI. I didn’t choose her at random. The look of pure desperation on her face told me she needed money, fast. She’d do anything for it. She won’t tell, believe me.” Nacho raised an eyebrow at me, a frown forming on his face.

“I’m just saying that you shouldn’t put your trust into someone who you don’t even know. She has no reason to be loyal to us. She could turn at any minute.”

“I have a plan,” I said simply, looking back at the girl. She was staring very decidedly at the floor where she was sweeping.

“What’s that, then?”

“All in good time, Nachito,” I smiled at him. “But now, you must be civil to her. I don’t care if you don’t like her, you must be polite, comprendes?”

Nacho sighed and responded “Sí, Lalo.”

[1986harrington]

DAY FOUR: Halloween Party Smut

“I know, baby, I know, but you gotta be quiet.” He hummed against you. He’d loosened his grip on you a while back to let you move your hips against him more freely, and now his hands were caressing up and down the outside of your legs, almost soothing in comparison to what his mouth was doing between them.

“This is such a cliche, you know that right?” You remarked - more breathily than you'd have liked - from your position on the bathroom sink. With your shorts around your ankles and your top pulled up to expose your bare tits underneath, your fingers curled around the edge of the cold porcelain to hold yourself upright.

Steve looked up at you from where he was on his knees in front of you, your thighs framing his face as if it belonged there.

“Huh?” He asked, eyes glassy, mouth wet and jaw slack.

“This,” You gestured between you both. “Fucking in a bathroom at a party. Bit of a cliche, don’t you think so?”

“I think,” Steve began, hands wrapping behind your knees and tugging you forward slightly until his mouth met the inside of your thigh again, nipping and kissing until you whimpered impatiently. “...that if you can still use fancy words like ‘cliche’ in a sentence right now, I’m not doing this right.”

You laughed softly, one hand leaving the sink to card through his hair, pushing it back so you could see his big, dark eyes properly.

“Oh come on now, Stevie. Don’t sell yourself short like tha- fuck!”

Your teasing was abruptly cut off by a tilt of his head, his tongue finding your clit and you choked back a moan as your head fell back against the wall with a dull thud that you barely felt.

“F-fuck, yesyesyes, that’s it! Right there, baby, right there-God!” You panted as he kept pace, the pressure of his fingertips digging into your thighs spurring you on. Your hand that was still weaved into his hair tugged, hard, and you felt the groan he let out vibrate through your whole body, setting it alight. You clutched him closer, rolling your hips up to meet his movements until you were practically riding his face. His nose nudged at your clit as his tongue delved lower and deeper, and it all felt so fucking good that you couldn’t stop your legs from trembling and your eyes from closing, or the sounds that were spilling from your lips.

“I know, baby, I know, but you gotta be quiet.” He hummed against you. He’d loosened his grip on you a while back to let you move your hips against him more freely, and now his hands were caressing up and down the outside of your legs, almost soothing in comparison to what his mouth was doing between them.

“I can’t, Steve, sh-shit! You know I can’t keep quiet,” It was all but a whine, and if you’d had any presence of mind left you’d have been embarrassed at how pathetic you probably sounded; but his mouth had fucked all sense of shame out of you by now.

You felt him chuckle against you, his smugness confirmed when he flattened his tongue and dragged it up the length of you, sending a bolt of pleasure along your spine that caused you to surge forward.

“Okay, okay, fuck it, you’ve made your point. Get back up here. Please,” You tried to add a hint of sass into your voice, make it sound strong and commanding but honestly, you’d never felt weaker.

Steve rose to his feet, aided by you pulling and tugging him up by his collar. His warm hands landed on the curve of your hips, squeezing as you wrapped your legs around him and pushed your lips up to his impatiently. He leaned down into you, swerving your mouth at the last second to mouth along your jaw instead of kissing you. You groaned in a mix of pleasure and frustration, your hands gripping at his forearms to steady yourself.

“Just get inside me already and stop being such a fucking tease,” You mumbled into the fabric of his polo, inhaling the scent of his cologne that clung to it and mingled with his bodyheat. 

“Me? A tease? Says you, dressed like this.” Steve laughed, kissing back up to your mouth before leaning back slightly to look down at you.

You were very unimaginatively dressed as a Camp Crystal Lake Counselor from Friday the 13th - or had been, until your boyfriend pretty much stripped you out of it. You were wearing a cropped white tee emblazoned with the camp logo across your chest and a tiny pair of red shorts you’d kept from your summer lifeguarding at the pool. Which, ironically enough, was where you had first met Steve.

The look was finished off with a pair of white knee high socks, your favourite beat up white converse and a splattering of fake blood for good measure.

“It’s those damn shorts. They did it for me back then, and fuckin’ hell, you look even better in them now.” He kissed you again, hard. “But sure, I’m the tease.”

You felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, the thought of him remembering you from all those summers ago, which was ridiculous given what he’d just been doing mere minutes ago.

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, suppressing the smile and trying to look as seductive as you could manage as you leaned forward to grip his belt buckle.

“Better let me make it up to you then.”

[rreskk]

Hi ! Hope you're okay ? Could you make a Trevor x Reader, with Reader also scared to be abandoned by Trevor (but never told him). When they were walking around, they lost each other and Reader was really scared that Trevor left her and also too scared to call him.

---A/N: I'm great, thank you for asking. I like this idea very much. Thank you for the suggestion!

DEPARTURE

Word count: 346

Summary: After taking a small walk in a forest with Trevor, you departed quickly and you grew panicked.

TW: None.

Trevor was adventuring throughout the forest as he loosely intertwined fingers with your ones. He winced when the sun broke through the heavy leaves and trees, making him detach from you to shield the light. He had mentioned looking for something before you could even speak. You went to comment until he wasn’t beside you. Your eyes went wide and you spun in circles. Trevor was no where in sight.

“Trevor?” You shouted but heard nothing in response.

You felt overwhelmed and began racing in a random direction, legs shaking and throat throbbing. Your eyes scanned the surroundings in case you saw him, but he was nowhere. Nowhere at all. For a guy who is hard to miss, you cannot find him.

“Trevor?” You lowly choked out as tears threatened to stain your cheeks.

Terrifyingly, you had encountered a busy road. After running for a few minutes, you almost tripped into the motorway but held yourself back, the car just about grazing your stomach and arms. It swerved onto the opposite lane to avoid hitting you, suddenly crashing into a truck as it began catching fire.

You gulped at the scene you had caused.

“There you are!” A voice shouted from behind you.

Trevor jogged throughout the bushes and slivered his arm around your shoulder tightly, unknowing of the accident ahead.

“Don’t run off like that. You scared the livin’ shit outta me.”

Deciding not to mention the crash, you began walking back into the forest and faked a smile.

“I was just looking for you.”

Trevor rolled his eyes, “I was right behind you when you hurried off like a scared cat. Why’d you leave? Sick of me already?”

“Of course not… I was just worried because… I couldn’t find you.”

Sure, it was embarrassing admitting that. Especially when Trevor’s smile glowed brightly. He seemed proud.

“You were worried about me?” He asked.

You nodded.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” He soon remarked, arms protectively enclosing you, “I’d never leave you, even if you were trying to kill me.”

[heartsoulrocknroll]

AEW Dynamite 4/24/24

The Bucks and Okada arrive with their titles. Jack Perry gets out of another car and joins them. 

Trent attacks Orange as he is making his entrance. Trent yells for Chuck. Chuck comes out. Trent says he is sorry that they spent five years hugging this narcissistic prick. Orange was supposed to be their mascot, and somehow he made them his lackeys. They fought for him, and he gave them nothing. Orange is not Chuck's friend. Trent cares about Chuck, is his friend, and loves him. He tells Chuck to do the right thing and give the people what they want. Chuck says he always thought Trent was a piece of shit and goes after him with the mic. Chuck doesn't want to fight Trent in the ring. He wants to fight him in the parking lot!!!!!!!! Nice!!!!!

Trent is doing very good heel work. I don't like Chuck choosing Orange, and I would much prefer united, heel Best Friends vs. Orange. But we'll see how it goes. 

Mox promo. Yippee. He says he is confident, but don't mistake that for underestimating Hobbs. He knows who Hobbs is, and he knows if he makes one mistake, his world could coming crashing down around him. Blah blah blah.

Swerve Strickland vs. Kyle Fletcher (AEW World Championship Eliminator Match) -- Fletcher dropkicks Swerve to the outside. Swerve with a backdrop on the floor and a kick to the face from the apron. Swerve lands a backbreaker and drives an elbow and a knee into Fletcher's on the mat. Fletcher lands a Michinoku driver! Swerve lands a neckbreaker on the apron!!! He goes for the stomp off the top, but lands hard and hurts his foot. Fletcher intercepts a House Call attempt with an ankle lock! Swerve gets to the ropes. Fletcher with some round kicks. They trade rolling elbows! Swerve with an overhand chop to the back!!! Swerve with a big double upkick, a rolling flatliner, and a vertical suplex for two! They both attempt Tombstones and reverse on each repeatedly until Fletcher finally lands one for a two count! Vicious running kick in the corner by Fletcher! Geez! Fletcher gets hung in the ropes and Swerve lands the double stomp off the top for two! Swerve then lands House Call for the pinfall!

Good match overall, but kind of awkward in parts, including Fletcher almost dropping Swerve on a Tombstone attempt. Rating: 3

Thunder Rosa is with Renee. She talks about Deonna getting in her business again at Dynasty. Deonna comes in, and they start yelling at each other. 

Mina Shirakawa vs. Anna Jay -- Mina with elbows to the knee, then picks Anna up and drops her on her knees on the mat, then lands an enziguri off the top for two! Mina with more elbow drops to the knee, then a Figure Four, but Anna gets to the ropes. Anna rakes the eyes and lands a neckbreaker over the middle rope for two, then a snap suplex for two. They trade elbows! Mina gets the best of it with a rolling elbow and a spinning backfist, then lands a knee to the face off the top for two! Anna lands a hook kick and a Gory Bomb two. Mina catches a boot attempt and lands a dragon screw, then locks in another Figure Four, but Anna gets to the ropes! Mina lands a missile dropkick off the top, then an enziguri for two! Mina goes for a reverse DDT, but Anna reverses into the Queenslayer choke. Mina escapes and ties Anna up in nice pinning combo for three! Solid, enjoyable match. Rating: 2.5

Mina and Mariah try to celebrate with champagne, but Anna stops it and tries to attack. Storm comes out to save Mariah. But here comes Serena Deeb!!  She sits on the stage beside Storm's championship, looks at the camera, and says the next time she touches this belt, she will be the champion. Hell yeah!!!! Let's go!!!!!

Stokely and Statlander introduce Willow. Stokely says he didn't like Willow at first. But she was like a fungus the doctor just couldn't cut off. Willow says she didn't like Stokely at first either. Willow says she was here looking for her break in 2020. She was here being announced as All Elite in 2022. Tonight, she is not trying to catch a break, she is not a rookie, she is the face of TBS!! 

Mercedes comes out! Willow says this is the fourth time Mercedes has interrupted her. Mercedes says she came to congratulate Willow, because there will be a new TBS Champion at Double or Nothing. She also came to ask if Willow was the bitch who attacked her in the dark. Willow says even before this attack, she felt like Mercedes had a personal vendetta against her. She asks if Mercedes thinks that she intentionally injured her in New Japan. Mercedes asks if Willow is asking if she blames Willow for almost ending her career and for all the suffering and pain she went through and for taking the thing she loves most away for a whole year? She says Willow doesn't want the truth, Willow wants to feel better about what she did to her. 

Willow says after she beat Mercedes in New Japan, she looked at the title and wondered if she could have beat Mercedes at 100%. She says there is an asterisk next to that win and title. But there is no asterisk next to this. She holds up the TBS Championship. At Double or Nothing, Willow wants Mercedes at 100% to show her that she can beat her and to show her why she is the TBS Champion. Stat grabs Mercedes' arm as she turns to walk away. Mercedes thinks it was Willow and turns around and slaps Willow in the face!! 

Good segment here. Mercedes was much better on the mic here than she has been in recent weeks. 

Matt tells Marvez that TK just agreed to meet with Jack live in the ring tonight. 

Sudden Death Gauntlet Match for Number One Contendership for the AEW International Championship -- Jay White and Dante start. White dumps Dante hard over the ropes. Penta lands a Destroyer over the ropes on Dante. O'Reilly comes in with an arm bar on Dante, Jay tries to break it up with a kick, but O'Reilly catches him with a heel hook. 

Ospreay comes in next. White and Ospreay face off. White takes his fingers to the eyes. White with hard chops in the corner. Ospreay with chops of his own. White rolls outside. Lance Archer comes in, and O'Reilly locks him in a guillotine, but Archer escapes with a suplex. Archer lands a uranage on White on the apron! Komander comes in. Archer tries to powerbomb him off the apron, but Komander reverses into a rana, sending Archer through tables!! Komander then lands a DDT to Ospreay inside for two! White lands a huge uranage on Komander for two! Ospreay reverses a Bladerunner attempt into a Liger Bomb on White for two! 

Lethal comes in with a dropkick to Ospreay and Lethal Injection to Penta! White lands a sleeper suplex on Lethal! O'Reilly lands the axe and smash on Dante, then his signature strike combo on Ospreay! O'Reilly goes for the rebound lariat, Ospreay stops it and hooks the arms, O'Reilly escapes and lands a rolling elbow, Ospreay lands a hook kick, O'Reilly goes for the rebound lariat again but runs right into a Hidden Blade!!! O'Reilly kicks out at two!!! Holy shit, what and exchange! Ospreay thinks about the Tiger Driver 91, but hesitates, and O'Reilly locks in an arm bar! Komander breaks it up with a moonsault off the top to O'Reilly. Komander goes for the pin, but Ospreay lays him out with a Hidden Blade for the pinfall!!!

This was a really fun match. I liked not knowing who would enter next, and the action itself was good throughout. I especially loved the exchanges between White and Ospreay, and O'Reilly and Ospreay. But Ospreay winning is the worst case scenario for me. I cannot watch him pin Roddy. I just can't. I will die. Rating: 3.25 

Jericho promo. He says he is changing the name of the FTW title. Now it means for the world, because he and the people won this title together. He says he was trying to teach Hook that he needs to lose the dead weight like Taz and Shibata. Jericho thanks Hook. He says he told Hook to stay down after two Judas Effects, but Hook did not. Hook forced Jericho to hit him in the face with a baseball bat, so that's on Hook. LMAO. He knows Hook is home thinking about what he has learned, and that is exciting to him. Bill comes out and says he needs the advice of the Learning Tree. He says everybody knows Jericho is the Socrates of wrestling. Bill says he is the best fit for the Learning Tree. Jericho says he will be watching Bill and they will see.

Great work from Jericho here. People can bitch about him all they want. Apparently it's never going to stop Jericho from being an endless well of gold and turning every crowd reaction into a new gimmick. Lmao. He truly can't be stopped. 

Renee is with Callis, Ospreay, and Fletcher. Callis congratulates Ospreay on winning the gauntlet match, but says he only has one note. Ospreay had O'Reilly in position for the Tiger Driver 91, but didn't hit it. Ospreay says he doesn't want to do it anymore after what happened to Danielson at Dynasty. He says that move has got to go, Danielson has had a broken neck. Callis doesn't care if he has had five broken necks. Fletcher interjects and says Ospreay won the match anyway. Callis says tonight is not the night for Fletcher to be talking about winning matches. Oof.

Jon Moxley (c) vs. Powerhouse Hobbs for the IWGP World Heavyweight Championship -- German suplex by Mox, but Hobbs rolls up to his feet. T-bone by Hobbs. Hobbs lands multiple slams on the apron, then just hurls Mox onto the floor, then lands a vertical suplex on the floor. Hobbs blocks a cutter attempt. Mox lands a tope, Hobbs lands hard on his leg. Mox with some terrible looking shots to Hobbs' head in the corner, then a Paradigm Shift for two, then locks in a sleeper. Hobbs goes out, and Mox wins. Wtf. 

This was a fine match, but certainly nothing special with a boring finish. But what more do I expect from a Moxley match? Moxley winning by submission is too much for me. Rating: 3

Takeshita shows up on the ramp after the match, looks at Mox, and gestures around his waist, indicating his intentions to challenge Mox. Nice!!!!!

Renee is backstage with Shibata. Shibata says Jericho called him dead weight, but next week he is going to destroy Jericho in his hometown of Winnipeg and become the new FTW Champion. He better!!!!!! I swear. I cannot watch Jericho pin Shibata. I cannotttttt. Shibata points out that the rhinestones on Renee's shirt make a heart and says that's fun. Lol. 

Schiavone is in the ring, and he introduces Jack Perry. Jack comes out and says tonight, they have business to handle, and he wants to handle it right now, face to face with Tony Khan. Tony comes out. Jack says the first Double or Nothing was almost five years ago, and since then, AEW has gone on to change the world. He and Tony haven't always seen eye to eye, but the only thing he has ever wanted is what is best for AEW. He asks Tony to shake his hand, reinstate him, and let them go on to change the world together. They shake hands. Tony hugs Jack. Jack smiles evilly at the camera over Tony's shoulder. Oh boy, here we go. Jack raises Tony's hand. Jack takes the mic to Tony's gut!!! The Bucks and Okada come out. The Bucks help Tony up just to put him back down with a TK Driver!!!!! Looool, why am I laughing!!!!

Some refs come out to separate them from Tony. As they leave Tony lying in the ring, Matt says, "Thank you Jacksonville, we love you so much." Lmaoooo, I am in tears. Some wrestlers and Tony's dad come out to check on him. The Bucks, Okada, and Jack join hands and raise them in triumph on the stage. The Bucks close the show brilliantly before walking to the back. Nick: "Thanks everybody for coming to the show." Matt: "What a great show!"

That segment rocked. I really like the angle of The Elite taking out Tony Khan to truly cement that they are taking over AEW. It's a good use of a Tony Khan appearance. Jack's evil smile to the camera as he hugged Tony was an awesome moment. Tony taking the TK Driver was soooo funny to me. And the Bucks thanking the crowd for coming and talking about what a great show it was after physically assaulting the boss in front of everyone? Truly hilarious and brilliant.