#like out of the blue decided to make a big bad decision

[rieamena]

“ UBI AMOR, IBI DOLOR ”

nanami kento .

contains: fluff if you're a real lover, angst if you're normal

word count: 1.6k

riea's comments: yk what's so funny guys, that really takuma work i've been talking about for the past few months or so, wypamn, yeah that one, its scrapped lmaooo lets all laugh. oh, that's not funny? oh, okay. anyways, here's something i wrote for it a while back, i hope you like it and THIS is my comeback work okay? NOT my clover. also, special shoutout to the loves of my lives, @mayyhaps and @chericos. i heart yall

you climbed into your car with a shaky exhale, hands gripping the steering wheel as if it might ground you. the engine roared to life under your touch, and you tapped in satoru’s location on the gps with more force than necessary. the route lit up in bright blue, the estimated time mocking you like it somehow knew this night was going to be an ordeal

seriously—what the hell had gotten into kento? of all the people he could’ve called, invited out, confided in… it had to be satoru? and then on top of that, he drank himself nearly unconscious? kento, who once got drunk enough to reenact one of the scenes from his series in shakespearean english, apparently decided tonight was the night to spiral. and with him of all people

the tires hummed as you sped through dimly lit city streets, traffic lights smearing into streaks of red and green through your windshield. the night air hung heavy, pressing in through the crack in your window as you took sharp turns, your mind racing faster than your car. your jaw clenched with every block. if this was some elaborate setup for satoru to make you watch a 40-minute powerpoint-slash-conspiracy video titled " nanami kento is NOT the man you think he is", you were going to walk on the road and pray a car hits you

your phone pinged with a message just as you pulled into the curb:

satoru (sent 2 mins ago):

we're at bar ten. he's been talking about u for like 30 minutes straight and it's getting EMBARRASSING. pls hurry before he recites poetry

satoru (sent just now):

update: he just called your laugh "unfairly pretty" and now he's talking to a bottle of gin

you turned off the engine, sighing again

bar ten had that kind of music that never committed to a real genre. the bass was soft, almost pretending it wasn't there, and the conversations floated over it like bubbles waiting to pop. you scanned the room and spotted them quickly—suguru sitting in a booth with satoru clinging onto him comfortably, hands running through the others hair. kento was slouched across from them with his head tipped back, glasses discarded on the table before him and eyes fixed on the ceiling like it held the correct answer to every bad decision he'd ever made

you approached slowly. suguru caught sight of you first, raising a brow and gesturing toward the table like, please deal with this

"kento?" you called softly, sliding into the seat next to him. it took a few shakes of his shoulder for him to realize someone else was there—you were there. you've only seen him get this drunk once before: a random night a few years ago. somehow the idea of a drinking competition filled the air and every bottle known to man was scattered across kento's kitchen island. little did he know, you had switched out your alcoholic beverages for water, but he was too dazed to realize. so while he drank and drank, you watched on

big, strong arms (though it seemed a considerable amount of their strength was gone) enveloped your frame, "my wife!"

it was a nickname he hadn't used since you were kids. "i want to be your husband when we're older! and you will be my wife! if you want to, of course…" a five-year-old kento said to you bashfully on a spring day at the park, weeds that he thought were flowers clenched in his outstretched fist. the name kept up for a couple of years but you never knew the reason why he stopped

"my wife is here! oh, how i've missed you." his speech was slurred, a result of downing a few bottles of whiskey, rum, and gin—it's a miracle that he's still conscious. his grip got even tighter on you as he burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, "ken?... ken? let's go home." feeling his head shift up and down and his soft breaths on your neck, you gathered all of your strength and lifted off the seat, managing to get him all the way to your car and relaxed in the front seat

by the time you pulled into your building's garage, the city had gone still. not quiet, but softer. as if everything outside had agreed to pause, just for a while. kento didn't ask which floor, didn't ask where to put his shoes, didn't hesitate before settling on the couch like it was his apartment

because it basically was. he'd been coming over since the two of you were kids—after school, after breakups, after shitty college nights where neither of you wanted to talk about what went wrong. this place had always been an anchor. and you never questioned letting him in

you poured a glass of water, eyeing him from the kitchen. "suguru's a menace," he slurred, ridding himself of his blazer and tie with a grunt. "and satoru's louder now than he was at sixteen, how is that possible?"

you cracked a smile, setting the glass on the coffee table. "i ask myself that every time i see him."

kento chuckled—a real one. then it twisted into something sadder. "they're good, though. together, i mean. they make sense. like puzzle pieces. even the jagged parts."

you sat beside him, not too close, but close enough to provide comfort—provide something. he seemed to be sobering up a little bit—after all, alcohol never stayed in his system for long. his eyes shut closed, like he was dissociating but he could feel everything: the cool air from the slightly open window, the fabric of his pants and collared shirt uncomfortably brushing against his skin like it wasn't supposed to do that, the flurry of words dedicated to you that might be impossible to string together even if given the chance, words that were accumulated over years of watching, waiting.

"i loved you before i even knew what that meant," he whispered. "i used to count how many times you said my name in a day. like an idiot."

"you remember that one summer," he continued, "when your ac broke and we just laid on the floor with popsicles all day? you were wearing that stupid tank top with the cartoon frogs."

you smiled, aching. "i remember."

"i couldn't even look at you without getting lightheaded."

he paused, "still can't."

he finally opened his eyes. they were glassy but clear enough to look right at you. right through you.

"i tried to date other people. i tried to un-feel it. but it's you. it's always been you."

you reached out, brushed your fingers against his hand. he caught them. he always did.

"i'm drunk," he said, voice cracking, "and this is unfair to you. but if i don't say it now, i never will."

the room fell silent for a while, heavy with the words spoken and those that didn't need to be. you'd thought kento had dozed off, the exhaustion and alcohol mixing,

but then softly—so softly it could've been mistaken for a sigh—he said:

"you looked too good in white."

you glanced down. his head was on your shoulder, but his eyes were open now, staring at nothing. he swallowed thickly, voice lower. "i told myself i could handle it. that it was just a shoot. just a fake wedding. but then you kissed me in that last shot—like it meant something—and i… i lost."

that shoot was for suguru's moonlight wine collection. you and kento were styled in wedding attire, with matching rings, a high-end ballroom, and a script that called for authentic intimacy. you didn't have to dig far, and it seems… neither did he.

kento pulled away slightly to sit up, rubbing his face. someone unfamiliar with him wouldn't have noticed, but you're his best friend, the one he loves. of course you noticed the slight change in his mannerisms, how he trembled, and how his khakis turned color when he stared downwards. and all it took was a comforting rub on his back to break the dam that was kento's bottled up emotions. he choked on his sobs—fighting everything possible to keep it together, to not completely break down.

"i've been in love with you for most of my life," he said hoarsely, tears streaming down his face but he never made an attempt to wipe them away. like it was his sin, his punishment, something he deserved for keeping it in for this long. "and then i had to stand under that damn arbor, with cameras on us, and look at you like you were mine… when you never were."

the memory flashed—your hand in his, his thumb tracing your knuckles between posing directions like it was muscle memory. the way his eyes never left you, even after the photographer called for a break. kento exhaled. "and i know you've got… everything. people who adore you. a world that spins with you at its center. but for one second that day, i let myself pretend."

"and then," he continued, almost laughing now, "the articles dropped. 'the most believable love story of the season,' they said. 'if you told us they were secretly together, we'd believe it.' and i thought, god, if only they knew how much i wished it were true."

kento has never experienced a first love or a first love. all he knows is a first love, and he's lost her.

for i am a fool, bound by the shackles of unrequited love.

jjk taglist

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@ozdramaqueen @nymphsdomain @beeksyurr @colorcode @baekhyunsbestie

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[supercool-here]

Reeeally sad for Shane and Ryan. I like their content so much, admire their work, I wish this new streaming platform thing would work for their sakes, but it doesn´t seem like it and I get why. IF anyone at watcher ever reads this, I´m sorry you digged a grave you didn´t need

[pixiepipedreams]

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — distant flickerings, greener scenery // in-ho x reader

♡  ⁄  pairing: in-ho x reader, hints of gi-hun x reader ♡  ⁄  warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s) ♡  ⁄ wordcount: 4.2k ♡  ⁄ summary: after losing your mom at 18, you move to south korea with your father for a fresh start. he incurs a lot of debt, and on the verge of losing your student visa, you enter the squid game. quickly adhering to gi-hun's group to increase your chance of survival, you gain the attention of the strange player 001... THIS IS PART ONE OF A SERIES!! (➋) (➌) (➍)

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Life is a series of bad decisions and dead-ends.

It's something you've tried not to believe, but your mother's misery had been infused into your bones, the code of your very being. Every day, you tried to bring more light to the world, to love even the little things - to love those little things even more, just for existing. Every shifting cloud in the sky, every gentle breeze, every moment has joy if you know where to look. As much as you love your mother, she only saw the worst in life. When she died, you were only 18, but it gave you a sense of freedom. You applied for a student visa to South Korea, wanting to live somewhere that would remind you the least of what you've lost. Your father moved with you, and things were okay, for a few years.

On the brink of losing your visa, and finding out your father has incurred a huge debt, you felt like you were running out of choices. Until a handsome man in the subways gave you an opportunity. You didn't know the game very well, but you managed to win a few rounds of ddakji, well worth the harsh slaps you received for losing even more. When he gave you a business card, a chance to earn more money, dig yourself out of the pit that threatened to swallow you whole... you hesitated.

Then your father got hospitalized. You couldn't take on his debt alone, let alone cover his hospital fees. So you called him. When you awake in a strange place, the number 132 written on a green tracksuit you don't remember putting on, you get the sinking feeling that you made the wrong choice.

Your mother's voice rings through your head when the first game starts, and player 456 shouts to everyone that these games could cost your life. He sounded insane, but the bundle of dread in your stomach was impossible to ignore. You believed him.

And then the first person died.

You were one of the first to make it past the finish line, ushering as many people as you could through. It wasn't enough. You have to tear your eyes away from the bloody bodies littering the field, feeling sick. But at least there's the sky, above you. Blue and bright and beautiful, like hope itself. The wind moving the sparse clouds makes you feel both small and big, like maybe you could make it. You're only in your early 20s, you still have so much life to live.

The vote gets announced in the dormitories, and when it's your turn at the button, you have no clue what the correct path is. Player 044's words play in your mind - The time and place of each one of your deaths was decided from the instant you were born. There's no changing it now. No matter how hard you try to fight it, you'll never be able to escape your fate. Your hand hovers, then you press 'O'. One more game.

The final player votes the same way as you, ensuring that everyone will play again. The 'X's are groaning, distraught, but some of them have the same fatalistic hope in their eyes that mirror your own. Your eyes find 456, noting his deep disappointment, almost to the point of despair. You feel a hint of guilt, but you know you're one of 183 people who voted the same. It would've been easier to assuage that guilt, though, if it wasn't such a close vote. Just one person could have changed the tides, shifted fate...

You feel compelled to approach him, but you're not the only one. You end up to the right behind player 001, the last person who voted. "You're the reason I ended up voting to stay. It's true. After the first game, I thought I was going to quit. And then I saw you, and I thought, 'One more game. Then I can go.'"

You freeze. Hadn't you thought nearly the same thing? Your mind buzzes, looking at the side profile of 001. He's older than you, like most of the people here, and you get struck by the feeling that you're too young to have ended up in a place like this. But if it wasn't you, maybe that recruiter would have found your father.

Maybe that was his initial plan, until your dad ended up in the hospital.

They're talking about the next game, how 456 played something called Honeycomb last time. The players in the crowd around the previous champion murmur in excitement at having a better chance in the next game. "It probably won't be the same game," you say quietly, almost to yourself. But everyone around you grows quiet, looking at you. You glance from 001 to 456, realizing everyone is waiting for you to continue. You clear your throat. "There's plenty of children's games, are there not? I'm sure they change it every time. They probably only keep Red Light, Green Light because it's easy, universal. It's the perfect way to introduce the true nature of these games. But everything else is probably different."

There's a murmur of agreement, but your eyes stay on 456. There's a hardness to his expression that doesn't match the deep smile lines that have formed over his life. He doesn't look surprised by the idea you'd presented. He must think the same thing, himself.

"You're American, aren't you?" 001 asks, drawing your eyes to him. Something about his gaze is intense, pinning you in place. You swallow, nodding, your spine straightening on instinct. You've been in South Korea for long enough to know their customs, and you know that those older than you are due a certain amount of respect. It's better to overdo it than do too little.

"That's right, sir. I'm here on a student visa," you say, ducking your head slightly, then meet his eyes again. His expression doesn't change, but somehow, you feel like he's looking at you differently. Sharper, somehow. Like he's taking you apart, piece by piece.

What the hell?

In-ho's quiet, for a long moment, but it's not because he has nothing to say. He has too much he wants to say - that you're too young to be in a place like this, that you must be at a disadvantage in this series of Korean children's games, that you're sharp in guessing that the next game will be different. He designed these games, he knows you're right. None of that should matter to him. He's here on a mission, to challenge Gi-hun at every turn, make him rethink his view of the world. Player 132 - he's sure if he thought long enough, he would remember your name, although he'd long since stopped memorizing every name in the files of players that cross his desk. But your eyes hold his in a way that tugs at him, makes him feel something different. He hasn't felt something new in years, not since his wife passed while he was in the games.

"You have a good point," he says with a slight nod. "Still, I hope you're wrong. It'd be nice, to have an advantage."

He finally breaks your gaze, and it feels like your insides have all been flipped around and turned over, like he'd looked over everything that makes you you. You look at the ground as he continues talking to 456. Eventually, the other players disperse, disappointed by what 456 had to say. You linger, though, leaning against the pole of a nearby bunk bed.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question? Why are you here? Why'd you come back again? You said you won the game, made it out. And that would mean you won 45.6 billion won. Did you spend all of it already?" 001 asks, eyes searching 456's expression.

"Did you start betting again?" 456's friend, 390, pipes up.

"That money doesn't belong to me. The ones who died in this place, that's their blood money. And the same goes for everything in there now," 456 says, his expression intense, like he's lived through years and years of this torture instead of 6 days. But that's what PTSD is, isn't it? The trauma persists past the actual event.

You frown, crossing your arms. That's a horrible way to think about it. Those people are already dead, aren't they? It's worse to not spend the money, after all that blood was spilled for it.

"What point is there in thinking about it like that?" 001 points out, surprising you again. "After all, it's not like you killed anyone yourself. And that way of thinking won't help bring any of them back to life."

"If you don't use that money, make a better life for yourself, it's a dishonor to their memory," you say quietly. "It's like they died for nothing."

456 stares at you like he's just been slapped. But 001... he looks at you with a hint of approval, and something else. Something like interest... or fascination. "If even one of you two had pressed 'O' like I told you to, we all could've left here alive!" 456 says harshly, a pot boiling over. "You could've saved everybody!"

"True. I was the last player to press 'O,'" 001 says quietly, drawing 456's attention and ire. "It wasn't just me, though. There's 182 other people who wanted to stay here."

"Yeah, and 182 more of them who wanted to get the hell out of this place!" 456 shoots back.

"If I hadn't pressed 'O'… If I'd hit 'X' and we'd all gone home, you think they'd appreciate what I'd done? If one of these people ran into me, years from now, do you think they'd say they were happy I voted to go? That they ended up with a great life after all?" 456 falls silent, watching him like he's remembering something.

Silently, you agree with 001. You're all here because you're in dire straits, and the winnings from the first game wouldn't have been enough to make a dent in most people's debt.

The conversation continues, and when Dae-ho approaches and introduces himself, you lay down on a nearby bed, lost in thought.

Time passes - you're not sure how much, with no clocks or sun to go by. The scenery of the large dormitories isn't appealing, and doesn't have anything you'd normally focus on to remind yourself of the little joys of life, so you resort to people-watching. The mother and her son, in quiet discussion, a small group talking and laughing about nothing in particular, the annoying guy with the purple hair...

You sit up, eyes going wide as you watch him throw a punch at the MG Coin guy. The scuffle goes on, and you get to your feet, having half a mind to step in and tell them to stop being idiots, but then player 001 is approaching them.

"Hey, kids. What makes you think you can behave like that? Especially while people are eating. And in front of your elders too. It's bad manners, not to mention it's two against one. Shame on you guys." Your eyes are glued to 001, the restrained power in his stance. You can't see his face, but you can picture it - that calm, cold expression, the intensity in his eyes. You know there's more to him than meets the eye, but you can't put a finger on it.

"You're in here just like everyone else. So cut the lecture… Grandad. How about instead of yip-yapping at me, you go back home to your own kids, you yell at them?" the purple-haired guy - Thanos, if you remember right - makes a talking hand gesture at 001, and you find yourself holding your breath.

"What did you say?" 001 replies coldly, but there's a hint of fire beneath it.

"I said, save the lecture for your own kids!" Thanos laughs, but is cut off by 001 putting a hand on the nape of his neck. "Hey, get your fuckin--"

He's cut off by a cry of pain as 001 does something with his grip that makes him fall to his knees. You watch as he takes down the two guys like it's nothing, barely breaking a sweat, and a cold chill runs down your spine even as you feel an electric tingle over your skin. Who is he? There it is again, that hint to something more, some large piece of the puzzle of his character that you're missing. It's compelling, but there's also a hint of danger. You make a mental note not to get on his bad side.

Your mind swirls as everything settles down again, and before it's time to turn the lights out, you walk over to 456, sitting down on a step next to him.

"You've really played these games before?" you ask after a moment of silence, glancing at him. You can feel the rift between you two, the 'O' on your chest and the 'X' on his. 456 is quiet for a moment, then nods. "Why would you come back, then? I know you said you didn't want to spend the money... so you don't need more. There must be a reason."

456 sighs. "These games change you. I can't imagine living a normal life, after everything I went through here... I tried. But I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't try to prevent these games from continuing."

It's your turn to fall silent. "Stopping the games doesn't change much, at the end of the day. Some of these people's debts are so bad that they've waived their bodily rights. At least here, they have a chance to try and pay it off, make an honest life for themselves," you say finally, your voice gentle.

456 looks back at you with a complicated expression. "I know. When I joined these games the first time, I'd done the very same thing."

You stare at him, eyes searching his face. There's traces of a happier man in the sorrow with which he holds himself. The smile lines, the crinkles by his eyes. Winning these games only made him miserable. They changed who he was. You can read it, plain as a book, the man he used to be. "Getting rid of these games doesn't change the way the world works. With that kind of money... the money you won, you could actually try to change things in the real world. So nobody would be desperate enough to end up in a place like this." You shrug. "But maybe that's impossible, too. I hope you do, though. Change things. That's a cause I can get behind."

You stare at each other, like you're coming to a quiet understanding. He nods a little, his lips still a permanent frown. You wonder what his smile used to look like, what his laugh sounded like.

You wonder if winning these games would turn you as miserable, as haunted, as he is now. "(Y/N)," you say quietly. He just blinks. "My name. I want to fight by your side. I think... remembering that we're human is an important step."

There's a flicker of something in his expression, and you can almost see the smile that haunts his face, the joy of a more innocent man. He nods softly. "Gi-hun," he replies, his shoulders loosening slightly. It's a start.

"Gi-hun," you reply, smiling at him. "Try to sleep tonight. We'll all need our strength tomorrow."

You leave the sad man to his ghosts and his thoughts, taking a bed on a higher level, feeling safer with some distance between you and the rest of the players. When the lights go out, you curl up under the thin blanket. There's enough people in the dormitory that it's not cold, but you're not exactly warm either. You manage to fall asleep, but it's light, restless, and you wake up after only an hour at most. You stare up at the ceiling, then turn on your side, counting the tiles on the wall. There's black shapes in the tiles that you can't entirely make out, images that are indecipherable with so many beds in the way.

There's the sound of shoes on metal behind you, and you turn on the bed, looking up to see player 001 standing above you. There's something in his eyes, almost like he'd just been... crying? It doesn't make sense, but neither does a lot of things about him.

"001," you say quietly, relaxing the shoulders you hadn't realized were tense. "Can't sleep?"

He hesitates, then takes a seat on the step by your head, clasping his hands. "Haven't tried, yet. I don't sleep well, anyways."

You nod, stretching your legs under the covers, and sit up, facing him. "Yeah. I fell asleep, but it didn't last. My dad always says I got my insomnia from him," you say with a small laugh. It feels weird, to laugh in a place like this, but it comes naturally to you. Trying to lighten the mood, to find little spots of light in the darkness. Fireflies in the night.

001 gives a small smile, a little crinkle of the eyes revealing that it's a genuine one. "Are you close with your father?" he asks, tilting his head. Curious. You hesitate, then shrug.

"Everyone growing up said I looked just like him. I used to have his attitude problem. Still do, sometimes," you say, brushing your hair behind both ears. "I moved here, to South Korea, with him. But... no, I'm not really close with him anymore." And yet, you came here for him - for his debts, to take care of his hospital bills. You'll always love him, despite the fact that his own actions sent you here, to this hell. He should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. You can feel the injustice, the anger that secretly simmers under the surface, but you take a deep breath, smiling at him.

The man just stares at you, his often emotionless eyes studying you, like he wants to pick apart your mind. "And your mother?"

Emotion threatens to overtake you, a lump in your chest forming, and you swallow, looking away. It feels like a lot, to share with this relative stranger. It's been a few years since your mother passed, but it feels like longer. At the same time, it feels like she could call you at any moment. The silence grows, and he finally murmurs, "I see." You stare out at the room, feeling miles away. Relationships with parents is always complicated, and before she passed, it wasn't perfect between you two. But you'd do anything to have her back. "I only ask because... well. You're just so young. You really shouldn't be here."

You bristle, slightly, though you know he's right. "We all have our reasons," you mutter. You can't blame your father, entirely - although, if he hadn't acquired a pile of debt, he would be able to help you keep your student visa.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to strike a nerve," 001 says gently. "I'm worried, that's all."

You huff a breath, hands fidgeting to pop your fingers. "Thank you for your concern, sir, but I chose to be here, didn't I?" The 'O' on both of our chests is evidence of that.

"Young-il," he says after a beat. "You don't have to call me sir. We're all equals here." You finally look back at him, surprised that he offered up his name. Another piece to the puzzle. "I'm surprised you voted to stay. You're American, you probably won't know most of the games."

You smile humorlessly, shaking your head slightly. "They explain the rules for each one, don't they? And... well, I think I only need one more game to have enough. It won't cover everything, but... it'll get me far enough." You try to believe it. You don't know if you have the stomach to play more than one game. "I'm (Y/N). By the way." A sign of peace, a quiet alliance. Just like with Gi-hun earlier, it eases the air between you.

Another moment of quiet, the only sound the quiet breathing and snores of the hundreds of players in the room. "(Y/N)," he says softly, almost to himself. "Well, you have me, too. I'll help you, if there's a confusing one."

You eye him curiously, then smile, a warm, gentle thing. He doesn't take his eyes off of you, smiling back. Like Gi-hun, he looks like someone who hasn't smiled in years, but more like... he's forgotten how. It warms you to him.

"Thank you. Young-il," you say, reaching over to squeeze his arm. He looks taken aback, surprised, but his smile deepens, settling somewhere in his irises.

You take your hand back, fidgeting with the blanket. "So... what do you do for fun? When you're not playing children's games," you say, a hint of humor in your tone as you try to keep the mood light.

It works - he gives a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "Me? I read... enjoy art. I feel like I don't have a lot of fun these days, though," he says, his tone almost contemplative. Like he hadn't even considered fun in a long time. "And what about you?"

You hum softly, fingers dancing in a pattern as they tap the bed beside you. "I like dancing, and music. I read a lot - fiction, mostly. I do enough learning in university." You list off a couple more things, the silly things you do to occupy your day. "If it's a bad day, I usually take a walk in the park. Try to remember the little things that fill the world with joy."

His expression grows warmer, almost soft with each thing you say. "That sounds lovely," he murmurs, his expression almost wistful. He's hard to read, his expression so detached when he's not smiling, but he seems almost open now. Almost. "And dancing, huh? I'll admit, I haven't danced in a long time. I was never any good at it." He gives a wry chuckle, but you grin, eyes twinkling.

"It's better when you're no good at it. Just as long as you don't let yourself get embarrassed. It's good, to move your body, to just feel." You wonder if you'll ever dance again like that - carefree, uncaring about what anyone thought. "I'm surprised, by the way, that you didn't say you take martial arts classes. That move you pulled earlier, with Thanos... it was impressive, skilled." Your tone is nonchalant, but you analyze him for any possible reaction. Wanting to understand him.

He doesn't give one. "I've taken some. For self-defense, mostly. But not really for fun. I know what you mean, about moving your body. That's what fighting was, for me. But it'd be nice to move in a less... restrained way."

It's an almost disarming answer, and it makes something in you soften. You almost offer to dance with him, when you get out of here, but then you remember that he must be a couple decades older than you. You smile though. "You should try it sometime."

You chat for a little longer, but you can feel a weariness settle inside you, now that you're more relaxed. Something about his company is comforting, familiar. It almost makes you forget where you are. It's only when you notice a matching exhaustion in his eyes that you say something.

"You need to get some rest," you say softly.

"So do you," he points out, eyes tracing over your face once before reaching your eyes again. "You only got a little bit."

You hesitate. You do feel tired again, but the moment you're alone, you know that racing thoughts will prevent you from succumbing to your body's needs. "Would you sit with me?" you blurt out, then feel embarrassed. But it's too late to take it back. "Just... until I fall asleep. It's easier, with someone else here."

You have no reason to trust In-ho so quickly. The bonds formed in these games are as concrete as they are breakable, he knows this. He can tell, already, how full of life you are, and he has to fight to keep the thought away - she shouldn't be here. You were right, everyone chose to be here, including you. You voted to stay. But something in him does care, as much as he doesn't want to. And, very quickly, he finds himself wanting to save you, keep you alive. Keep you by his side. Your request only fuels that ember inside him, stoking it, and soon a flame will be coaxed. He has had nothing to want to protect in so long, so many years, and it dismantles him. Makes him feel like the man he once was, the man he's pretending to be.

"Okay," Young-il says quietly, giving her a soft smile, scooting closer to her on the step he's sitting on. You lay down again, on your side, facing him. On impulse you reach out, placing a hand on his wrist. He hesitates, then rests his hand on the bed, letting you curl our hand around his jacketed wrist.

You ignore the strange feeling in your chest, letting your eyes slip shut, relaxing fully for the first time since you got here. "Thank you," you murmur, and you can already feel the fuzz of sleep creeping up on you. His hand slides into your hair, gently massaging your scalp, and it might be the best thing you've ever felt.

It doesn't take long. And this time, your rest is peaceful.

[gothicfied]

a fic where Dae-Ho (or anyone) comforts a reader to bed because she/he is haunted by seeing people getting shot, blood and etc. Pretty please?🥺 He also is on watch during lights out and comforts them again while noticing them having reoccurring nightmares and mumbling in their sleep. You could also turn this the other way around because my boy Dae-Ho needs some comfort too! 😖

love your fics and past work btw!! ^^

Sleepless Nights - Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x Reader

Summary: After past trauma from being a marine, Dae-ho isn't handling the circumstances of the games well. Thankfully, you're there when he needed you the most.

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, gunshots, PTSD (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's fluff/comfort, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word count: 812 Words

A/N: hii and thank you sm! I loved this idea actually🙏🙏

Your eyes hurt from staying up so long, counting down the seconds until it was Dae-ho's turn to be on watch. The night was grueling and long — all you could do was stare ahead and think about all the past decisions that led you here. I shouldn't have done this, I could've done that.. you were just breaking your mind like that. After you almost nodded to sleep *again*, you decided this was the best time to wake your friend up and get some well deserved rest.

Quietly, you shuffled to the mattresses Gi-hun had your group set up, searching for Dae-ho in the dark. When you spotted his jacket from behind, the number '388' still readable with little to no light, you went to tap him on the shoulder. That was before you noticed him jolting and breathing quite heavily in his sleep, his face contorted with something like fear. Oh, he was having a nightmare. What are you supposed to do now? Wake him up to free him from his dream? Or should you just leave him be? Would that be bad?

While you were slightly panicking, Dae-ho woke up himself from feeling someone looming over him. His eyes immediately darted to you and he quickly sat up, like he was ready to fight you. "Hey.. hey, it's okay! It's me." you whispered, backing up a bit to give him some space. Dae-ho blinked a couple of times, his mind still reeling with the thoughts of his nightmare. The one that was reoccurring ever since he got here. The man took a deep breath and dropped his head down for a moment, just staring at his lap. "Are.. you okay? Did you have a nightmare?"

Dae-ho simply nodded and smiled, trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal. "Yeah, don't worry about me. This happens.. all the time." The shakiness of his voice suggested otherwise. "Is it my time to be on watch?" With a confused, and slightly concerned, look you slowly nodded shifting a bit. Dae-ho slowly stood up, as not to disturb Jun-hee who was sleeping right beside him, and took another deep breath. "Are you actually okay? You seem really shaken up. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Dae-ho smiled again, this time genuinely, silently appreciating your concern. "No.. no, I don't want to bother you. You need to sleep, come on." He pointed down at the mattress, signaling for you to just lay down and let him handle his own business. That's how he always did it anyway, he didn't like to feel like his problems were burdening others, especially in here. "No, don't be ridiculous. I'll sit down with you for a second." So, you just took Dae-ho's hand and led him to the designated spot a bit further away from your sleeping space. The blue 'O' and the red 'X' on the floor illuminated the whole area, the light of both reflecting on his face.

"I've had this nightmare since I got here." Dae-ho started the conversation again, his eyes glued to the big metal door, where the pink guards would always emerge from. "This whole thing.. people getting shot, people dying all because they're in debt," his voice was barely above a whisper, "it's so messed up. I'm a marine.. I should be- Oh, I don't know. It reminds me of all the things I had to facd while serving this country." You nodded along, letting out a 'mhm' to show him you were listening. You didn't really think about it that way at all — Of course this would affect him so much, he probably had PTSD.

"I can't say that I know what that feels like, but I definitely understand." you whispered back, slowly turning your head to look at him. You felt really bad, but you also didn't know how to better the situation. All you could do is wish that this nightmare would soon end with everyone finally coming to their senses and voting 'X'. Dae-ho scrunched his nose, now burying his face in his hands. You couldn't tell if he was crying or was still shaken up, but you put your arm around him nonetheless. Like he always did with you when you were scared or stressed.

Feeling your arm around him, Dae-ho took this as an invitation and immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "Thank you for being here with me." he mumbled into your shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Your expression softened, hugging him back after a few moments. His skin felt hot against yours and it kind of felt like he was suffocating you with his arms, but you couldn't be happier when Dae-ho expressed his gratitude.

"Of course. I'll stay up with you for a little bit longer, okay?"

[potofsoup]

Happy July 4th, everyone, and good luck to the UK voters out there!

Wow it's Year 11 of doing these!! Here's the AO3 link to the past 10 years, and here's the tumblr link.

Reminder that this is a long game -- some of the judges making decisions were appointed back in the 80s. Many of the cases that were decided this round were from Trump's term. So it's going to take long-term, consistent voting over a decade to start tipping things in the other direction. (Which I talked about in 2018 re: Trump shenanigans and 2022 re: Dobbs).

A lot has been done by the Biden administration (I'm assuming most folks have seen this post by boreal-sea with their very helpful sources), and much of that will be overturned by Trump, especially if he gets the Senate, and especially now that he would have a blank check for anything "official". So let's make sure that doesn't happen.

And even if Trump does get elected, your decisions down-ballot might effect control of the House or Senate, or might make it easier to vote next time, plus the whole plethora of state and local issues. It's Republican state attorney generals who are challenging climate regulations, for example.

Plus, when you really get down to it, only one of the candidates plans on pardoning himself and all his friends if he wins, and attacking the government if he loses. Maybe that guy shouldn't be the President.

If you're new to voting, remember to check voter registration deadlines! I'm a permanent vote-by-mail voter and it's so nice. :)

Transcript under the readmore

Page 1: Sam and Bucky meet up with Steve for a picnic. Steve: Thought you guys were still in Sudan? Bucky: I’m forcing Sam to take a break.

Sam collapses onto the picnic blanket. Sam: Oof, it just never stops, does it? Steve: Nope.

Bucky hands Sam an orange popsicle. Bucky: Eat and relax for a bit, Sam. Sam: Thanks.

Page 2: Bucky asks Steve: How are things state-side? Steve responds: HORRIBLE. Bucky: I thought you’ve been tentatively hopeful about what Biden has been able to achieve? Steve: I was! Student loans, child care, climate regulations, infrastructure, labor, trans rights … he’s quietly done a lot through regulatory improvements and congress bills. But now all people will talk about is how he’s OLD. And then there’s the Supreme Court’s decisions … Chevron and immunity… Steve puts his head in his hands, while Sam and Bucky look on with some concern.

Page 3: Bucky hands Steve a blue/raspberry popsicle: Steve, take a deep breath, and a popsicle. Sam: Sounds like we missed a lot. What’s going on? How bad is it? Steve: Pretty bad. The Supreme Court has made some decisions that give the Court and the President A LOT of discretionary power. Sam: Yikes, that doesn’t sound good. Steve: Well, the Chevron thing means that judges with life-term appointments can override policies made by government agencies. And now it’ll be harder to hold a President accountable because he will have immunity for any “official” actions.

Page 4: Sam: So if the President tries to, say, overturn a democratic election result, he’ll be allowed to as long as it’s in his job description? Steve: I don’t think threatening state electors is “official” business, but that will be decided by federal judges. Who get their jobs by approval from both the President and the Senate. Bucky: Yeesh. No wonder you’re stressed. Any good news? Steve: Well, thanks the Biden and the razor-thin Senate majority, the newer bills don’t rely on the Chevron deference. Still not great but not catastrophic. Sam, squirting ketchup on his hot dog: So what I’m hearing is that it’s now more important than ever to have a President and a Senate who you can trust to appoint fair judges, pass bills, and not commit crimes.

Page 5: Steve: Plus all of the state level offices, now that more and more deciding power has been thrown back to the states — abortion, LGBTQ rights, voting access… Bucky: Hey, at least this is a big election year so we can actually do something! Steve, with his arms crossed, looking surly: Except that all people want to talk about is how Biden is “too old” and “not doing enough,” as if that is on par with Trump’s desire to dismantle basic rights! As if the candidate who doesn’t embody ALL their ideals is not worth voting for! Bucky interrupts with a smart and a loud “PFFT.”

Page 6: Bucky: Um, Steve. YOU were like that in 1940. Sam, nudging Bucky: “Oh, this I gotta hear. Spill, Barnes.” In sepia, Steve is pacing around their apartment while Bucky is sitting and reading a newspaper. Steve: I can’t believe he’s running for a 3rd term! we need a fresh candidate to vote for! This is hardly a choice at all! AND he refuses to engage in Europe! All of Europe under fascist control and we’re just twiddling our thumbs? He’s letting millions die through his inaction! Bucky: Most people don’t want another war, Steve. If he came out for it, he would lose. Steve, indignant: But Buck, it’s your Polish relative who are in danger! Bucky, closing his newspaper and looking at Steve: Yeah, and between FDR and Willkes, I trust FDR to help if he could.

Page 7: Steve, in sepia, looking away: Should he be encouraged to do more? Maybe I should vote for Browder. The Communists have historically be Anti-Fascist.

Sam interrupts off-screen: Waitaminute! STEVE was going to PROTEST-VOTE? Steve: We were in a Blue State, Sam! Sam: But what about the down ballot races?! Steve: RELAX, I did my due diligence down-ballot. I wanted a senate that’s more progressive than the President.Voted LaGuardia for Mayor, too. Steve hesitates: Then, when I got to the President… I realized that the Best case scenario would be that my vote did nothing, versus if it actually spoiled the election. And when I asked myself who I could trust to work with my Senator… well, FDR had a good record with Labor. (sepia shot of young Steve voting) Bucky interrupts: Hold on, Steve.

Page 8: Bucky, eating a cookie, arching an eyebrow: You didn’t vote for Browder? Why didn’t you tell me? Steve: And have you say “I told you so” for the next century? Bucky: Heh.

Steve, with hand on his chin: What’s weird was that, despite everything, I still felt HORRIBLE when I ticked that box. Sam: Sounds like you built up the meaning of that vote far too much in your head. Logically, we know that a single box can’t represent all of the complexity of a whole system, but the desperately WANT it to. Just look at how people have built up so much around the term “Zionis” that it’s made productive conversations difficult.

Page 9: Sam and Steve speak in the background while Bucky reaches into the cooler and pulls out a box. Steve: Sigh. And that’s something that goes beyond the election. Sam: Which is why we need to vote, AND do other things. Bucky, looking at Steve and Sam: Like how Steve works to push organizations on the local level? Or like all the work you do as Captain America? Sam: Exactly. Vote AND.

Sam looks at Bucky fondly: Like how you vote AND make me and Steve take breaks. Bucky, looking stern because he can’t handle compliments: Shush, Sam.

Bucky holds up a cake that has the number “107” on it: It’s time for cake. Happy Birthday, Steve.

[witherby]

Absolutely loving the littlest wayne au 😍😍😍😍. Your most recent post made me think. Damien is relieved that mouse doesn't decided to join the bats, but I'd love to know how the other react when mouse reject the robin title.

Keep up the great work seriously you're super talented✨️.

Thank you so much for saying that! I appreciate it!

Bruce and Damian are relieved. He's getting older, and Gotham still needs protectors right now, but the city is getting better. Slowly and steadily, he hasn't needed to patrol every single night anymore. Gothamites are learning to defend themselves. Rogues are dwindling. Not only are you not particularly needed to defend the city, Bruce wants you to enjoy your life without the burden of that responsibility weighing down your shoulders. Maybe, one day, he'll be able to retire and do the same.

Bruce was going to stop recruiting Robins after Tim, truth be told, but Damian was raised with the League of Assassins and needed a more pacifistic outlet for all that rage that blossomed under Ra's Al Ghul, so he almost had no choice but to pass the mantle down again. Your disinterest doesn't offend him, it brings him peace.

Tim, briefly, considers it a waste of potential. You have the ability to control darkness and shadows. The bats operate exclusively in the night. Are you joking? Why wouldn't you want to protect the city with that? A couple weeks later, though, he comes around when he gets home from a days-long mission and wishes he had the time to just lie in bed and decompress for the foreseeable future. He thinks about his lack of free time, and about how he's always thinking about casework, and updating his suit, and picking up his next round of antibiotics because Damian's grandfather took his fucking spleen, and realizes he really doesn't want you doing all of that. It's bad enough you're keeping the secret of your family's double lives as they run around in spandex beating up criminals. You don't need to live a complicated double life of your own, and he doesn't want you to.

Dick is confused. He loves being Nightwing! He defends the citizens of Gotham and Blüdhaven when they can't defend themselves. Saving lives gives him a great sense of fulfillment. (It's the Parentification making him think he's only lovable if he's useful, actually, but 🤫) Dick will try to convince you to give the vigilantism a shot, just in a small supporting role for a bank heist or something, but if you put your foot down and insist you aren't interested in crime fighting, he kinda becomes a fish out of water. You don't want your big bro to be your superhero mentor? You're just his baby sibling and that's it? What are you guys supposed to find in common, now? How does he remain lovable to you if you aren't partners in the field?

He'll come around, but you gotta give him some time. Having a civilian sibling is going to do him a surprising amount of good.

Jason was rooting on you not becoming a Robin. He was prepared to do anything and everything to talk you out of it, including kidnapping you and taking you to his apartment in Crime Alley if need be so your other family members can't influence your decision. He doesn't want you to collect scars like trading cards. He doesn't want you learning how to apply a field tourniquet to avoid bleeding out from a gunshot wound. He doesn't want you getting a deeper glimpse of Gotham's rotted underbelly than you absolutely have to. He doesn't want you to die saving a city that takes and takes and takes and very rarely gives back. You are worth more than what you can do for others, and he was gearing up to talk that lesson into you until he was blue in the face.

So I'd like you to picture him just sagging in his seat, thanking a god he doesn't believe in that you're already unwilling to join their seemingly neverending crusade. Then he's gonna sit back up and ask if you wanna go play video games or something.

[starkwlkr]

i wait for you | sebastian vettel

part 1 part 2

this is the last part in this mini series!! thanks for reading <3 some lines are taken from the movie babylon :) (babylon, you will always be famous)

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading! you can read it here!

INSTAGRAM

liked by sebastianvettel, aussiegrit and 766,388 others

yourusername hi, i would like to start by saying thank you for all the kind messages i’ve been receiving over the past couple days. this is my only account on any social media. i know it’s been years since you’ve heard from me so here’s an update:

as of last week, i am now divorced and living happier than ever. i do a lot of reading and baking. i still think about my time on the track and all the wonderful people i met.

until next time, take care.

comments on this post have been limited

TIME SKIP TO ABU DHABI 2022

you weren’t sure if you made the right decision, yet here you were in the aston martin garage about to watch sebastian’s last race. the aston martin team made sure photographers weren’t in your face with their cameras, which you thanked them for. yeah, your former job had paparazzi following you almost everywhere but you had gotten used to the quietness.

you hadn’t seen sebastian all day, it was killing you inside. you felt like this was a bad decision, but before you could leave the aston martin garage, you saw sebastian enter with britta by his side. you heard him speaking to her, but he stopped once he spotted you.

britta noticed the look sebastian gave you. it was like seeing two teenagers in love. “i’ll leave you two alone.” she said then left.

sebastian watched as you played with the ring on your finger. it was a habit he noticed in 2010 and somehow you never changed. “we can go in my driver’s room if you’d like. it’s more private.”

“yeah, i’d like that.” you reply. together, you and sebastian walked to his driver’s room.

several people from the aston martin team were secretly rooting for you two, it was clear that they knew about your history. even if they were big fans of you, they didn’t walk up to you to ask for a photo, not when you were with sebastian on the most important night of his life.

you finally made it to his driver’s room. it was small, but it was just perfect for you and sebastian to have a conversation in. you and sebastian sat on the tiny bed. “are you nervous?” you asked.

“more excited actually. it really is nice that you’re here. thank you for coming.” he said.

“i didn’t think you would want me here.”

“why?”

you looked at him. there he was staring at you with his beautiful blue eyes. “i thought you hated me all these years.”

“i could never hate you, y/n. i never stopped loving you even when you told me you were engaged, when i found out you said i do to someone else.” he confessed. “i’ve carried this love for you in my heart for many years. but you were happy.”

“i was happy . . then he broke my heart and i gave him the ring back.” you replied. “i realized I didn’t want that life with him . . . because i want that life with you and i know it all seems so sudden but it’s always been you.”

in that moment, seemed to stand still as he processed the weight of her words. he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of hope blossom within him—a hope that, against all odds, maybe, just maybe, they could finally be together.

you could feel a tear run down your cheek. “god, i’m sorry. i dumped all this on you before your last race—”

then she felt sebastian’s lips on hers. as their lips met, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

for you, it was a revelation—a confirmation of the love you had always felt but never dared to acknowledge it. for sebastian, it was a homecoming—a return to the one person who had always held his heart captive, even when you belonged to another.

their moment had been interrupted by a knock on the door then by sebastian’s father, norbert vettel, asking if he was ready yet.

“i’ll be out in a second.” sebastian replied. he turned to look at you. “i am considering that a good luck kiss.”

“you don’t need luck, you’re sebastian vettel.” you playfully rolled your eyes.

“well whenever i’m with you, i always feel lucky.”

and with that, you and sebastian exited his driver’s room.

SEB’S LAST RACE

you were feeling lots of emotions. you watched as sebastian finished his post race interview with jenson. you watched from a monitor inside the aston martin garage, you could see the sadness in sebastian’s eyes. you knew the feeling all too well.

“go meet him.” norbert said. “he needs you right now.”

“but—”

“go.” he assured you.

so you walked to the pit lane since sebastian was already making his way back to the garage. once he spotted you, he smiled. you made it clear that now you didn’t care if you were photographed, all you wanted was to be with sebastian.

“i really want to kiss you right now.” sebastian said when he walked up to you. many photographers and journalists were crowded around you, making sure to capture the moment between you two.

“then do it.”

and then, without another word, he pulled her in for a kiss. as his lips met yours, you felt a rush of warmth flood your entire being. as they finally pulled away, your eyes met in a silent understanding. sebastian took your hand and led you to back to the garage where his team was waiting for him.

“i’m so proud of you.” you whispered to him.

“you won’t be saying that when i’m bothering you constantly now that i’ll be around you more.” he joked.

“and i’ll be fine with that.” you reply with a smile.

sebastian turned to face you. he knew it was still early, but he always kept his promises. “one day, i’m going to marry you. i’m going to make you so happy everyday, okay? it’s my only job.”

hearing sebastian’s words filled you with a sense of comfort, joy and reassurance. you suddenly felt more alive and complete than ever before.

“i love you, more deeply than i ever thought possible.” you reply.

and suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

@woozarts @hc-dutch @lightdragonrayne @multiplefandomwritings @jggykhug09090 @neivivenaj @kissesandmartinis @barnestatic @avythef1addict @sam-is-lost @dampcelery0294 @shineforever19 @c-losur3 @lifeless-firefly @horsiegek @ares10156 @purplephantomwolf

[helenazbmrskai]

Mating Act (m)

Title [Mating Act]

Pairing [Alien! Yoongi x Human Slave! Reader]

Genre [Alien AU, Sci-fi, Smut, Angst, Fluff]

Summary [You make two choices that change your life entirely. First, you make a choice when you decide to save a family and get kidnapped instead of them, the second you make is when you force imprinting on an alien that takes one wife in his life which you decide will be only you.]

Words [5,2k]

Warnings [General warnings: slavery, bad treatment, dystopia setting, human trafficking, Sexual content: playful neck grabbing, teasing, sexual tension, first-time sex, dirty talk, manhandling, mention of human and wife a lot, alien anatomy (black ink, coldness and a very hard, big and cold dick also magic saliva), fingering, oral (f and m), unprotected sex, belly bulge, size kink, positions (cock riding, doggy, missionary), y/n cries that is how good she feels, overstimulation, buckets of cum, creampie(s), begging, blow job, possessive alien yoongi]

Rating [+18]

A/N: I’m very excited to share this with you guys since I think this would be a great successor to my previous work that many of you liked called “Mating Season” It’s kind of the same but entirely different. This story is in the same universe but it takes place before mating season!

Masterlist //

Your scrunched eyes open slowly, first, you only see a blinding light your ears focus on the cracking sound of neon. It’s cold and you’re not wearing enough clothes for the cool temperature. It takes a few seconds for your senses to return to you and then you can fixate on your surroundings, it’s outdoors and midday as you see the sun going up high in the purplish blue sky.

It seemed that by the time you were unconscious, you arrived at the slave trading planet. The light grey iron bars are cold to the touch and it’s extremely noisy out there. Different species roam the cells it might be hundreds if not thousands of cells lined up for sale, and you’re one of them: a rare find, a human.

Your introduction is displayed for the buyers in numerous languages. There are a few that you speak so you can read it with ease: female human, breedable, young. You hate how the aliens size you up some even get threateningly close until you back up. They openly talk about you thinking that you can’t understand a single thing. Humans are stupid and weak. You’re a race that is almost at extinction. Only a few of you are left and your life expectancy is around eighty years old, it’s short compared to others but all too long for you humans. You managed to survive this long which is a miracle on its own. How pathetic of you to get caught in international body trafficking because you decided to save someone. At least you hope that the family you tried to protect is safe somewhere else you don’t have anything left to protect so you accept your faith.

Deep in your thoughts, you thought you lost all faith in survival. You don’t have anything to go back to but you’re still unable to give up.

You still don’t want to die.

Your defiant gaze meets with a young male. Shorter than his friends he has bland black hair with the same eyes that almost look human. You know that he’s not one of your own though he speaks a different language with his friends and has weird marking on his skin that looks exotic in your eyes.

“Do you like her?” A man next to him stops to read your description. They almost look sorry for you as they see you behind the cell.

“No.” Black hair says without giving it a second. His eyes bore into yours and when he decides to stop looking at you you make a second split decision. You’re going to choose him. Your hands grip the bars as you get as close to him as you can. It’s been a long time since you used that language but you have to try.

“Take me.” They can clearly understand your words, you speak their language. You point at the black-haired man.

“Oh, it seems to like you Yoongi.” A friendly voice slaps him on the shoulders. They talk animatedly among each other finding you intriguing. Books say that the human race is stupid and weak but you look none of those things. His friends encourage Yoongi to get closer to you and for once you don’t step back as he approaches after a little push in your direction. His hands grab onto the bars before he can regain his posture and you use that opportunity to put your hands on his. His hand is cold to the touch the cold blue veins on his hands are in contrast to his pale white skin.

“Yoongi.” You call out the word you heard them say that you think might be his name.

“We’re running out of time. Let’s take her and leave.” A man speaks up his eyes fixated on the holo panel that shows the time and some kind of message. He has some weird-looking glass in his eyes, you think he might be the captain of the ship. You’ve seen that type of accessory somewhere before.

“I didn’t say I will buy it.” Yoongi pulls his hand away like you dirtied him. You rack your brain on how to make him take you with him. Black hair and black eyes, cool skin and vine-like black ink make you think of a race. You loved to read books this is how you taught yourself a few of those languages and you remember reading about his species once. This decision might take you closer to your end but it will be better than rotting in this place so you grab his clothes and smash your lips on his through the tiny gap between the bars.

A race that takes one wife in his lifetime. You’re going to bet on that.

Your tongue forcefully enters his mouth using his surprise against him to successfully imprint your taste on him. After his mind catches up he pushes you away so hard that you land on your butt. His eyes almost look feral as he watches you, he’s very angry but closes his eyes to push the feeling down.

“Get up.” You haul yourself up from the floor getting close to him despite his hard gaze on you. You don’t flinch when he grabs your hair and pulls you close so that your faces are inches away from each other.

“You want to come, then come.” It’s not a calm and collected sentence that he whispers so close to you. It sounds like a threat but you smile and nod. Even if he hates you he has an obligation to you. With that kiss you sealed your fate with his, you’re his. His one and only human wife for all eternity.

Your back collides with the wall behind you as soon as you see your kidnapper his torture that you had to endure is replaying in the forefront of your mind as he fiddles with the cell keys your hostility is not lost on the young men that wait for your release. Yoongi paid for you in digital cash don’t have more time to waste.

He intends to take you with him so he asks for the ownership process to be sped up.

The kidnapper yanks you out of the cell not caring about how you almost land on your face through the force he uses. Yoongi catches you easily lifting you in his arms. You forced him into accepting you but he still does his job of protecting you. His glare is not meant for you this time as he looks displeased by your idle treatment right in front of him. His big hands are curled around you in pretence protection. You must be crazy because you actually relax in his secure hold.

“Hi.” One of his friends gets your attention as he waves. He looks at you with curious eyes he seems like he has a lot of questions for you.

“Hello.” You reply in a hoarse voice. You don’t remember the last time you ate or drank something.

“What’s your name? I’m Hoseok.” He points at you and then at himself. It’s nice of him to talk slowly so you have time to interpret his words. No one else speaks to you as you go. Probably on their way to their ship since one of them implied some important business. Yoongi doesn’t look at you but his hands are firm around you.

“Y/N.”

“Your name is weird.” Hoseok slaps his friend but you don’t take it in the wrong way. Of course, for them, a human name will sound weird.

“You’re being rude Taehyung.” Hoseok scolds the other guy before he turns back to you swaying in Yoongi’s arms. “I think your name is pretty and you speak our language pretty well. How did you learn it? On Earth?”

You shake your head. If you think about your home planet your heart starts aching. “No. I taught myself reading books.”

Now his other friend looks interested in the conversation. The one who has that weird-looking glass.

“Fascinating, to find a smart human like you. I want to run some tests.” Hearing that crazy scientist talk again brings back bad memories as your face becomes uncomfortable and your relaxed figure goes rigid inside Yoongi’s arms. He could feel you tense up in fear and he reacted by holding you more firmly to his chest.

“You’re scaring her. Stop it.” This is the first thing he says after he bought you. Namjoon looks sheepish and apologises and even Hoseok reassures you that he’s just not good with words and you won’t be a lab rat at all.

You accept their apology. You think they mean well and are quite friendly to your utter surprise. They seem like good guys. You feel like it’s a good time to reveal some of your thoughts.

“Just because you read my description doesn’t mean you know anything about me. I wouldn’t reveal anything that would put me at a disadvantage. This is how I could survive until now.” The words taste sour in your mind and you think about all the things you had to do and endure just to be here. Was it worth it? This life. You have thought about it more times than you would have liked to admit.

“It must have been hard for you.” Hoseok shows you empathy and you give him a smile back in silent thanks.

“Why did you choose Yoongi?” A younger male looks at you with curious eyes. They don’t show it but this is the question they all were curious about all along. Even Yoongi perks up when he thinks you’re not looking.

“My instinct told me to trust him.” As for why, you don’t know either. You saw countless men and women walk in front of your cage but you only wanted him to buy you. The moment his eyes unknowingly lingered on you you decided to go with him. He must have felt something too. You saw him before he saw you. He never looked at anyone else but you. If you ask him he will probably deny it but you’re sure of it.

You probably looked desperate. Now that you replay your impulsive behaviour in your mind colour blooms on your cheeks in embarrassment. You learned how to kiss from a book it didn’t occur to you before but what if you were a bad kisser? You started spiralling until your surroundings faded and you locked yourself inside your head. You didn’t register when you arrived on board or when he carried you to his room.

You shiver when he puts you down on his bed. The temperature of his room is colder than you’re used to.

You panic when he tugs your clothes without a word. You grab his cold hands and look into his eyes with widened ones. He looks back at you with predatory. You once read that humans had a ceremony to be pronounced wife and husband. You never experienced it as a human but it sounded romantic.

Thinking back on what you read.

Yoongi is an alien. His species only takes one wife and their ritual is different from yours. The road to becoming his wife is simple enough.

“Look at you being surprised. As if you didn’t know what you did when you kissed me first.” You didn’t know, you just acted impulsively without thinking. You wanted to say that to him but only a gasp left your lips as he pushed you down on his large bed. He won’t listen to any of your pathetic excuses now.

“You forced my hands. Even if you don’t want it anymore you have no other choice but to be mine.” You gulp down the saliva that accumulated in your mouth, his fierce eyes pin you to the spot lying helplessly under him. His hand is so cold as he wraps it around your neck gently he can feel your heartbeat accelerate under his palm. He studies your features taking in every inch of you from head to toe. Committing everything about you to memory. Yoongi curls a few locks of your long hair around his fingers inhaling your scent his nose rubs against your pulse point. Your hands hold onto his waist digging your fingers onto his side but he doesn’t care about it as he kisses the skin on your neck.

You’re dirty and dishevelled in appearance your captor was not kind to his prisoners and you look like a shell of yourself after everything that you’ve been through. Your average beauty doesn’t matter to Yoongi. He’s going to take you regardless of how beautiful you look in other's eyes or not. The kiss already sealed your fate as his bride. Imprinting your taste on him means that he can’t escape you. While Yoongi wants to take you right then and there he realises that you need to be in a better shape to undertake the ritual. He did get a reaction rise out of you. So amusingly innocent.

“Take a shower, you reak.” You awkwardly look to the side unable to meet with his confident smirk. He likes to watch your face turn red. He pulls away from you and you take in a long-needed breath of fresh air. The coldness seeping back into your body makes you sober up and you scurry to his joined bathroom. Yoongi laughs as he sees you hide behind the door he makes sure you can operate the shower before he goes out to get some food for you. You don’t have any clothes to wear but you’re at least clean.

You find a clean cloth to wrap around your body in makeshift clothes it’s better than nothing as you need something to shield you from the cold.

Yoongi comes back before you can organize your thoughts. You could barely calm your heart as your mind kept replaying his soft lips on your neck and his body weight on you not to talk about those alluring black eyes. You could still see your reflection in them as you lock gazes. You look away when he puts the tray down in front of you full of food that you don’t know the name of. It’s not too bad once you take a bite but it’s bland the more you consume. It meets the purpose of filling you up as you no longer feel that gnawing hunger in the pit of your stomach.

You jolt up when you feel his hand pull your wet hair to the other side making his way to your neck. He takes a long whiff of air finally smelling your natural scent that was previously masked by the dirt and sweat. He takes the opportunity to cover you in his scent rubbing his nose up and down your throat.

You can’t concentrate on eating anymore.

“Eat. You will need it.” As if he could read your mind he halts all movements simply deciding on laying his head on your shoulder. You pick up more food and try to ignore how his possessive touch engulfs your body in a backhug. You remember how angry he became once you forcibly kissed him he even pushed you hard enough to lose your footing. The way he accepted you is too sudden.

“Are you going to …” Unable to say the words you stop in the middle.

“Am I going to fuck you? Yes, I will.” You gulp.

“Don’t you hate me for kissing you?” You close your eyes when Yoongi wraps his fingers around your neck again this time with more force but gentle enough that you’re not choking on air he just pulls you against his chest holding you by the neck as his nose rubs against your left cheek.

“I am angry. You selfishly decided this on your own. I bet you don’t realise half of the mess you got yourself into. I don’t hate you though. There’s something about you that caught my eye.”

It’s only a small peck on your cheek but your hands tighten around the tray. You take in a much-needed breath when you realise he doesn’t hate you. It makes you feel better knowing that it’s not entirely your imagination. He did look at you.

“I admit I don’t know much.” You sheepishly reply confirming his words. You read some things about his species but there’s no proof that everything is accurate.

“It doesn’t matter as you will be mine anyway.” His hand pulls you close his fingers splayed over your stomach. You only have a thin cloth over your naked body while Yoongi is fully clothed.

“Put down the tray.” You follow his order bending down slightly to put the tray down onto the floor. You let out a surprised yelp when his hands find your ass under the thin material, your backside is on full display for his hungry eyes. Your fingers have a deadly grip on the edge of the bed as he kneads the soft flesh.

“Your smell comes strongly from here.” His thumb parts your folds some wetness is gathered there that sticks to his finger when he pulls back. “I read a few books about you too, enough to know that this means you like the idea of me fucking you.”

Yoongi hates how he can’t see you acting coy biting your lip so he forcibly pulls you back against his chest and pulls your face to the side. You land on his lap your legs dangling on either side of his thighs. He runs his finger up and down your wetness watching your expression turn hazy and your mouth open to let out a silent moan.

“You like this don’t you? Having your human pussy touched by me.” Yoongi finds your clit quickly finding out how your moans increase in volume when he rubs circles over it. You’re gushing over his fingers.

The black ink on his arms moves to stain your body with blackness until it circles over your thigh in two pretty hoops. Your body is getting overheated as his touches devour your body. Fingers dance around your folds, your hips. The black hoops around your ankles and thighs are a reminder of what you started. You’re going to become Yoongi’s and no one can stop that from happening.

Feeling overwhelmed you reach up to kiss him and he does with a growl. He doesn’t push you away like when you stole his first kiss. No. He pulls you closer turning you around until you’re chest to chest.

Your hand rests against his shoulders your fingernails digging into his skin as you feel one of his fingers enter you without warning. Yoongi swallows your sounds with his mouth pushing his finger in and out of your pussy until your essence is running down his wrist. He adds another one and another one stretching your walls as he devours your mouth your hips moving along without you noticing. Getting into the rhythm of riding his fingers. You need to pull back to get some air in between the kisses. His hungry expression manages to steal your last remaining string of sanity. The cloth around you barely covers you anymore and Yoongi goes to remove it and leave you entirely naked before him.

His attention goes to your perky nipples both hands grabbing a handful and pepper kisses around the mound.

So far he doesn’t look strange. Not that you have any experience of what you should see in a situation like this. You conclude that your newly formed tattoos are one of the few things that are specific to his race.

His tongue is cold it makes you shiver when he sucks on one of your nipples. He’s so cold but his coolness is welcomed by your feverish body.

“Lay down.” You do as he tells you. Eagerly and shamelessly open your legs and welcome him between them. This is really happening you realise when he takes off his clothes. His pale skin is pretty and cool against you. Even his cock lined with cold blue veins is pretty and cold when he rubs it between your folds. It’s big and hard like a rock against you. Yoongi can see how you tense up after seeing his size.

“It won’t hurt if you do as I tell you.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb kissing you surprisingly sweetly.

“O-okay.” You nod. You wanted this. You can’t back down now. This is your only chance to live a life without hardships. You’re going to take everything that he gives you.

“This will make it feel better.” Yoongi licks his finger and when it comes into contact with your clit you feel an overwhelming pleasure bloom inside you. His saliva is heightening your pleasure having some kind of chemical in it that helps you feel kind of high. It blocks the pain when his veiny head pushes through the tight rim of your muscle. You and Yoongi watch how his long cock disappears in you inch by inch. It doesn’t hurt at all as he keeps his thumb on your clit, only making you feel full.

“Too much.” You put your hand on your stomach and feel him sitting inside. He makes way no matter how much your body tries to constrict around the intrusion. He reaches your deepest part shaping you into his size.

“There. All in.” Yoongi chuckles when he sees you struggle. You want to stay still and move at the same time. It feels good and strange but too good. You want him to move but on the other hand, you need time to get accustomed to this fullness. Yoongi can see the outline of his cock bulge out of your tummy and he experimentally pushes against your skin. Your pussy pulse around him and get tighter as he massages your lower belly. “How does it feel my little human? Do you feel good?”

You nod kissing him back with passion as your tongues rub together. He continues his descent down your body kissing your neck and breasts. Filling your body with pretty black ink. You pulse and throb around him as he remains unmoving inside you. Not enough you roll your hips trying to show him you want him to move.

“Answer me. Does my cock make you feel good?” At first, he only pulls out a little before he thrusts back testing the waters before he pulls out more as he uses a steady pace to rock into you.

“Yes. Yes. So good please don’t stop. Fuck me harder.” Yoongi wonders how his wife learned how to say such dirty words in his language but he’s thankful for it as his cock appreciates the compliments. Just like you asked he fucks you harder hitting that spot inside you with more deep thrusts.

“Yoongi. Yoongi.” The way you moan his name spurs him on, grabbing your ankles he sinks the remaining inch inside you.

“Ah. Y/N.” He responds with your own name. Grabbing your hips he pumps his cock in and out of you at a fast pace until you can remember his shape. This is the first time he says your name and your walls constrict around him hearing him moaning it. He’s growing addicted to the feel of you. He can hear and smell and see you. The way your pussy swallows him in your tight and wet heat ruined every expectation he had before.

You feel way better than he imagined.

Your tits bounce with each thrust and your moans never cease to slip from your dry throat as he buries his shaft to the hilt.

“Yoongi, I feel weird.” You grab his hand need something to hold onto as you feel this weird tightness in your belly. Yoongi could sense you were almost there tripping over the edge of bliss you became tighter around him. You’re growing sensitive.

“I know. Hold onto me, my sweet wife.” You hold his hand as he twists it behind your back the position is uncomfortable but the minute his cock slips back inside your heat you forget about it as it reaches new places inside you. Your back is arched one hand is firmly holding you and the other is placed on your hips.

This position allows him to hit even deeper the tip of his cock curves around a spot that has you see stars. You’re panting with your face nearly suffocating against the bed. Unable to move or hold yourself up you’re entirely kept in place by the help of Yoongi. The tightness in your chest explodes as you cream around Yoongi’s cock. He doesn’t stop there he fucks you through overstimulation keeping up with his ruthless pace you tear through the bedsheets. His long fat cock claims your pussy as his with a heavy load of cum. The tattoos on your body all settle down as he finishes with a few sloppy thrusts into your buttered hole.

Once he pulls out you can feel his thick cum pour out and his fingers trace your tattoos painting your body with his whiteness until everything about you is covered in him. He doesn’t stop there, he pries your shaking legs open and latches onto your sensitive bud. Yoongi pushes his cum back with two of his fingers as his tongue flicks over your clit. It’s too much and you try to push his face away but he doesn’t budge. He holds both of your hands in his tight grip on your stomach as he continues to feast on your pussy.

“Yoongi. Oh, uh.” You squirm but you can’t escape his hold. “Please. Stop, i-it’s too much.” Tears start to roll down your cheeks the next orgasm you experience hurts so bad but you can’t deny how it feels incredible at the same time. More intense than the previous one you had you let go with a cry of his name and cum around his fingers.

“No. More.” Yoongi looks up after registering your hiccup and goes up to soothe you. His tongue licks your tears away showering your neck and face with kisses until your crying subsides.

Yoongi looks you over and while he finds you utterly appealing covered in his cum he has a concerned look in his eyes. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He pulls you close to his chest but after your senses come back one by one you start to feel his sticky cum all over you. Some still gush out of your hole as he hugs you to his body.

“No.” You shake your head reassuring him with a kiss. You don’t want to admit you cried because he felt so good.

This is the first time you experienced something like this. You’re in no way an expert but you know that his dick is not like any human males you’ve encountered in your books. They shouldn’t be so cold and big and the small ridges that kept rubbing your insides felt weird but incredibly good at the same time.

Even when he’s not aroused he’s so big. You want to touch it. “Can I?” Asking for permission you reach for his cock that rests against your leg but you don’t touch it until you get the green light for it.

“Sure.” Yoongi chuckles at your curiosity. It hasn’t been a hot minute that his dick was inside you but you want to touch it.

“It’s cold.” You muse, it’s slick with both of your cum so you could drag it up and down easily. Yoongi’s gasp catches in his throat it’s still sensitive but he lets you pump it until it’s hard again. You grow curious about how it tastes so you lick around the head as your hand moves up and down in slow motion. It doesn’t really taste like anything to you. Easy to swallow. You take your place in between his legs to get comfortable. Yoongi shivers when he feels your hot mouth around his most sensitive cockhead. You dip your tongue into the slit earning a loud groan from Yoongi his hand rests on top of your head only moving to get the hair out of his view of you sucking his cock.

“Do you like it?” You wonder if it feels good for him. This is the first time you’re doing this.

“Y-Yes, keep going.” You take more of him into your mouth encouraged by his hooded eyes that watch you. “Your mouth is very warm. It feels incredible.” You hum around a mouthful of cock he’s too big for you to get even half of him into your mouth. You stroke the skin that you can’t lick and you focus on his head instead of trying to choke on his cock. Even though you don’t think he wouldn’t like to see you choke on his length trying to fit everything. He reassures you that he likes everything you do to him. He doesn’t try to push your head down and you appreciate his thoughtfulness with an enthusiastic bob of your head up and down his length. He fills your mouth so much that it’s hard for you to swallow around it.

He's throbbing between your lips as you kiss the tip. He shows you how much he’s enjoying it with his lewd moans and sweet touches on your face and the back of your head. Contemplating what you should do with yourself you decide to give in to the desire once more. You want to have him again that it outweighs your concern to be able to take him after such a short time but it doesn’t deter you as you climb on his lap.

“Help me?” You ask shyly rubbing on his fully hard cock.

“Of course,” Yoongi replies with a smirk he can see how needy you are and he won’t deny his pretty wife anything. He kisses your lips sucking on your tongue as he guides your hips to hover over his cockhead.

He touches and kisses every mark and tattoo that appears on your skin.

You sink slowly at your own pace feeling full but you overcome the stretch of your body remembering his shape makes it easier for you to bury it fully into you. He’s big and hard as a rock inside you.

You need him to help you move but he’s more than eager to lift you and have you bounce on his cock. He’s wound up from your previous actions he had no idea he would be this turned on by seeing your small hands and mouth wrapped around his dick. You smell delicious he can’t help but kiss every inch he can reach as he guides you through the motions. You bounce on his cock your expression entirely clouded by pleasure as he hits the best spots inside your spongy walls. Yoongi kneads your ass pulling them apart to watch his cock disappear inside your small pussy. Your body might be coated in his cum but his cock is entirely coated in your arousal and cum until he shoots a fresh load inside your spent hole.

The others don’t see you the next couple of days only catch the back of Yoongi as he carries fresh food for you.

[letterlitter]

Pacify Her

Lando Norris x reader

•Tags: smut, toxic Lando, hate-fuck, makeup sex

•Loosely based on a song by Melanie Martinez with the same title.

•Wordcount: 1.6k

It was unbearable how Lando squeezed this new girl's thigh and whispered in her ear. You knew it was to make you jealous, he was a tease even more when you two were in a relationship. You had really bad arguments that let to the decision of splitting, but since you didn't want to break up the friend group, you agreed to just say the relationship ended on good terms and decided to be friends which was a total lie and both of you knew it.

Now, only a couple months after everything, Lando had shown up with a new "girlfriend" which drove you absolutely mad how uncouth he could be. Bringing this girl in your group out of the blue fully knowing that neither you nor himself had moved on from that deep, long term thing you had.

She looked at you like she wanted to be your friend and get your validation so bad. You didn't know if Lando had told her you were his ex. He didn't even dare mention it when he was introducing her. You automatically hated her, although her big brown eyes seemed lovely and innocent. She didn't have a clue what she had gotten herself into. You pitied her cluelessness.

You noticed Lando's griny glances at you, he kept making sure you were looking before each kiss he left on her cheek. The bastard had all his moves coordinated and planned but you had been with him for too long not to see right through his facade.

You were at your limit, who was he to inflict this hurt on you after all that he had done?

Rage made your body dense as you walked towards Lando's house the night after, when you made sure nobody else was with him. His Friday nights had always been free on purpose to sleep until noon, game, and sleep again. You remember trying to wake him up for lunch and he was dead asleep because he had stayed awake to play with friends.

You rang and he buzzed the door open without asking. Walking towards the stairs you noticed the rose garden you had planted in a corner. The thought of Lando's face after a thorn had poked him in the arm and how he treated the flowers as his enemies forced your lips into a fainted smile. You hated that his memories made you happy. You hated it was him you had those memories with.

You pushed the thoughts away and tried to focus on why you were here. Lando opened the door, a confused look on his face, "y/n? What is it why are you here?"

"We need to talk." And you stormed in.

"Please come in, make yourself comfortable." The sarcasm in his voice was familiar, and now that you weren't in love with him, infuriating.

"Want to talk about what?"

"About how you're being such an asshole."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't act like this Lando I know you did those things on purpose."

"Damn I don't know what you're talking about." He kept his sarcastic tone. You hated it.

You pushed his chest back in anger, "stop playing with me. You know damn well this girl you keep bringing is just a doll to mess with my head."

Lando smiled as if he had been expecting these words from you.

"This is way too low, even for you Lando."

"Everyone thinks we're friends, why can't friends introduce their new girlfriends to their other friends?"

"I'm not everyone. I know this is a lie stop trying to make it sound casual."

"What do you expect me to do? Stay single until you're over me?"

"Yes!" The loud sound that exited your mouth surprised you as it did Lando. You never planned to sound weak or needy. You just wanted to get closure, "look. I'm not trying to control your life or whatever, but what you're doing to make me jealous is messy and fucking pathetic. Fix it. Goodbye." And you started walking towards the door.

"Well did it work?" Lando's voice stopped you. He sounded sort of genuine for the first time in months.

You kept silent and still, wondering what to answer. Turning around to face him you said, "well do you love her?"

"Of course I do. She's very real."

You took one step closer, "stop lying."

Lando took a step closer to you, "stop being jealous."

You took one more step, "she looks way too innocent for you. I pity her."

Lando took another step , "I can teach her."

-"Funny."

-"I know."

-"You're insufferable."

-"I know."

Silence.

Now you were only one step away from eachother. Only one breath. You were mad at him and the tension felt heavy in the air as the sun was halfway set. His eyes looked crazy blue in the last golden rays of sunshine coming in fron his big windows. His face stingy and lips so soft it made you even more angry at him.

Your self control was getting shaky and you felt it shatter when Lando swinged his arms up to hold your face to kiss you deeply on the lips.

You squeezed your hand on his arm in protest to rip him off of you before it was too late but he was desperate.

He kept kissing you harder and harder like you gave him air to breathe.

You hated this. You hated the way his body pulled you in and you hated how it felt so good. He knew his way with you. Every single button, all the nooks and crannies.

You finally eased into the kiss, letting go of Lando's hoodie that was balled up in your fist and started to kiss him back.

His hands unzipped your sweatshirt and pulled it off your arms as soon as he felt that you wanted this as well. You let him. He slipped his hand under your tshirt, pinching your belly, messaging your back.

You let out a heavy exhale.

"I missed you." He whispered into your mouth, putting his lips on yours before you could say anything back.

Lando's hands moved down to your jeans but you held onto his hand to prevent him from going on. He stopped kissing you.

It was all too much for you and you hated him for being so good at this. You stared dead into his eyes, knowing full well that you were helpless, and said, "you fucking bastard."

He giggled when you pressed your debating lips on his again.

You let him kiss your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, your belly. You let him get down on his knees for you, between your legs.

His wet tongue on you made you jump in a surprising pleasure. The tip of his tongue moving in circular motions, in search of the place that made you moan the loudest. You tried fighting the sensation but failed miserably when he raised his finger to your entrance, messaging and warning about what's to come.

The moan that left your lips after he pushed his finger inside you was involuntary. You could feel Lando smiling on your pussy with the sound. He kept moving his tongue with your hand in his curls; pumping his finger and pulling moans out of you until you felt like you could take it no more. That's when Lando pulled his now soaked finger out and stood up, Leaving you clenching around nothing.

He faced you again to continue his kisses; you could taste yourself on his lips as he took off your tshirt and your bra, leaving you completely naked in the middle of the house. He looked at you once more before taking off his own hoodie you've been pulling on to get rid of since the start, he turned you around and got closer. His bulge rubbing against your butt from under his sweatpants.

"You're so pretty." He whispered into your ear, "wait here okay?"

You turned around to see him almost run to his bedroom to get condoms and you got a chance to take a look at his smooth, tan skin as he walked back.

Lando kissed you shoulder and your back as he slowly bent you over the handle of the couch. Messaging your body as he bent on you to let you feel his skin, his pants were off, your could feel his hard dick against the back of your leg. He adjusted himself on you and pushed in. You weren't hesitant to moan anymore. His length inside you was a familiar sensation of pleasure after this long. He was all you needed.

Lando started pumping deeper into you, making you feel fully stretched. You could hear his little groans and exhales when he grabbed your neck to make you arch your back more, pulling your head towards his mouth. "I bet nobody fucked you like this since I was gone." And he started moving faster. You pushed back your body into his, blurring the lines infront of your eyes.

You came within seconds after that.

He pulled out of you. You turned around quickly, grabbed his shoulders and lead him to the couch to sit down.

"Could you ever teach her this?"

And you climbed on top of him, each leg on each side. Leading his still erect dick to your hole and pushing down on him. Lando threw his head back with a moan. You took his hands and put them on your ass. He squeezed his hands with every movement you made.

You started kissing under his ear, where you knew he was sensitive. Moans started turning into whimpers and he started pushing up his legs towards you. You both moved faster as you reached your high. You nails dug into Lando's shoulder and his hands tight around your back when you both came and you collapsed into his arms.

****

"What a stupid decision." You said through your panting and you both giggled since you knew you were going to make more.

(This is the first time I'm posting a smut one shot online sorry if it's short or lacking♡)

[rimatsu]

alcoholic hallucinosis

bucktommy, m, 2k words. read on ao3 Alcohol has dulled his sense and alertness enough that alarm bells don't immediately go off when the camera tilts back to reveal a wider shot of Buck's wooden headboard. It's only when the video shakes and refocuses on a familiar head of chestnut curls that Eddie begins to regret every life decision that brought him to this particular moment. (In which Eddie receives an unsolicited, accidental sex tape.)

Eddie is 12 hours into a 48 off when his phone pings with a new text notification.

Outside, the blue haze of daylight has lifted to reveal the moon. He's been languishing on the couch with a drink and bad TV as his sole company for longer than initially planned. There's a tiny gulp of amber liquid left at the bottom of his Glencairn glass where grains of charred wood have started to sediment. It's the barrel-proof stuff, casket-aged and bold and explosively flavorful, pricy and usually reserved for special occasions.

Eddie isn't the type to indulge for no reason, but he figures he deserves a treat after dealing with Gerrard's machiavellian schemes at work and withering familial radio-silence courtesy of his son. The text he's sent this morning — three whole paragraphs detailing his week and asking about Christopher's new friends and the robotics club he's joined — had only garnered a thumb-up in response

So it's 9:48pm and Eddie is 2 fingers away from buzzed, and he's watching fictional characters make mistakes more disastrous than his own stupid blunders with a pleasant fog cushioning his thoughts, eyelids heavy and guards down, and naturally that’s when Buck decides to send a cryptic video his way.

Eddie is used to receiving pictures and random factoids and links to obscure forums whenever Buck descends into one of his manic research deep dives, but they usually come with some key context. The newest addition to their chat log is a lone clip, with no caption or introduction or explanatory details. It's about 12 minutes long and the preview thumbnail is mostly indecipherable: brown, blurry with motion and too close to the lens for identification.

Against his better judgement, Eddie shrugs, mutes the TV and taps play on the video file.

Alcohol has dulled his sense and alertness enough that alarm bells don't immediately go off when the camera tilts back to reveal a wider shot of Buck's wooden headboard. It's only when the video shakes and refocuses on a familiar head of chestnut curls that Eddie begins to regret every life decision that brought him to this particular moment. His eyes bug out as he tries to compute what he's seeing unfold in rapid increments, something like dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

On his screen and in his hand and in HD resolution, Buck’s right cheek is smashed into a pillow, face sweaty and so red his birthmark no longer stands out against the backdrop of his skin. His mouth is an open wound gasping for air, and there are thick-knuckled fingers twisted in his hair, keeping him down. His brows are furrowed like he's in agony, except that's not pain twisting his features; it's not the expression that haunts Eddie from a half-dozen near tragedies and hospital visits — no, that's a face crumpled in uncomplicated pleasure.

“Arch up, sweetheart,” comes out of the tiny speakers, and that's Tommy's voice, laced with something unrecognizable, low and warm and whiskey-soaked like the scotch Eddie has been sipping all evening; loud because he’s holding the phone this was filmed on, because that's his hand cradling the back of Buck’s skull, big and proprietary and unrelenting. “Give me something nice to look at.”

Eddie's entire central nervous system shuts down after hearing that request, and he’s left gaping at his screen, stunned stupid, staring unblinkingly and in morbid fascination the way passerbys might gawk at a car crash, awful but ultimately fascinating.

Distantly, Eddie wonders if he’s perhaps experiencing some acute form of alcoholic hallucinosis.

Now, he’s borne witness to his fair share of disturbing sights throughout the years — viscera and gore, absurd accidents and gruesome deaths. With two military tours under his belt, he’s developed quite the steel core; Eddie knows how to push past shock to go through necessary motions. Still, no amount of training and field experience could've prepared him for this, because in the next second the video frame shifts again, pans down Buck’s neck and the broad expense of his back and along the sine wave of his spine—

And yep. That's definitely a POV shot of Eddie’s best friend taking it up the ass.

When his synapses start firing again a heartbeat later, horror cuts through the petrified and intoxicated daze clouding Eddie’s brain like a punch to the sternum, sudden and sobering.

“Oh my God!” he screams, shrill and panicked and undignified, and then does the instinctual thing, which is to toss his phone across the room like it's contaminated by the bubonic plague.

It lands facedown near the TV console with a loud thud. Unfortunately, the distance does nothing to muffle the telltale, slick and rhythmic noises of skin-on-skin or the pornographic grunts of masculine pleasure coming out of the loudspeakers, resonating against the walls of his too quiet house.

Eddie stares at the mobile device like it’s radioactive, the tip of his ears burning hot in embarrassment and delayed indignation.

What kind of sick fucking joke is this?

Badly-lit, homemade, amateur porn. Of the gay variety. Starring Buck and his boyfriend — his two closest companions these days. That's what Buck shared with him tonight for some depraved, incomprehensible reason. Because he's apparently a lunatic with no understanding of the concept of privacy or boundaries or socially acceptable behavior. Either that or Buck is experiencing a stroke, or being hacked, or this is his way of letting Eddie know he’s been kidnapped, or maybe it’s all a huge mistake they’ll maybe laugh at ten years from now when Eddie can remember this moment without wanting to gouge his eyes out of their sockets.

Eddie presses the heels of his palms into his lids until stars replace the afterimage seared onto his retina, and then prays for deliverance from this wretched, godless existence.

"Daddy," he hears, rough and saliva-garbled and pleading, and nope.

No.

Absolutely not.

Eddie scrambles for his phone so he can put a stop to the auditory torture. Since his life is a joke, the jump over the coffee table he attempts in his haste proves to be too perilous for his tipsy, uncoordinated limbs. His toes get caught in the folds of his area rug and he ends up a screeching, scandalized heap on the floor.

"Ow!" Eddie yelps, a few feet from his phone that is still taunting him with moans.

Once he finally manages to press the side button, Eddie collapses back on the ground, hands shaking with residual adrenaline. His screen is cracked and his knees are throbbing from the force of his fall, but silence sounds so blissful Eddie can barely find it in himself to be irritated.

He flips on his back and stares at the ceiling, suddenly exhausted.

Maybe Eddie is the problem. Maybe he’s an enabler who invited his own misfortune.

Buck has always been prone to over-sharing, but there had been a time early in his relationship with Tommy when he had acted unusually tight-lipped. In the spirit of unconditional support, Eddie had reiterated that nothing had to change between them — that Buck didn’t need to censor himself just because he was seeing a man.

(“So you want the details?” Buck had asked, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Eddie had made an unimpressed face in answer. “I never want the details, but it’s not like that ever stopped you before.”

“Your funeral,” Buck had said with a grin and a shrug, and then spent the next few minutes recounting the epic tale of his ‘tumultuous journey to rid himself of his gag reflex’. Eddie had listened in a mostly dissociative state, doing his best not to wince at the very descriptive portrait painted before his eyes until he’d realized Buck was messing with him by testing the limits of his tolerance.)

That had been only fair, since Buck is the type to readily lend an ear for ex-nun girlfriend troubles — and with minimal judgment to boot — but now Eddie is starting to regret the gesture. Maybe Buck had heard ‘you don’t have to keep it PG for my sake, I'm totally down with the queers’ and understood ‘if you ever need constructive criticism on the angles of your sextape, I’m your guy!’

Eddie briefly entertains the idea of sending Buck a vindictive voice message demanding he explains himself, maybe even relay the various ways he wants to throttle Buck for his crassness and his exhibitionist tendencies and his wild disregard for the sacred bonds of pseudo-brotherhood, but he still feels off-balance, and in the end Eddie chooses to resort to a less confrontational coping mechanism: drinking the trauma away.

He ignores the abandoned glass sitting on his side table to take long gulps of whiskey straight from the bottle instead. It's not the kind of liquor made to be chugged down, and the alcohol burns his throat all the way down his stomach, but he welcomes the flame, grateful for the physical distraction.

He’s working himself into an inebriated stupor when his phone starts vibrating like a hummingbird's wings, pinging madly with texts after texts.

When he unlocks the mobile with the apprehension of a soldier stepping into a minefield, it’s to find 42 new messages from Buck.

Eddie takes another fortifying swig of booze and opens iMessage.

The first ten text bubbles are strictly comprised of delirious keysmashing, confirming the inadvertent mistake hypothesis. That’s a relief: Buck hasn’t temporarily lost his mind to jealousy again and didn’t try to mark his territory because Tommy had taken Eddie to a WBC championship last week. Thank God for small mercies.

Eddie scrolls past them to read the more coherent ones.

OH FUCKKKKKK

ASFHJBCAVKJVCHK

NONONONONOOO

THIS CANT BE HAPPENING

THIS IS LIKE EVERYONES WORST NIGHTMARE

EDDIE

EDMUNDO MIDDLE NAME DIAZ

DO NOT

I REPEAT DO NOT WATCH THE BIDEO

IT WASNT MEANT GOR YOU

IT WAS A MISTAKE!!!!!!

NOT ON PURPOSE

SERIOUSLY DONT OPEN THE VIDEO

it will hurt your fragile relapsed catholic sensibilities and send you into cardiac arrest

IT WAS MEANT FOR TOMMY AND NOT FOR UR PRUDISH EYES

SERIOUSLY SCROLL PAST

SPARE US BOTH THE HUMILIATION I BEG OF YOU

you were the last contact i texted

my big fat thumb must've slipped

shittt the read receipt

welp it's so over...

ig that's done and over with

sorry

when you're done pouring bleach over your eyes

let me know you're still alive so i can sleep at night with a clear conscience knowing you didn't lobotomize yourself or something

again I'M SORRY

A HONEST MISTAKE that's surely mortifying for the both of us but mostly ME

please tell me i didn't irreparably damage our friendship

just so you know tommy’s been laughing for the past 10 minutes. i’m glad SOMEONE is enjoying this shitshow

You owe me an emergency therapy session with Frank

And a screen repair

did you freak out and break your phone

I threw it at the wall

ok drama queen 😂

No. There's nothing funny or dramatic about it

I'm not gonna be able to look you in the face for the foreseeable future

I'll have to ask Gerrard for a transfer

Ravi says the B-shift is very welcoming

Maybe I'll find a new buddy there. One that doesn't send me his nudes unprompted

Hell maybe I should move back to El Paso

This could be a sign from the universe to take matter into my own hands instead of waiting idly for Christopher's forgiveness

you don't believe in signs

Maybe I do now

Maybe your little fuck up was the catalyst needed for change

c'mon man

play it cool

if you get embarrassed then i'll get embarrassed

and if we're both embarrassed then who's flying the plane

Your apologies suck balls

just like me

What the hell Buck

WAY TOO SOON

sorry

shame is an emotion i refuse to feel so i’m just owning it now

ok can we just agree to forget this ever happened

and maybe delete the vid from your cloud

Yeah ok

Way ahead of you

My phone has already been scrubbed clean

Do me a favor and check twice the next time you send Tommy a dick pic

dw lesson learned

so.......

did you watch the full thing or

be honest

it’s okay if you did you can still be straight

Scratch that

Consider our friendship irreparably damaged NOW

I’m blocking you

EDDIE NO

I WAS JOKING TO DIFFUSE THE TENSION

EDDIE!!!!!

[elysianightsss]

First dates always end bad.

Summary: You stress about your first date with John only to realise there was nothing to worry about.

You were ready. Almost. Make up? Done. Hair? Done. Clothes? On. Anxiety? Through the roof.

You were going out to lunch with John, fuck your heart was pounding so hard it was starting to hurt. What if you said the wrong thing? You thought as you grabbed your keys and stuffed them in your little side bag.

What if you trip over? You worry as you pulled on a cute pair of wedges. What if he rejects you? You breathe harshly as you shift through your sundresses trying to decide which one he would like the best.

Breathing harshly became hyperventilating. Your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to control yourself. How were you this panicked over a fucking meal with him? Had he given you any reason to panic? Any reason to worry?

“No, so chill the fuck out.” You scolded yourself and grabbed your phone.

You: What’s your favourite colour? 10:49am. delivered.

Your leg shook as you waited for his reply, palms sweaty, body temperature rising. You moved off the bed to open the window, letting the cool breeze into your bedroom. Turning to the left you notice your mirror and particularly how you look in the reflection. Nothing but bra, underwear and wedges on.

You stood up straight, breathing in and relishing in the confidence that slowly began to seep into your body. You looked good, now you’ve gotta feel good too. Your phone pinged pulling your attention away from yourself and onto John’s text.

John: Blue. 10:51am. read.

You almost stumbled with how fast you moved to grab your light blue sundress, pulling it over your hips and slipping your arms into straps. Hands grabbing at the strings at the back and pulling so the waist becomes corset like. You tied a bow and slimmed your hands over the material, admiring the little light yellow sunflowers that sat at the bottom when the dress became flowy ending at your knees.

Another texts pings on your phone.

John: I’m outside when you’re ready sweetheart. 10:55am. read.

“Okay deep breaths.” You told yourself, making sure you had everything before heading outside.

And there he was.

A black t-shirt with a blue checkered button down shirt worn as a jacket graced his muscular torso. Loose fitted dark blue jeans and black hiking boots. He was like your own personal cowboy, all that was missing was the hat.

The sight of him nearly made your knees buckle and he could definitely say the same about you. You were stunning in your sundress that just so happened to be his favourite colour. The way you drifted down the steps of your porch to meet him at your gate, the cute little wobble of your legs as you walked.

“Fuck me darlin, so fuckin’ pretty.” He wanted to apologise for his bad language but what can he say, he was stunned and you certainly bring out the more rambunctious side of him.

You smile wide, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. The air fluttered with anticipation, the way his heated gaze stared down at you. He leaned forward, getting closer, blue eyes flickering to your lips. So close. But then you hear the latch on your gate lift with a creak before he opens the gate for you to step out.

You do so with a pout that has John grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Look at you, pouting all cute just because I didn’t kiss you, he wants to say but all he can choke out is a grumbly, “Look at you”.

“So where are we going?” You nibble on your lip, anxiousness threatening to take over but you will it not to let it affect you or this moment with him.

“I have a little place in mind, c’mon.” He holds out his hand looking at you to take it. But suddenly you’re frozen, time standing still while your tired and frazzled brain takes a minute to process the situation.

John studies you and almost immediately understands that this is a big decision for you. How much must you have suffered to consider taking someone’s hand as a big decision. He waits patiently, no foot tapping, no sighing. Just pure patients while he watches you work out the issue in that brain of yours.

How he’d love to know what you’re thinking, your eyes glazed over with a similar look to what Simon had when he first met him. Before he got comfortable. He doesn’t have to wait long until you’re reaching to grab his hand. He smiles like a little triumph had just occurred before escorting you into his truck.

The drive was short which you were grateful for due to the hot weather. Only a few more weeks and the days would be shorter and the weather colder. You couldn’t wait.

John helped you out of the truck keeping hold of your hand as he walked you towards what looked like a cafe. It was cute and quiet. You spotted a salted caramel frappe on the menu that made your eyes light up, it was the first thing John ordered.

You waited for the food to be cooked and drinks to be made, the nervous jittery feelings you had bubbling in your system this morning was nowhere to be found now. Not when John looked every bit of a man you’d ever dreamed of, not when he picked up the tray after swatting your hand away from it gently, not when he chose to sit next to you instead of opposite just so he could continue to hold your hand under the table.

First dates always end bad, but maybe this one’s an exception.

[ellesthots]

code of ethics

iii. “possessive”

read on AO3 🤎

parts: previous / next

plot: things become a bit easier between you and your professor (now mentor)—but something isn't adding up.

pairing: professor!bruce wayne x student!reader

cw: 18+

word count: 3k

a/n: listened to 'bad decisions' and 'hands on me' by ariana grande on loop while writing this—if this were my main fic, i would've written like fifty bajillion scenes of lusting and personal time, but this is a miniseries, so, we move right along! trying new things <3

A one-on-one mentorship didn’t require a classroom, so you found yourself sitting across from Professor Wayne in his minuscule office. Evidently, billionaire or not, every faculty member got the same 100-square foot space that left barely enough room for one student in addition to a desk, filing cabinet, and two chairs. Deep brown tones filled his office, making it appear stuffy. 

You felt awful watching him squeeze into his tiny seat across from you; had he opted for the smaller seat so you could have room? Surely the higher-ups could accommodate him. Like you’d spoken aloud, he apologized while hunting through his desk. 

“Emailed the admin about booking a conference room, but they’ve yet to get back to me. Hopefully,” he pulled out a bottom drawer, a small, satisfied sound slipping past his lips that made you sit straighter. “They’ll respond soon, and we can get somewhere more comfortable.” 

Comfortable. You’d repeated that word like a mantra in the mirror as you picked your outfit for the first day. Against your better judgment, you’d gone with sweats and a tee; unprofessional, you’d chastised, but wearing anything else felt promiscuous. Hyperaware of how tightly the jeans hugged your waist and ass—and oh, god, you avoided your skirts like your life depended on it—you’d landed on a perfectly comfortable pair of thick, cozy sweatpants. You tugged at a loose thread as your focus landed on his hands. 

Blue was the color he’d chosen for his pen. Not black, not red, but a cool, even blue. How sweet. You pulled at the thread harder. 

“Do you have topic ideas?” 

“Yes.” Dutifully, you slid a folder out of the backpack you’d obsessively cleaned the night prior. Smooth manila protected your typed list, ranging from strict academia to looser creative pursuits. You pushed the paper to him, heart pounding. 

He stared, his head cocked slightly. He looked to you, the paper, then slid it back. “Which are you passionate about?”

“I thought we’d look over them and decide together,”

He shook his head, lips pressed in a thin line. You felt what he wasn’t saying. “I won’t be the one writing it. It should be about what you want.”

Your professor held out his pen, and your fingers brushed as you took it. It was weighty in your hand, and you very well could’ve imagined it, but the cushion where his fingers had been held warmth. His big, long, warm hands… they were what you wanted. Manicured nails caught your attention, and you bit back an audible ‘of course’. His hygiene was impeccable. What else did you expect from a man like him? Was he manicured elsewhere? 

“Circle the topics you’re most interested in. If you still need my help,” yes, I do, “then we’ll talk.” 

You knew it would be bad after the break you had, but not this bad. You were achingly aware, in fact, following out of the corner of your eye while you pretended to deliberate topics, that he’d switched his usual sweater for a button-up. With the top two buttons undone. 

Focus. 

You snuck another look, and he caught your eye with a curious squint. 

FOCUS!

In truth, none of the topics genuinely interested you. Scouring his faculty page online, you’d gone down his research and found topics he was engaged with, and went from there. Sitting only a few inches from him now, your play felt embarrassingly obvious. It could’ve been minutes or could’ve been hours, but nothing was circled, or underlined, and the pressure in the room shifted. 

“I don’t like any of these,” you admitted, once again feeling like a child owning up to a Big Mistake. What would the slap on the wrist be? Sending you home early? Emphasizing that you really needed to take this class seriously, only making you feel worse? 

Instead, he bridged the space between you. The depth of his blue eyes this close had you genuinely worried you’d drown. “If you had to write the paper right now, and no one would read it, what would you write about?”

You hoped he couldn’t feel the heat emanating off your cheeks, and fought to keep your voice steady. “But you will read it.” 

“I’m here to support, not punish.” He lingered a moment, holding your gaze so firmly that a small gasp escaped when he sat back against his chair. “The process will be more enjoyable if it’s a subject you want to dig into, and your writing will be better for it.” 

It’d been hard enough getting grades back throughout undergrad knowing someone had read what you wrote, perceived you, judged you. It was an entirely new thing when the single most attractive, naturally charismatic man you’d ever seen was judging it in real time, intimately. If you didn’t know him, and had seen him on the opposite end of the same coffee shop, you would’ve hightailed it out of there, holding your breath—never would you have even thought it an option to approach him. 

Yet here you were, mandated to share a teensy room with the object of such desire. 

“This isn’t like last term. This course is about development and revision, pass no pass.”

“Alright.” It didn’t settle the rhapsody that threatened to overwhelm you, but nothing would in his presence. He appeared to attune to your continued hesitance at once. 

“What makes you afraid of me reading it?” 

That you’ll think less of me. “You’ll think it’s elementary.”

“Pick whichever topic without regard for how I might receive it.” He waved his hand over the carefully crafted options. “Or pick from the assembly of my research credits you collected there.” 

Crap. Of course he could tell. 

It took you the rest of the class, but you finally selected your paper topic. When you shared it, Professor Wayne’s eyes flashed, and after your internal recoil, you noticed him grin. “It’ll certainly make for an interesting essay.” 

You shifted in the chair, the space between you and the shared desk seeming too tight. “Bad or good?”

“Neutral.”

He’d been too thoughtful when he said it. Pause… ‘neutral’. “A professional way to say ‘bad’ without hurting my feelings?” An hour spent with him and your filter was slowly removing itself. A smidgen of bravery gathered within you, though you couldn’t imagine how with the adrenaline-spiked overwhelm at how fucking perfect he was.

“Seems to be your Achilles heel, Y/n.” He stood, somehow managing to pull on his coat in the meager space. His perfect hair fell perfectly around his ears, swishing slightly as the jacket’s collar grazed it. “A harsh inner critic will only get you so far.” 

“Mm.” Your throat went dry as he towered over you. It was as if he’d plucked last night’s fantasies from your bedroom. Now, just press his hands onto the desk… lean closer… tell me he wants to…

“I mean it.” 

You bit your lip, blinking at warp speed. “Yeah?” Too pitchy, shit.

He nodded, oh, even just a nod… and it was only the first day! “Almost dropped out of my doctoral program twice.” 

“No way.” 

He grabbed his mug, and your eyes trained on the movement. Does Professor Wayne know all I can think about is his hands on me? “Overthought my dissertation from the day of admission. Didn’t think I could measure up.” 

Him having anything outside of strict confidence was so shocking it pulled you out of your lust. “And?” 

“Now I get this spacious office all to myself.” 

Your cheeks hurt from the slope of your grin, digging into the apples of your cheeks. The man was endearing; certainly more than he’d been a term prior. Was it pitying? Did he see you as fragile? Because good god, you wanted him to break you.

“My point being: I had to write it despite my concerns. Follow where my mind went. Learn to trust it.” 

“How did you?” If you could mimic a single crumb of how he moved so effortlessly through the world—billionaire near-miss-A-list-celebrity notwithstanding—you’d take it. Managing a string of conversation that didn’t make your core tighten would be helpful, too. 

“Trusted my supervisors. That if I were truly out of line, someone would’ve told me.” He walked around the desk toward the door, but stopped between you and it. The noise got harder to ignore, but you managed. 

“Like you did last term.”

“A bit kinder than that, I’ll admit.” He gestured for you to lead the way out of his office, and you shakily got up from your chair to follow orders. You stalled in the slim, empty hallway, lit mostly by passing headlights through the window at its end. 

He clicked the lock and strode just ahead. “You have a strong voice. It’s a shame you’re not trusting it.” 

His smooth speech was beginning to genuinely unravel you. If he’d been speaking to you like this in his office, when you had to stare into his face instead of at his broad, flowing shoulders… 

“I just can’t believe you ever felt that way. You seem like you knew all this stuff from birth.” 

He tossed a look back at you, the whisper of a smirk wearing his mouth. “That’s the trick, isn’t it?”

Mmm…

Professor Wayne held the door open for you into the building’s main hallway, and you hugged the folder tight to your chest as you skirted past. “Come with an outline for next week’s session.”

“Will-do.” Your voice was too deep, thrown, almost ragged.

“Hopefully we’ll have a more accommodating room by then.” 

You did not have a bigger room for the rest of the term. 

“Wonderful.” 

He handed your essay back without comment, which was too confusing to internalize his praise. “No edits?”

“Stellar paper.” 

“Like, I’d get 100 if I turned it in for a grade?”

“I’d invite you to TA on the back of the rubric.”

“Shit.”

If you had to pinpoint the moment you and Professor Wayne’s communication had become less rigid, it might’ve been at the reveal of his dissertation insecurity. Or two weeks later when he made an offhand joke about being an orphan, and his cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink when it didn’t land. 

Either way, things had become easy. For the last day, you’d brought him a coffee. With sessions being in the evening, you usually showed up with water or the occasional herbal tea; however, as your roommate made customary for the end of a term, you were headed straight for the club after. A latte for you, black coffee for him. 

And a pastry, as a parting gift. 

“What now? Since I’m apparently perfect?” You tapped your fingers against your exposed thighs, the minidress you’d thrown on only covered from the waist-up by a baggy sweater. Things were pleasant between you two, sure, but that didn’t mean you didn’t ache watching his lips curve around the edge of his cup, or linger when he rolled the cuffs of his sleeve. 

He checked the clock, and you attuned to the movement of his waist when he shifted. You’d miss this. His tiny office that made you both sweat, his dry one-liners, the perfume of citrus and musk that followed you on your walks home. 

“Guess you get out half an hour early.” A bit curt of a nod, you noted, but it could’ve been in your head. 

What wasn’t in your head, however, was how he didn’t rise to follow you out the door. You withheld a pout as you tucked your folder into your bag and stood. It was your favorite time of the week getting guided down the hall with him. It felt delightfully possessive; he was your mentor, you were his student. 

“Not coming?” One hand on the doorknob, watching as he glanced halfway up at you, then quickly back to his desk. 

His voice went quieter. “Have finals to grade.”

“That’s why my paper has no errors?” You teased. “Antsy to finish?”

“Have a good night.”

No joking, no awkwardly-delivered story about some niche aspect of his personal life: nothing. 

With a level of awkwardness that hadn’t existed since the first meeting in ethics, you caught his hint for you to leave, and left. The hallway felt massive without him guiding you, the walls colder. What the fuck?

The walk home was quick, his TA comment stuck like glue. The first order of business when you slumped into bed involved pulling out your laptop to peruse the class listings. After such a lackluster goodbye, you figured you could make up for it through another term. A jarring crack in your chest festered when you considered the possibility of that being your last ever interaction.

Ethics 511: Ethics Matters, An Explanation of Moral Qualities (TA)

Time: Wednesdays 4-6:40pm

Faculty: Bruce Wayne

Seats: 0/1 [OPEN]

You slammed it shut and paced the room, drawing an invisible pros and cons list, a frustrating experience that ended with you flipping it back open, wildly moving your cursor to the REGISTER button, and clicking SUBMIT with your eyes closed. 

The computer made a bad sound. 

Registration Locked: Requires Instructor Approval.

“Hey, Professor Wayne.”

He glanced at the yellow office slip in your hand and sighed. “The assistant position is no longer open.”

“Oh!” Your spine tingled at his flat affect, disappointment disorienting you. With one term left, this had been your single opportunity to work with him again. “Damn. It wouldn’t let me sign up online.” Had it gotten sniped in the two days it took the office to get back to you with the override form? 

He didn’t look over, opting to concentrate on whatever lay within his notebook. Right off the bat, it was apparent you were a nuisance. Your stomach twisted into a knot. 

You parted your lips to speak, but nothing came of it. Fuck. Say anything. 

“Get a conference room yet for your new mentee—”

“Sorry to cut you short, but I have a deadline to meet.”

He didn’t sound sorry. He wouldn’t even look at you, and practically cut off the last syllable of your sentence. 

You swallowed back bile and a thousand other questions. It was a knife to the heart that you weren’t worth looking at for two fucking seconds now that he wasn’t obligated to teach you. At least you’d go out politely. Kindly. Maybe that could be enough. You faked a cheery grin. “Good luck!” 

“Have a good evening.”

Invisible bruises peppered your skin moving down the hallway from his classroom. Reduced to tears once again, like the past three months hadn’t even happened. Prideful, you leaned against the wall before the exit and searched the schedule to double-check.

Ethics. 511. Ethics Matters. An Explanation of Moral Qualities. (TA). Wednesdays. 4-6:40. Faculty: Bruce Wayne.

Seats: 0/1 [OPEN]

You stomped back to his classroom, pausing for a beat at the door to catch your breath and reign in tears. Clenched fists at your sides. Biting your cheek. It didn’t make sense. He always made sense.

Peeking through the window panel, Professor Wayne looked beaten; his posture hunched over the desk unlike he ever sat. He ran a stiff hand through his hair, and the huff of his exhale ruffled the papers below him. He adjusted uncomfortably.

He seemed… flustered. Strung-out. You pressed the pushbar.

“Did I do something wrong?”

He startled like a gun had been shot, but his recovery was smooth. You thought an additional button had been loosened on his shirt. “I’m immersed in my work.” 

“Did you just pass me and say all that because I cried at the midterm?”

His shoulders dropped in disillusionment, and you tensed. He squeezed the words past his teeth. “You did good work. Now let me get back to mine.”

Vulnerability spilled out of you, your voice cracking. “I just—”

“Y/n.” His voice was firm, an edge creeping in. 

“You acted like I would be the perfect candidate. Classes start next week.” 

“I no longer need an assistant.”

“I just checked, and it still says ‘open’ online.”

“I’ll get it changed.”

“This doesn’t seem—”

“Let it go.” He glared at you while he said it, as fiery and brutal as swallowing hot coal. 

“So it is something.” Whatever window he’d opened for you was bolted shut, and it felt like it snapped off a finger as he slammed it. He faced his desk, an absent stare at the empty monitor. His silence was the final brick, and you chewed on your cheek as hot, angry tears wet your lashes. He didn’t respect you enough to even tell you why. 

He repeated himself, weaker this time. “I no longer need an assistant.”

You stepped closer, and his shoulders drew inward. What the hell was his problem? 

“Hi,” another student maneuvered around you to set up at the desk in front of his. Precisely where you’d chosen the first day of ethics. You could’ve fallen to your knees as she took your seat. “I hope I’m not interrupting, I wanted to go over expectations for the mentorship next term when you’re available.”

“We were just finishing, Isabel.” 

So much for his deadline.

The ease of the last term sat differently in your chest. Had it been so relaxed because he hadn’t actually cared? You stopped yourself before scowling at the woman—it wasn’t her fault she was his next mentee, but god, jealousy nipped at the tips of your fingers as she rose from her seat and walked toward what used to be yours. His attention, his consideration, his time; his eyes, his scent, the way your name sounded in his mouth…

“Appreciate the transparency, Professor.” You spun on your heel and left without looking back. Fuck him.

taglist: @noisylime, @serynstorylover, @crayzmarvelfan800, @dreamer7black, @sad-ghouls, @smellingbats

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

well I finally did it.

first of all merry christmas and enjoy the chapter

Dear family

This may be sudden... I don't even know why I'm writing this letter anymore, it was supposed to be about the big decision I made that would change my life, but even so I don't know why I'm leaving explanations.

My plan was always to never see you again, each of you, I still feel very hurt by everything, although I know that these words will not make a big change in you.

But enough berating them, I'm not racking my brain to find the right words for a letter full of complaints.

I was always a girl who avoided problems or at least I like to think I was, Father, brothers and my dear confidant Alfred, despite getting into big trouble.

The lights were flashing brightly, the music at full volume filled the room, it was very hot due to the sweat that all the bodies were emanating, you watched all the visitors of the club go crazy with euphoria after a few drinks and continued with a long list of crazy things, you On the contrary, you decided that it was one of those depressive days, where you spent your time seeing the bad side of everything and being miserable.

You didn't follow your friends to any of their craziness; on the contrary, you stayed in a place at the bar away from everyone, along with a few glasses full of a low-grade cherry-flavored liquor.

You still taste the light cherry flavor on your palate. There were so many liquors on the shelf, many of different sizes, appearances, names, years and strengths, you wondered if anyone ever drank them all, if there was a person who in his miserable, boring, short life provokes every liquor on the restaurant's menu. bar.

You looked away when you heard the sound of a chair being moved, you saw a man taller than yours, with a somewhat abrupt but attractive appearance. You took another sip from your glass and returned to your thoughts as you watched the people on the dance floor doing stupid things.

Or so you tried, but by discreetly observing the actions of the man near your seat, it was enough to capture your full attention, to what that guy does in his notebook with his pencil.

“What an artist,” you addressed the subject sitting one seat away from you, “what are you doing in a place as crazy as this?” You turned your gaze to the man with blue-black hair, as you watched him take a sip of his drink and draw with his pencil.

Their eyes connected when the man decided to leave his world and pay attention to your beginning of interaction, he couldn't look away in time, although you didn't blame him, you did the same before because of the curiosity you felt when he saw him, you felt like everything was coming together.

He paused, just him and you, as if the two of you were the only ones in a large room of strangers.

A smile left your lips when you saw the man's dazed attitude, he was so lost in himself that it seems that he forgot about your beginning of conversation until a moment later.

Still, you were afraid that it wasn't nerves that the man was feeling but anger or annoyance at your interaction with him.

“Even if you don't believe it, inspiration can be found in unlikely places… Or even sometimes a muse” came those calm words from his thick but reassuring and animated voice.

You were relieved to hear him speak, but those words that had no sign of annoyance or complaints.

“uhh it's like that... I only saw this place as a garbage dump full of vices” you didn't know how you were still trying to maintain an interaction with that person, perhaps prolonging the feeling of company instead of the one of loneliness sounded more attractive.

“You should look at it from other perspectives, so you'll find things like this” you saw him tear a page out of his notebook without blinking and put it on your forehead.

You were surprised to see your drawing on the paper. Every feature of yours delicately captured with each stroke of the pencil on the paper.

“wow you left me speechless for a moment” you disconnected your gaze from the sheet you had in your hands.

“You are actually a great artist” the drawing was extremely beautiful, you never considered yourself a very beautiful woman, it was common for you to see all your flaws before your best qualities, seeing that paper where you felt that in that drawing you were perfect caused you a feeling emotion and a passing confidence.

However, you couldn't get it out of your head to see yourself drawn in other ways on paper, like a cartoon or Japanese version of yourself; before this moment, you never even had the chance to sit on a bench and wait for an artist to draw you. .

“What's wrong with that face, you look disappointed, maybe you're kidding me” you heard him joke.

“No no… no… on the contrary, I really like it” you quickly defended yourself, afraid of offending the man.

“It's just that..” you felt shy when explaining your reasons, especially when he had an attentive gaze on you.

You saw his eyes wait expectantly for your words.

“You know, the drawing is beautiful, but… even though it sounds silly, I wish I could see myself more in a cartoon or comic” you laughed nervously, after your babbling.

“ahh, are you a comic book lover or something?”

“Yes, well it's something like that” you liked to read some series in comic magazines from time to time, but you preferred mangas, you hid this preference, you weren't going to receive a few words of displeasure for that or start a debate about what genre it was.

Better, much less explain what they were if I didn't know what you were referring to.

“I think I can fix that,” the guy said with an animated and funny voice.

You watched him, fascinated, by how he held his book with enthusiasm, his hands moved quickly from one side to the other on the white sheet, the pencil was handled quickly, you could tell that he had a lot of experience with the ease with which he did it.

It was a long night, between different conversations and laughter with the new guy you met, the night became more tolerable with the man by your side.

Between drinks and meaningless talks, laughter on both sides, silly dances on the floor full of people, just two fools doing the most pathetic steps they had plus some little improvised old waltzes, it ended in a new day with two sleepless but falices talking in a viewpoint of a building that showed the entire city.

Oh, father, you don't know how enchanted I was with that man I met on one of my many outings to parties, I was stupid and childish, but I still allowed myself to dream and love.

You didn't expect to meet again with such a man with whom you managed to connect, but that's how it happened, destiny somehow led them to meet.

You liked having a new person in your circle, with whom you managed to get along so well.

From talking about his work as an artist, giving his opinion on different comics and mangas that they knew, talking about animation to becoming hoarse from speaking with so much emotion and passion with long monologues.

They visited many hidden places in the big city in their days of adventures, even if they were alleys that were not very crowded, now that you think about it, such a careless action was very crazy, but the beautiful places, with new views, like an alley full of colorful fabrics and with different designs that hung over the street, the walls of a neighborhood full of drawings with different artistic techniques, but with many bright colors, the tall buildings that showed views of the entire city.

The days of movies with crazy plots, but that had you glued to the screen to see what happened next.

The rare meals from the carts or street stalls, which they consumed without problems while they sat to observe the lights of the city or the dark sky, accompanied by silence, but the two of them together.

In that moment where the two were together and talking, you felt that they were exchanging many words of great importance to both of them, but seen from other perspectives they were nothing more than insignificant.

That's what love did, right?

And all for one crazy night where you hope to go crazy on alcohol, after sinking into a self-compose for your life.

You will never be able to forget when he gave you his name and you gave him yours... well, half of it, you admit to having lied to him, even if you regretted it, you already knew the problems they would bring you later.

Well at least that's what you thought, you had no idea of ​​the true consequences.

You only thought about the fear of telling him your real last name, that he would look for you and know who you really were, you were afraid that he would see you differently, no longer a strange girl he met in a bar, but the daughter of a millionaire with a history. questionable life, the mere thought of him using you was too much.

So you avoided him by mentioning the amazing last name “Wayne” and mentioning a fake one.

More specifically, that of your false identification, something crazy that you did in your wild adolescence was left to be useful in your future, that false identification that you made with your friends from school to visit different clubs, you used it when you became independent, so that no one It will bother you in your new life.

“_____ , _____ Jones” unsurely you stated your name, you still remember when you made the false identifications with your friends and among all of them you were looking for a new name and surname for the others, you kept your name and they gave you the last name of the protagonist of the book of fashionable at the time because of the film that adapted the story.

A mental chuckle caused you to remember this along with the taunts they threw at you about where your diary was.

“Kayle, Kyle Rayner,” the boy smiled as he introduced himself.

You followed his smile, something in his ended up infecting you. Just two fools in a bar telling each other their names and being ignorantly happy.

It's a shame that that happiness ended some time later, when you never saw Kyle again. Even with a card for him to contact you, you never heard from him.

You woke up happy, in his apartment, the day after spending a night together, alone, without any sign that the man was home, without any note or notice, you waited excitedly for him to return, but he never did, even when you left a message. letter and ways for me to contact you again if the ones they already had didn't work, you never knew anything.

Maybe it was all an adventure and you got carried away... they never clarified what they were, hell maybe he didn't even consider you a friend.

But you and I know, father, that all the fairy tales one creates end quickly, most of the time in the worst ways.

I ended up with a broken heart, still, I kept good memories... and her.

I know it is late, very late, as it has been for many years, but I must confess it, because no parents and siblings would want to know it in the worst possible ways….

Alice Wayne, my dear baby….

You leaned back in your chair as you wrote the last sentence, you did it, you wrote what was overwhelming you so much, the beginning of the letter.

Your eyes burned, a few treacherous tears running down your face.

Your family, your passing love and your beloved daughter always made you sensitive.

It wasn't something you could avoid.

You leaned your head on the headboard of the chair, letting all the blood flow to your head, something strange you used to do to clear your head, you looked at the ceiling and the walls around you upside down.

You noticed the crib on the side of the room near your desk where you were writing.

You saw your baby sleeping calmly, a peaceful face with no signs of discomfort, he was an angel.

Your little angel, and your light... you knew you would do anything for her, like you did right now.

I think if we are similar in some way father.

I ended up having a daughter through carelessness like you did to me.

I need to ask you a big favor father and not only of you but also of the whole family, the biggest and most important one I will do in my life.

If something happens to me... if I end up in big trouble or I no longer exist, any situation that prevents me from taking care of my beloved daughter.

Please watch over her.

Make sure she has the best future, a happy life with everything she needs, that she can grow up as a girl full of light, that she is always kind, wise and with a loving family.

If that's not something they can give you, find someone who can give it to you.

Take care of my treasure, my only happiness, my only family... I know I left a long time ago without saying anything and returned in a hurry to their lives.

Maybe one day they will call me selfish knowing the path I took to leave little Alice to them, the decision I decided to make was not easy, but I did it because I want the best for my little light.

We are all selfish and mean, I was all my life, since I knew that my happiness only depended on me, that I was alone in this world, that only oneself can save oneself.

I think I still am by thinking that I can force them to do something about my problem, I can't force them to take care of someone or take responsibility for a short period of time, turning their lives upside down.

But maybe... with all the love and affection that you could ever see felt for me, I can make you consider helping me and fulfilling my difficult request.

Father, brothers and Alfred... I never said it because of all the anger I felt, because of everything that happened in the mansion, which devastated my thoughts with a lot of anger, forgetting everything I had and made me have a comfortable and pampered life.

Thank you.

Well, he's the father and maybe a future yandere, it's a possibility.

after an exhaustive investigation into possible characters to occupy this role in the series.

although there may be other possibilities with other characters....

Like I tried with the penguin's son, if ___ had decided to hang out more with villains and they adopted her or became her godparents.

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000 @con seguridad

[cherrycranes]

A Real Man (Jim x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Jim (The Delinquent Season) x Fem!Reader Summary: Dating apps frustrate you. However, one night you decide to try something new and match with an older man. Word count: 4,105 Contents: (Minors DNI). Jim is divorced here. Age gap (Reader is in her 20's, Jim is 43), Oral sex (fem receiving), P in v, unprotected sex, creampie. Author's notes: Another collab with @fuckiingloser cause we are such a dream team! Expect more collabs with her cause she's so amazing. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Enjoy!

It was another dull Friday night with no plans. Your last relationship had ended 6 months ago and since then you hadn't been into going out with your old mutual friends. So once more, you found yourself laying on the couch in pajamas watching reality TV and eating a frozen pizza. Six episodes later, even your favorite show had started to bore you. Enough to make you open the Tinder app. 

You had a complicated relationship with it. Constantly deleting and redownloading it in an ever disappointing vicious cycle. Tonight, it was back on square one as you started to swipe through… Just to look of course. 

Unimpressed, you scrolled through the endless profiles of dozens of men you had seen multiple times before. The same guys holding a fish in their profile pictures, the same boring bios, the same social void. Bored with what you saw, a daring idea crossed your mind: going into the settings and raising the age limit… Why not? 

A whole new sea of men popped up in front of your eyes and you started to swipe through, mindlessly scrolling and reading through mundane responses and cringy pickup lines. Until one guy piqued your interest… 

Jim, 43, 2 miles away…

He had very few pictures and minimal responses, but fuck, he was insanely hot. The gentle smile, the pale blue eyes, the dark brown hair with some silvery strands here and there.. You swiped right. 

You browsed a bit more before setting your phone down on the couch. Another episode of your show had started to play and your gaze migrated from one screen to another. Ten minutes later, the sound of the notification made you return.

1 new match and message from Jim. Start convo!

Usually, you would have just swiped, but you felt compelled to message back for some inexplicable reason that just felt right. You opened the app to his message:

“hey… hope your friday night is going well x”

You smiled a little reading the cute message, an adorable reminder that this Jim guy was older. Still, it was that same cuteness that drew your thumbs to the screen and made your brain search for the perfect response. Ideally something cute and casual.

“hey to you too & my fridays good just bored at home. what are you up to?” You sent. Not even 30 seconds passed before you got another message from him. 

“just at home as well… not big on going out, prefer to stay home with a nice cabernet and listen to a few records.”

He responded simply and your smile widened. You looked over at your own pile of records displayed in your living room before returning to the conversation. He was older, sweet and you had a shared interest? Promising. Before you could respond another message popped up:

“forgive me if this is too forward…im not familiar with dating app etiquette.. first day but would you like to come over? just drinks and talking… if not totally okay too.”

Your first reaction after the initial surprise was an obvious no. It seemed logical. He was a stranger and you had just matched a few minutes ago. But another look at his pictures planted the benefit of the doubt in your mind… His sweet shy smile… The soft brown hair… Perhaps going over for just one drink wouldn't be bad. He was only 2 miles away and all your friends had your location. Besides, you felt lonely and he was definitely very cute… 

“i’d like that, what’s your address?” 

You responded. Perhaps a risky decision that, in the best case scenario, would help you to put yourself out there. Optimism had to crawl its way into your brain for this. Your previous misfortune with dating apps and guys your age acting as a key motivator. Maybe trying with an older man could give you a nice surprise.

Now decided, you got up from the couch and freshened up. You did your make up, hair and changed outfits. Changing the comfy pajamas for a pair of black jeans and a cropped green button up sweater that showed off your cleavage just right and left a little stripe of your midriff showing.

The message notification with his address greeted you just as you picked up your phone again. His apartment was a brief walk away from yours.

“be there in 15 minutes”

You messaged back, eyes back on the mirror for some final touches before finally heading out.

The walk was peaceful enough for you to process everything. Your understandable nerves soothed by your own excitement and the thrill of trying something different for a change. All the fears that could have plagued your head willingly subdued to curiosity. The beat of your heart sped up when you reached the door number indicated on your screen and you gave the wood a couple of soft knocks.

Lo and behold, those beautiful eyes greeted you not long after, along with that charming soft smile that was definitely worth the risk already. Jim was wearing a cozy black sweater and his glasses. His soft brown hair fell perfectly over his forehead. It was long enough to have some cute flicks curving up the side of his handsome face. You couldn't help but return the smile.

“Please, come in.” His voice was deep, warm, with the right amount of maturity to it. His stance and mannerisms were inviting and trustworthy. Something about him spelled  “comforting” as he held the door open for you and kindly indicated to you where you could put your shoes.

Up the stairs was this man's living room. Just as you imagined, it suited him to perfection. It was neat and well put together. The color palette was dusky and masculine but not in a threatening way. He was rather practical judging by his choice of furniture.

“Your place is nice.” You complimented, taking a look around. Jim smiled, making his way to his kitchen and coming back to you with a brand new bottle of wine and a glass for you. To accompany the one already set on the sleek coffee table.

“Thanks.” He looked at you with a soft smile and led you over to the chic leather couch. “Only been here about a year or so, still trying to make my space my own.” He sat down, facing you. With expertise he opened the wine bottle and poured a perfect measure in your glass.

“Cabernet Sauvignon from 2019.” He explained, the warm little smile never leaving his lips as he now poured himself some. You nodded, choosing to ignore your own ignorance about wine. The sips you both took right after assured you that you didn’t really need to know anyways, as he had great taste. For the night, you were all set in the drinks department.

“So… I have to ask… Is this what you do to all of your tinder dates?” You chuckled, lightening the mood a little.

“Fancy bottle of wine, moody lighting and records?”. He laughed a bit, and you discovered just how attractive a laugh could be. “No, actually I've never had a tinder date before tonight… I made my profile this morning.”

You raised your eyebrows a little, finding it quite shocking.

“Really?” You asked him and soon, you knew the reason why. Jim explained his past, telling you how he used to be married and had two children. He had been divorced for about a year now. You listened carefully, finding his openness quite refreshing.

“I'm sorry, that was probably too much heavy information for a first date huh?” Jim shook his head a little at himself, and you intervened.

“No… Don’t apologize.” You looked right into his baby blue eyes behind his glasses with earnesty. “I appreciate the honesty… Hard to find nowadays in men.”

He smiled, his demeanor shifting a little, something about him relaxing.

“Well, good.. I wouldn't want to say anything to blow it so fast with you.” Your heart skipped a beat upon hearing that. A very gentle warmth rose to your cheeks and made you look away in shyness. Your eyes found his record collection as a brand new target to focus on.

“I actually… Collect records too.” You uttered, finding your cool again. You glanced back at him and found that his eyes had lightened up a bit. 

“Ah, really? I love that… You can pick out the next one we play if you want.” He talked softly and you were all smiles. You set your glass of wine down on the coffee table and walked over to his well organized shelves. He separated his records by artist. The ones whose discography you knew by heart telling you that he sub-organized by order of release. You felt something fluttering inside you every time you saw a title you adored. 

His eyes were on you at every moment, studying your shape and colors while your fingers ran over the spines of the records. Finally, one won the selection game and you carefully pulled it out, showing it to him. He smiled, clearly satisfied.

“Good choice… Let me put it on.” He got up from the couch and walked over to you, taking the record from you gently. The touch of his hand met yours and butterflies ran rampant in you. His soft smirk and warm gaze multiplied them.

“Beautiful and has great taste…” He mused. “I’m a lucky guy.” The record met the player and the first track started as Jim led you back to the couch. He topped off your wine glasses and smiled, more than comfortable in your presence.

The wine bottle ran out after a while. The conversation led through a relaxed and flirty direction. Jim was smart, kind, understanding and so handsome. Your body felt the magnetism between you. When you next noticed, you two were closer than before, your eyes sneaked several glances towards his pink lips and the record you had chosen started to play its last track. You had been talking for over an hour. The fastest one of your life.

It had been half a year since you felt this drawn to somebody. The same amount of time since you had last gotten laid. Perhaps it was the wine, but you felt a heat boiling deep between your legs that clung desperately to the prospect of him touching you.

“You know… I’d be lying if I said I didn't find you incredibly sexy…” He confessed in a soft, sultry murmur and with a heavenly smile. He took another sip, those eyes of his never lost sight of you.

“I'd be lying if I said I didn't think the exact same.” You replied, the wine feeding into your boldness. 

“Do you usually like older men?” He asked bluntly with a soft smirk, eager for your answer.

“Honestly, I've really only ever dated guys around my age. But, I’ve always been interested in older men… Just haven’t given it a proper go… Until now that is.” You admitted with a little laugh that prompted one from him too.

“Well… I’m glad you took a chance and came over, gorgeous…” Jim’s words felt like rich velvet in your ears and like an intoxicating need that made you burn. “I'd love to show you how being with a real man can feel…” He whispered, putting his large hand on your thigh over your jeans. 

The action, combined with his voice and his gaze made your pussy clench around nothing and dampen eagerly. The wine, the flirting, the proximity, the last notes of the song. It all got to you two. His thumb slowly moved back and forth over the denim. His hand stayed planted on your thigh rubbing it so softly. 

“Show me… Don’t just tell me…” You whispered back sensually, taking in the depth of his eyes.

Without another word he leaned forward and captured your lips in a hot, searing kiss. So slow yet so passionate. Incomparable to any kiss you had received in your lifetime. His big hand moved up to cradle your cheek and you melted into it. After a few minutes he gently pulled back just to whisper against your lips:

“I'd love to have a taste of your sweet little cunt…”

Your brain went absolutely blank for a moment, trying to process. When you did, you bit your lip and reminiscenced before looking back at him.

“My ex hated doing it..” You admitted with a soft little chuckle. It was ridiculous now even if back then it was a major frustration of yours. Jim, on the other hand, shook his head and scoffed gently.

“That's a boy… Not a man… Let me show you how a real man pleases a beautiful woman...” He whispered and slowly pushed you back onto the couch, laying you down. You looked up at him, finding him smiling as he undid the button of your jeans followed by your zipper. Careful hands tugged the denim down your legs and tossed them on the otherwise cleared floor.

“I want to see this sexy body…” He leaned over to you, his breath caressing your exposed skin and his hands patiently working the buttons of your sweater. He pushed it open, revealing your black lace bra. His eyes raked over the shape, a low growl of approval rumbled in his throat. The slightly calloused tips of his fingers traced slowly over the lace and down to your stomach, stopping right at the hem of your matching thong.

“Jesus, you’re a vision… You’ve got me hard as a rock” He practically groaned to you and your eyes fell to his obvious hard on through his pants. Before you gathered the correct words to respond, Jim laid his head between your legs and planted a soft kiss over your clothed pussy, making you moan at the light contact. His hands reached up and pulled your thong off you, as if he was unwrapping the most delicate of presents. 

“Mmm… Look at that… I can see how wet you are already.” He whispered straight to your cunt. “Did I do that?.”

“Yes..” You nodded once and breathed out. Your pulse was deliciously fast and your pussy was already dependent on him.

“I bet you taste even better than you look, pretty girl...” He murmured before licking a fat stripe up your wet folds. You moaned loudly at the feeling. “Mmm” he hummed. “I could spend all night right here…” He whispered the last words of his you would hear in a short while before leaning back in. His hot tongue dove even deeper into your sweet cunt. Your hand immediately found his soft hair and gripped his brown locks, bracing yourself, for he would devour you like you were his last meal on earth.

“Oh-oh my god!” Your cries were as exquisite as your pussy was. His mouth was skilled and ravenous with you. Your hand tightened on his hair when his tongue found its way to your clit and drew perfect circles around it. The electric sensation traveling all over your lower stomach and intensifying when his lips sucked on your tender flesh. He hummed happily at the way you moaned. To keep you in place, he gripped your thighs and pushed them farther apart. Getting deeper. His tongue slided down and circled your entrance with both indulgence and reverence. And you felt your brain melting into a warm puddle of desire.

“God, this cunt is so wet for me… You taste like heaven.” He pulled back to whisper against your folds before diving right back in. 

You moaned loudly, shamelessly, and Jim absolutely loved it. His tongue rewarded you for being such a good little slut for him by sliding deeper inside.

“Oh fuck-“ You cried out in surprise, and he took it as a sign. He worked his way up, nibbling on your clit again and again. Your entire cunt was coated with his spit and your own arousal, The feeling in your lower abdomen was driving you wild, you tugged on his hair. Your orgasm built inside you and threatened to boil over.

“If y-you don’t stop- i’m gonna come.” You cried out to deaf ears. Jim continued to devour you like a starved man, making the filthiest wet noises as he sucked and tongue-fucked you. You squirmed on the couch, and he pulled back just enough to finally talk.

“God, you taste so fuckin good.” He moaned. “Sweet like honey, baby...” He completely ignored what you had just said and dived back in. His swirling tongue drilled against your overwhelmed cunt. The edge of his nose bumped your clit and teased it strategically. This man wanted you to come. He needed you to come for him.

“Oh my god- Jim!” You whined so loudly, you could have sworn the words reverberated in the living room. Your entire body was succumbing to the building pressure, surrendering all control.

“Come for me baby… Come on my tongue.” He urged, as if his life depended on feeling you coming on his mouth. He placed wet kisses on your pussy, encouraging the fire within you. The grip you had on his hair became stinging on his scalp and your legs trembled under his hands. Your entire body tingled as the knot in your depths reached its tightest state.

“I'm coming… I'm coming!” You repeated frantically, desperately. You arched into his mouth and closed your eyes. A loud whorish moan, unheard of from you before blessed his ears and, finally, your intense orgasm satisfied you and his hungry mouth.

“Holy shit.” You breathed out. He lapped your release and practically moaned into your pussy as he did. He licked everything clean and you slowly came down from the height of your orgasm, looking down at him as he finally pulled away. 

He pulled back, kneeling between your legs with a proud wet and sticky mouth. He licked his lips, his eyelashes fluttered at your taste. Finally, he showed you a sexy smirk and whispered sensually:

“I hope this little pussy feels half as good as it tastes…” 

You smiled, and he didn’t beat around the bush. His hands took care of the button on his pants and his zipper.

“Now I need you to be a good girl and sit on my cock… a real man makes his girl come twice...” He nearly growled, pushing his pants down and kicking them off. His boxers followed suit. His cock sprung free in all its glory and you gasped. It was painfully ready and throbbing for you.

“Fuck…” You whispered and he smiled proudly.

“Might be a tight fit… But I'm sure we’ll make it work… Won’t we?” He whispered sensually, his hand touching your thigh. 

“Yes please…” You find yourself saying back to him without even thinking, his sexy confident demeanor putting you in a trance. Something no other man had ever provoked in you.

He smirked and sat down on his couch, his hands taking yours and pulling you right onto his lap. You straddle him, a soft giggle escapes your lips.

“This bra needs to go... Wanna see all of this perfect body…” His voice sounded raspier and his eyes much hungrier. On cue, you unclipped your bra and slowly allowed it to join the rest of your clothes and make a mess out of his living room floor. The sight of your breasts made his beautiful eyes widen and his pupils dilate.

“Fuck, you’re sexy… I need to be inside you.” He thought out loud. A part of him still didn’t believe you were there, completely naked for him, sitting on his lap. 

You looked between you, meeting his hard leaking cock that was so desperate to feel you around it.

“I'm on the pill...” You looked him in the eye. “I want you to come inside…” A mixture of boldness and shyness painted the tone of your voice, and Jim grinned sensually.

“Mmm… Naughty girl… Whatever you want… ” He whispered and you leaned back, your cunt ready to take him in. He lined himself up, teasing you by rubbing his tip against your wet folds and effectively coating himself in you. Finally, you sank down. You both moaned in unison. It was heaven.

“Fuck, you’re tight-” He groaned to you and you sank down. His hands firmly found your hips and guided you down. You moaned in response, biting your lip at the feeling of him stretching your tight cunt. After a second of much needed adjustment, you started riding him in a perfect rhythm. His cock hit you sinfully deep.

With eyes locked, you leaned forward and stole a passionate, sloppy kiss from him, which he eagerly returned. You made out feverishly, his arms wrapping around your body holding you so tight and fucking you good.

Jim pulled back from the kiss, planting his feet on the ground for some much needed leverage before starting to pound ruthlessly from underneath you. You yelped and moaned and bounced on his hard cock.

“You like feelin’ full of my cock?” He asked between heavy panting. “This tight cunt like being stretched out by a real man?”

“Yes-fuck yes…” You moaned to him before moaning once more. He pounded on you so deeply and much faster now. Your hands on his shoulders clung to him for some stability. The sounds of skin slapping became much louder than the record on the player ever was. It was overwhelmingly filthy but incredibly erotic.

As you fucked and kissed harder and harder with each thrust, it became apparent that this was not going to last long. The feeling of your tight, wet pussy was driving him too insane.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy.” He moaned into your mouth, making you nod eagerly.

“Yes-yes please.” You begged him with an intensity sourced from your now throbbing cunt. His movements got sloppier, faster. He plowed into you from below as hard as he could.

 “Jesus- not gonna last long- you feel too good…” Jim was running out of breath, but his hips never faltered. You felt just the same, that feeling inside you building up once more. Decided, he held your hips together, sinking his nails into your flesh and found the energy to pound into you even harder than before, hitting that perfect sweet spot deep inside of you.

You whimpered pathetically at the repeating feeling, your cunt throbbed around him in automatic, making him groan.

“So. Fucking. Deep.” You moaned in between his hard thrusts. “I-I’m gonna come...” Your whimpers came already strained and forceless. The dripping sensation between your bodies made you dangerously close.

“Mmm me too baby… You want me to come deep?” His warm voice was hoarse and strained, his cock twitched inside you whenever you clenched. That deep eye contact and lust intertwined with the feeling of your sweet spot harshly meeting the tip of his cock over and over again. It made your toes curl and your lower stomach tighten. 

Throwing your head back, your pussy clenched him tight. You moaned loud and dug your nails on his skin, the promised second orgasm hitting you hard.

“Come deep..” You begged him with an out of breath voice and shivering legs. Jim’s eyes lit up, watching just how beautiful you looked in that post-orgasmic bliss. It set him off. And watching you beg for his cum completely disarmed him.

“Holy fuck.” He breathed out, feeling his body give in to pleasure. His hips slowed and nested his cock in your depths, right before coming out of control.Your fluids and your breaths mixed together, his perfect blue eyes connected with yours.

His cock pulsed, and he emptied inside you with a soft groan. His lips found yours just barely, lingering there.

“Feels so good to fill you..” He whispered, his hot cum spilling into you. Your hand moved to the back of his head, your fingers in his soft brown locks. Relaxed, you shared a soft sensual kiss, basking in the afterglow of the best sex either of you had ever had. 

Pulling away from the kiss and putting your foreheads together, you sit there naked in his living room. Some drops of his cum dripped onto the leather couch. A few minutes passed and you recovered from your orgasms. Jim gave you a cheeky grin. His fingers tucked a piece of hair behind your ear tenderly before his warm voice whispered softly against your lips.

“So tell me…” He looked deeply into your eyes. “How did it feel to finally be with a real man?”

Btw, by the request of a friend, I also made a c.ai version of this fic for you to choose your own story.

[cherbexr]

Sentinel Prime as...

your music manager??

^^(the readers laughing at how ridiculous this dumbass hc is)

Not really a Sentinel Prime x Reader romantic post

Warnings: Bad language, slight fat shaming, Sentinel Prime

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yeah wtf cherry? what kind of headcanon is this 🤨 Just something a little different!

I like to think that there are different forms of entertainment in Iacon. There's of course the Iacon 5000, but there are other forms like strip clubs and television shows like Iacon's Got Talent.

Sentinel Prime was invited to judge the show, and he took the opportunity to show Iacon how involved he is with the city and how great a leader he is!...

You decided to try for Iacon's Got Talent to show off your awesome vocals! Unknowingly THE Sentinel Prime would be there to judge.

You stepped out on the stage when on cue and a round of applause was heard as you did. You smile and wave and look over to the judges and gasp when you see a stupid smile from a royal blue and golden big ass bot.

You introduced yourself and your talent and after a few moments, you did your thing.

When you were done, whoops and applause were heard again and the judges were impressed.

One judge gave their opinion and the next until it was Sentinel's turn. He probably said some shit about how outstanding you were and yada yada.

"I would like to personally endorse this talented bot and help them prosper!"

Oh! That's great news!

.

.

.

Wait what??

Did he just say he wanted to endorse you?? No way the leader of Iacon wants to endorse you and make you become the singer you've always wanted to be! This is great news! Heck yeah you're accepting that offer!

-------------------------------------------------------

That was the worst decision you've ever made.

This guy literally made you change your paint job to match his. But it can't be the same because Sentinel Prime's color palette is his own palette and nobody can copy it.

Your paint job is probably like a pastel blue and yellow or something along the blue and yellow thing. You have to represent him in some way.

He endorsed you because he wants to show Iacon how a great leader like him can bring up great stars like you! You have to make him look good, perform well, sing well, and look good. Everything has to be perfect because if you make a flaw, you'll make him look bad and a failure of a manager.

He makes you perform at the Iacon 5000 to get his people pumping. Making you do the most over-the-top performances. You have to keep looking back at him for his approval. He is secretly sending you messages into your processor on what to do and if you need to be louder or something.

He doesn't let you have a social life and is very restrictive about what you're doing.

"That's one energon cube too many, you're going to be fat. I can't have a fat star, can I?"

The only time you'd be seen with random people is when you're being filmed doing charity or something good for the community.

Wow! Sentinel Prime endorsed such a kind bot! He has a great eye for good people!

Dating? Don't even think about it before asking him first. He would only let you "date" some popular bot. Maybe a top racer or another star. But you wouldn't be actually dating, it's just a way for Sentinel Prime to keep you relevant.

You have to be the top singer in all of Iacon. All other singers and stars, don't even think about trying to outdo you. If they somehow surpass you, oops! They accidentally ingested poison! I wonder how that happened... (That Beyonce theory reference lol)

Don't even think about getting sick and having to call off the show. You are doing that to show whether you're dying or not. He's gonna get the top doctor and patch you up right away. How unreliable you are for canceling a show thousands of bots wanted to see!

-------------------------------------------------------

You talk to Sentinel, telling him you don't wanna do this anymore and he stops in his tracks. He turns around and bends down to face you with a disappointed look.

"You don't want to do this anymore? After all this hard work and money I put into you, to make you become who you are now? Well...I guess it's such a shame...All those poor poor bots who look up to you and love you will be just so sad to see you leave your whole career and them behind..." He then stood up and guided you near the window that had a whole view of Iacon.

He then glances at you, "Such a shame, am I right?"

Take that as a no.

-------------------------------------------------------

One time you're practicing for a big performance. The stylist and stage decorators are doing their thing and you run through the show. Sentinel Prime walks in on it and watches it before interrupting.

"Woah Woah Woah Woah! What is this?? I did not ask for this. The decoration is ugly, and the paint job is sloppy, who the hell wrote this script?!"

A stage manager looked around and back at him, "You did sir." They said as they pointed and showed him the clipboard.

He snatched it out of their hand and threw it to the side, "How could I possibly write this? This isn't even my handwriting! You're fired."

(He wrote it. )

He then motioned for you to come over to him and he grabbed your face and showed you to the rest of the crew, "I can't have precious (y/n) looking all ugly and making a fool out of herself now can I?"

You glared at him, "I think it's fi-"

"shhh, I'm doing you a favor."

He rewrote everything, changed every single direction, and watched the whole rerun applauding.

"Now that's what I want!"

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Remember my headcanons

Feel free to request!

Not proofread

[multch]

Accident.

No outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader [18+] CW: Unspecified age gap \ touching \ suggestive content\ afab Reader

After a wardrobe malfunction at the beach, Mr Miller decides he’s gotten too close- enough is enough- but he couldn't have anticipated the constant teasing that would follow suit..

Sand, sun and some eye-candy, Nothing could be better than this!

Finally coming back home felt fantastic after months away at college. Not only would you get to crash on the much larger bed of your old room but you would also be around for the elaborate summer holidays your parents would take.

Your family was enthusiastic.. To say the least. They were always ecstatic when it came to organizing what annual ‘event’ they would host. You hoped it would be just a simple trip with you and your siblings like last year- maybe someplace where you wouldn’t have to suffer the sweltering heat waves that summer kept offering- Like England or Newzeland!

Unfortunately, your parents had something else in mind:

The beach.

With people you hardly know.

With THE Joel Miller practically babysitting you while they organize it.

Fuck.

Joel Miller has been a friend of both of your parents for a few years now. Having first met him as a helping hand while officially moving out of your parents’ house, he’s proven himself exceptionally helpful. You almost feel bad- You know your dad always makes sure he’s paid for his work, however; you felt like you, personally, had never thanked him properly.

Heck- You’d be happy to thank him quite thoroughly if you know what I mean… 

You could never shake the thoughts you've had since you two first locked eyes. A simple gesture sparking many moons of passionate yearning. Thinking about his muscular arms, his sculpted face and the dark tone of his restless voice. Perhaps even the sounds it would make if your hands wandered achingly slow down his solid chest and towards his big, hard, throbbing…

You wish! Your little crush on him was absolutely trampled on 2 years ago by the sly comment you heard him tell your parents one night. Apparently he had started dating again- probably found someone already, afterall, it has been 2 years..

Still… you couldn’t help but wonder if a beach party could be your chance- maybe not to do.. anything… but you could at least muster up the courage to ask him if he's taken or not.

Right?

You felt butterflies in your stomach, swearing this was a make or break decision.

It took hours of pacing and rapid texting-the night before- but finally you had picked out the perfect bikini for tonight.

It was baby-blue in a gingham print. The bikini itself tied together on both hips and one in-between your breasts- joining in a dainty little bow you had spent ages worrying if it didn't look “effortless enough.” It was cute enough to be semi casual while being mature enough that your relatives wouldn't keep acting like you were an actual child.

You couldn’t help but second guess yourself… Was the effort really worth it? It's just a small get together after all, why would you need to impress anyone?… 

Would you actually impress him?

Could you ever impress him?

*

In the blink of an eye, you gasped at the sudden grasp around your tits. Those hands were large and powerful. They were panicked- almost hesitant however he didn’t seem too keen on letting go. As the wave finished toppling over you two, Joel swiftly pulled you around to face him.

The sight was mouth watering.

Flushed bright red, Joel was quick to glare into your eyes- His were brimming with concern yet crystal clear with honesty and the determination to protect your honor. His hair was wet and sat tousled over his eyes. You couldn’t help but gaze at his bitten lip as he concentrated so deeply between the valley of your breasts- almost as if he was staring directly into your heart. 

It thumped as if it were about to explode.

It might have taken you a few moments to realize but before you could react, Joel was already bent down and trying to re-tie the center string of your bikini top. Being so far out- the waves were ruthless. They crashed over the two of you like an avalanche.

It felt near impossible to keep your balance with Joel tugging you towards him- all the while, the moving sea pulling you-two away from shore.

Instinctively, your hands steadied yourself on Joel’s shoulders. A pink blush spread throughout your face as you began to realize how truly naked you were.

His tanned, bare shoulders were strong and toned from years of strenuous work in the blistering sun. Your exposed stomach fluttering with a flight of butterflies. The memory of his careful touch against a place so sensitive…

His motoring hands slowly came to a stop. As soon as he went to stand up, you quickly dropped your arms. Not knowing where to place them, your hands checked the tight bows around your hips. Luckily, it seemed like your bikini bottoms were secure; however, your top was another story.

The look you gave him was less than impressed…

“Shut up.” He growled without hesitance.

Oh.

It was painfully obvious he was embarrassed.

Cute, you thought.

You shot him back a sly smirk

For a man who spent so long hovering over your bust, his ability to tie the knot was sheepish. Joel had fixed a simple double knot, causing the remaining rope to dangle over your naval.

Letting out a quick sigh, you decided you had enough of the ocean for today. His eyes widened as he felt your brisk grasp on his arm- dragging him back to shore to the best of your ability.

*

Staring at your phone was useless. The mere thought of today's “incident” was enough to keep you running in circles. You sigh as you fall further into the plush cushions that lined the small sofa. Like many family functions, You've sought refuge in the same old fashioned living room. It was a cramped room tucked far within the back end of the house cluttered with old furniture. Fortunately, the abandoned room was silent compared to outside’s blaring ruckus. It was yours.

… at least, it was.

There in the door frame stood a familiar sight;

“Hey… can I speak to you,” Joel sighed, “about earlier today… I'm sorry for-”

“Groping me?” You snarked.

“God, give me a break would ‘ya,” His brows furrowed as his face slowly turned a light shade of pink, “It was either I did that or else you would’ve flashed everyone!”

For a moment, you get lost within the passionate emotion of his southern drawl. He’s so flustered; it almost seems as if he’s annoyed by you too. Maybe you were too calm? Maybe he was too embarrassed. Regardless, His outrage humored you more than you would like to admit- forcing a chuckle to erupt from within you.

“What? You think this is funny?” He spat- rolling his eyes.

"A little…”

…

The room sat still in deafening silence until…. “BAAHAHAHHAAHAAHAHA- oh my god, ok so maybe a lot,” you giggled, “I'm so sorry but really I don’t see why you care so much?”

Joel was practically fuming. Hot pink- he was humiliated “Get a grip!, damn you little-”

“Did you just tell me to get a grip? I would but it seems you’ve grabbed enough things today for the two of us-”

Before you had the chance to laugh, your eyes widened at the sight of the one and only Joel Miller rushing towards you with a salty smile and a couch pillow hurling towards you.

HWACK! You squealed at the sudden collision. Despite being a pillow, when punted hard enough at a victim, it proves itself as an effective weapon.

“GOT ‘YA!” He gasped- now standing over you. As you opened your eyes, they locked with his. 

Your mouth sat smug, readying yourself for a moment to strike back. His eyes! it was for a brief moment yet you were lucky enough to catch them darting down to your lips. 

Ha!

Your tactic: the element of surprise. When his gaze returned, it took all your power to summon the courage to muster out the question plastered across your heart for so long.

It was now or never, you assured.

“Jo- Mr Miller,” you stated, “this is so awkward but… I was wondering if you were in a relationship?”

“What's it to you?” He chuckled, shifting to rest his palm on the armrest beside you.

“I… um..” you tightened your grip on the pillow.

The look in his eyes was enough to tell you.

Fuck.

“Ah… shit.., look ��sweetpea, y'know your daddy and I are buddies…” he tried telling you but he knew he couldn't steer you away.

“And? So what, I'm an adult,” You barked, “C'mon Joel- I really like you!”

The truth came bubbling out, you didn't expect to actually tell him. Not tonight. Not ever. Happily watching from the sidelines was a hobby- you imagined him in your future. Confessing to him; however, was never foreseen. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

With your vision glossing over, this wave of dread was suffocating. Before you could excuse yourself, you felt his familiar grasp on your hand. Unlike before, his touch wasn't hesitant. Instead, his grip was determined, driven yet caring.

He grazed his thumb side to side across the back of your hand. His fingers kissing yours with each rough callous and soft intention.

The surprised action made your eyes widen, you raised your head up high only to see the sight of Joel Miller looking back at you like how one looks at a puppy- as if his heart had melted.

A bright pink flush and bitten lips, it was clear he had something to say stuck on the tip of his tongue. 

“Y/N.” 

“Joel.”

He bent down and held the side of your face. Dark and hazy, his eyes glazed over with ambition. “You're so pretty, y'know that?” He kissed onto your lips.

With that said, you stretched your arms up and placed them on his broad shoulders, merging your mouth with his. He nipped at your bottom lip, asking for entry. You gave in, allowing him access to explore each and every crevice with his tongue. 

Was it mere minutes or years you had been kissing for? You couldn't tell. Regardless, at some point you had to pry yourself apart in order to grant yourself a moment to breathe. Your lips felt so tender and bruised- God, how you missed his touch.

He fell to sit beside you, the old couch creaking as he sat down. “Do you normally make out with men twice your age?” He teased.

“Oh, Shut up!” you said before chucking the pillow at his chest with a loud thud.