#now it’s at least on enough that I can flush the toilet

[shithitsmynipples]

Water is off for repairs with no notice. I missed my window to shower, I have work till 5 and therapy at 6. Cool cool guess I’ll go fuck myself

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 6; ghoap x reader) parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

-

Johnny cleans up the lamp in the morning.

He might as well, being on second watch and all. Ghost wakes him up at the ass crack of dawn with a gentle kick to the ribs (gentle for him) before rolling over on the couch and going right to sleep. It’s routine for them to fall into sleep like rocks sinking in water, but the waking up is never quite as graceful. Johnny snorts awake and whips his head around sharply from side to side before confirming that he’s just in his girlfriend’s apartment and the asshole that woke him up is just his ornery lieutenant. 

“I better not hear any fuckin’ jabber,” is all Ghost says before closing his eyes. Johnny chews his lip to keep the grin off of his face.

He tries to keep it down after that. For the first couple of hours, he sits up against the wall and scrolls on his phone. That keeps him occupied until any lingering exhaustion is flushed from his veins.

There’s a broom and dustpan in a small closet in the kitchen where his girl also keeps the garbage bags and compost bin that he uses to sweep up the mess, and he tries to make as little noise as possible while he cleans up. The glass makes a tinkling sound as it’s swept up though, just loud enough that it inevitably wakes his girl up.

She comes creeping out of her room late into the morning, the shop not due to open for another hour or two. The late weekend opening hours mean she usually gets to sleep in. 

Weeks back, it used to be something that Johnny got to do with her as well, cuddled until she’d suddenly pull away, then waking up to her swallowing his cock, peeking under the bedsheets to find her pretty head bobbing up and down his length. Groaning and palming her head to press her lips down to the base, eyes rolling back at the sound of her gagging around his length, the base of his dick a mess of come and drool. 

In the present day though, she clears her throat. Johnny blinks and refocuses on her. 

Her eyes flit to Ghost’s still form on the couch and when they dart back to Johnny, he raises a finger to his lips. Let the man rest. It’s the least Johnny can do for him after he dragged him back to his girl’s place to make amends. She hazards another cautious glance at Ghost—his lieutenant lies still as a statue on the couch, motionless like he isn’t even breathing—before pursing her lips, displeased. 

In the light of day, his previous anger feels cleansed. He understands now. They’ve gone about this all wrong, topsy-turvy. He’s been chasing his own tail and making a mess of things for far too long now, but Ghost’s voice is clear in his head now. It settles him.  

So when his girl goes to open her mouth, maybe thinking that she can whisper softly enough so as not to wake Ghost up, he steps forward quickly and covers her mouth. 

She squawks behind his hand. Again, he shakes his head. Any sound would be too loud for the man slumbering on her couch. 

Johnny can feel her swallow behind his palm and it almost makes him salivate. His fingers twitch on her cheeks like he might press them into the soft skin and make her lips pout. 

“Not here,” he murmurs, almost mouthing the words.

He waits until she nods before removing his hand. Then he leaves to go dump the dustpan filled with glass into the trash. 

She corners him in the bathroom after that and it’s all he can do not to come in his pants. It’s not his fault he’s been trigger happy since Ghost tugged them off on the sparring mats and came on his stomach; he’s been pent up since the last time he saw her. There’s still flakes of dried come on his belly. He only half resists lifting his shirt to look. If his girl knew, she’d be mortified. 

He wonders if she’d be more upset that he let Ghost beat off on him or that he didn’t clean up his mess. 

Johnny lets the bird guide him to the toilet, letting her shove him down onto the lid.

“Ah, hen, ye really wanna do this now?” he teases, spreading his legs and wrapping his hands around her waist to reel her in, slipping up her shirt at the same time. 

He almost moans when she slaps him across the face, biting his lip when she gasps right after, surprised at her own actions. “Oh—fuck—I’m so sorry—”

He clicks his tongue, lips curling up into an impish grin. “Dinnae worry, baby. ‘M tougher than I look.”

It’s a small mercy that she’s too agitated to really look him over because if she were to direct her gaze even slightly south, she’d find Johnny’s shaft straining against his fly, hard enough to pound nails the second her hand touched his face. He swallows a groan and his fingers tighten, sinking deeper into her flesh. 

“I didn’t mean to—Jesus, it doesn’t matter.” He loves that when she gets frustrated, her bottom lip juts out. It makes him want to sink his teeth into it. “When your…boss or whatever…wakes up, can you please take him and leave?”

“Leave?” Johnny repeats, blinking up at her innocently. 

“Yes. Leave,” she says, stressing the word. He hums and strokes his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach, pleased that she hasn’t yet told him to take his hands off her. Sweet little bird. “We kissed and made up. That’s what you came for, right? So the two of you can get going once he wakes up.”

“No breakfast?” 

She looks distinctly unimpressed. “There’s a coffee shop down the block.”

“Aye, I ken, baby,” Johnny croons, pulling her in closer, smiling when she squeaks and braces her hands on his shoulders, his face almost cradled between her breasts. He turns his head to kiss one, mouth lingering over the cotton of her shirt, tempted almost to bite and rip it. “It’s jus’ that…seems an awful like the second Simon and I take off, you’re jus’ gonna go right back to cold shouldering me. Sure you’re nae jus’ putting on a little show for me now?”

Her fingers grip him by the fabric of his shirt. “Johnny—” She yelps when he bites the inside of her breast, snarling when she tries to pull away. “Okay, okay, okay, I got it—”

“That’s right,” he says with a content sigh, pulling back just the slightest bit. “You’re nae going anywhere. Not until we’ve talked this out, nice and civil.”

When she stares down at him, wide-eyed, like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, it’s a rush like he’s never experienced. He feels right in the flow of things now, his head on straight for once. 

“What’s there to talk about?” she mumbles, and he almost melts. “I’m not mad anymore.”

“Nae mad? Then why’re ye trying to kick us out?”

“Because I’m busy, Johnny,” she snaps. “The shop’s opening in an hour and I don’t have time to babysit the two of you.”

“Ye willnae even notice we’re here, hen, I promise. Fuck, I’ll even help ye out—make some deliveries, go shake anyone down that still owes ye—”

“I don’t shake down my customers, Johnny—”

“Whatever ye need, baby.” He drags his palms up her sides, pulling up her shirt with his hands. Her tits pop out like ripe fruit dangling in front of his mouth, puffy nipples begging to be sucked on. “Simon and I will be right here. Ye can use us however ye want.”

He stares at her nipple while saying that, unconsciously leaning forward until his lips graze her skin and his tongue pokes out. She doesn’t budge, just curses under her breath and lets him rub his tongue over her beaded nipple, shaking in his hold. Johnny bets if he pulled down those little sleep shorts of hers, he’d find a wet little cunt begging for a fat cock to fill her up. 

It’d take nothing for him to pull them down and give her what she’s asking for. The love of his life is tucked away beneath a layer of flimsy cotton and begging for him to give her some love and affection. Johnny hasn’t kissed her in God knows how long—a week? Two? He’d probably find her swollen and aching beneath her shorts; could get her to come just by dragging two fingers up the seam of her. 

He knows what Ghost would say though, so he drags his teeth over her nipple just for the pleasure of feeling her flinch and then pulls back. The bird blinks down at him with hazy eyes when he helps readjust her shirt, pulling it back down to cover her gorgeous tits, a damp spot on her shirt over the nipple he just had in his mouth. 

“We’re not going to…?” she asks, letting the question dangle in midair. She says it without thinking—clearly, because the second it dawns on her that she just asked if they were going to fuck in the bathroom with Johnny sitting on the toilet, she looks horrified with herself. It’s beyond endearing. 

“No’ with Simon in the other room, baby. Wouldnae be fair for him to have to listen in.”

He doesn’t tell her that fairness in this case doesn’t mean cruel. It means that it wouldn’t be possible. 

Still, he needs to shoo her out of the bathroom to tug one out into the toilet bowl. Johnny would be half tempted to jerk off onto her mirror just to leave his mark where she could see, but he has some manners. 

He gives himself a nice, leisurely tug with the help of his girl’s expensive hand lotion. It’s not as viscous as the lube in the gallon tub on his nightstand back at the barracks, but it’s a good substitute; makes his hand glide nicely over his shaft.  If he closes his eyes, it even smells like her, like it’s his girl giving him a morning reach around, and part of Johnny wonders whether he was too quick to kick her out of the bathroom. Ghost wouldn’t begrudge him a quick and dirty jerk.

The thought dissolves the longer his hand flies over his dick though. Hard to think about anything outside the present moment when his hand is braced against the wall and his orgasm barrelling towards him. When he comes, it’s with a deep, shuddering grunt, not even bothering to muffle the sound. He hopes his girl hears him from the other room. He hopes it makes her squirm and ache. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, another voice takes him by surprise.

“Johnny. You’re on breakfast.”

Ghost’s voice is gruff in the early morning hours, abrupt. Rarely could it be classified as gentle, but it’s like chert rattling in a leather bag after hours of disuse. Especially since it comes out of nowhere, the man asleep one moment and awake the next. Johnny’s worked with him long enough to not flinch at the sudden sound of his voice, but his girl hasn’t; she yelps when his voice comes unbidden from the couch, big body suddenly upright like he’s been awake the whole time. 

He’s no cook, but Johnny can rustle up eggs and bacon like any other self-respecting serviceman. On deployment, they used to rotate cooking duty every night, no one skilled enough to take over the post permanently. Still, Johnny eyes Ghost worriedly when he takes a seat across from the bird at her little kitchen table. It’s not a table meant for two grown men, just a small wooden thing with four chairs, only enough for one on each side. It means that Ghost’s knees knock against hers when he takes the chair across from her, forcing her to curl up into herself, tucking her legs under the chair. 

He stares her down. Menacing eyes. Not the kind of man you want sitting across from you, no matter the circumstances. It makes Johnny anxious to turn his back on them when he has to crack the eggs into the pan, checking over his shoulder religiously. The whites go crispy at the edges before he remembers to flip them over.

“You work downstairs in the flower shop,” Ghost says bluntly, breaking the silence. His first words to Bird all morning. Not a question.

“…Yes,” Bird answers gingerly. Her palms are clamped over her knees, sweating likely. “I own it.”

“Since when?” He doesn’t blink before firing off another question.

“Um…two years.”

“Where’d you work before?”

“In…in London. I was a shopgirl there though—”

“Where’s your family from then?”

It goes on that way for a time, an interrogation with no rhyme or reason. Even Johnny has to wonder at Ghost’s intentions—knows that there’s no shot that Ghost hasn’t already done a background check on her. Why interrogate the bird then? Why rattle off question after question in such quick succession? Why make her tremble and look down at the tabletop and stutter out her answers and fidget under his stare—

He notices Ghost’s hand slip beneath the table to grip his length, spreading his legs to help readjust.

Ah. Mean bastard. Of course he’d get off on making her squirm.

The bacon burns. Johnny can’t help it. He listens attentively to her clear voice—softer in the morning hours, still sleep-laden and flowery—whispering out her life’s story, dick getting hard behind the kitchen island. He bites his lip to hold back a moan when she trips over her words. Thrusts forward to rub his bulge against the underside of the island when she chews on her lip, relieving some of the pressure. It drives him mad that there’s a wet cunt going unsatisfied just a few feet away. 

Ghost shoots him a sharp look as if he can hear his thoughts. “Johnny.”

He turns around to flip the burner off.

[evie-sturns]

drunk - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you show up to you, and your boyfriend chris's home drunk after a girls night out. chris has to take care of you in your interesting... state.

contains: fluff, mentions of alcohol, vague mentions of throwing up, crying, swearing.

a/n: i wanted to do a little mature chris fic because i dont see enough of that, i hope you guys like this!!

--------------└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘---------------

tonight started as just me and 6 other friends at a club, before i left the house chris made it very clear i need to be home before midnight.

right now its 1:30 of the next morning, my friend grace is glued to my side as i cackle, watching her twerk on the dancefloor. i drag her to the bar, throwing back several more shots.

i'm not sure what time it is, or where the other 4 of my friends are but all i know is i should probably be getting home..

"graceee" i laugh, pulling out my phone and attempting to call an uber, all the text is jumbled. a girl walks by me, i grab her arm lightly and hand her my phone, "call me an uber please babe" i say to the girl, she smiles before handing my phone back shortly after,

"its coming in 10 minutes!!" she calls out over her shoulder as she walks away.

i drag grace out of the club as we laugh about nothing, the uber pulls up and we pile inside.

-

i stumble up the front porch of chris and i's house, swinging open the front door as it hits the wall with a bang, i let out a small laugh as my heels click against the wooden planks.

"chrissy!!" i yell out a stupid nickname, chris walks out from the bathroom, hes shirtless only wearing sweatpants, which sit dangerously low.

"where the fuck have you been!" chris says, his voice serious as he grips my wrist firmly.

"uh.. club? obviously," i say with an attitude.

"drop your tone, come with me." he says, pulling me down the corridor into his room.

"sit" chris says, dragging me over to the bed and gently placing me down on the end of his bed. he gets down on his knees and starts to undo the straps of my heels, pulling them off my feet. "ow christopher!! 'fuckin hurts." i whine, folding my arms

"do you know what time it is?" chris asks, "like 10pm? can you read a clock?" i reply with an eye roll, my tone slurred.

he stands up off his knees as he looks down at me on the bed, i look to the side, chris grabs my chin,

"look at me." he says, making me look up at him with the hand on my chin. he stares into my eyes,

i erupt into tears, "your mad at me and im really really sorry but i-.. i" i say as mascara starts to flow down my flushed cheeks.

chris shakes his head, closing his eyes "i'm not mad at you sweetheart." he says, picking me up off the bed and placing me on my feet,

"you wanna know what i think?" chris asks softly, i nod my head.

"i think you've had a bit too much to drink tonight, you think so too?" he says, putting my arms in the air and lifting my mini-dress up over my head,

he walks me over to his closet, pulling out a pair of my small pyjama shorts and one of his shirts, which pulls onto me.

"you look pale baby, do you feel sick?" chris says, speed-walking me into his bathroom to get off his carpet.

"yeah." i sniffle, he sits down next to the toilet on the cold marble tiles, he pulls me onto his lap where i stay on my knees.

all of the achohol i've had tonight exits my mouth into the toilet bowl, "there we are." chris says, stroking my hair as he holds it behind my head.

"good girl, your okay." he sighs, "at least all the shots are out now" he says, standing up and walking me over to the sink, leaning me over the sink and filling up his hands with water as a cup.

he pours it into my mouth with a small laugh, i swish it around before spitting it back into the sink.

"feeling a little better?" he asks, picking me up by my ass and taking me towards his bed.

"im sorry." i say, letting my head fall forward into his bare shoulder, "don't apologise, you throwing up all the drinks you've had is much better than keeping it in okay?"

i nod, he lays me down in bed before pulling the covers up over me. leaning over me as my eyelids grow heavy.

"chris.." i say quietly, my speech still slightly slurred, "yeah?" he replies "i'm sorry for being mean" i say, chris laughs,

"dont worry about it precious." he smiles, leaning down and pressing a kiss to my lips,

"chris!!! i've just been sick!" i say, pulling away.

[awxcoffeexno]

unholy

mean!loganhowlett x mutant!reader one shot

fic masterlist

summary: you work at a shady dance club that offers other services. logan is a regular but this time he decides to implement his claws.

content warnings: very very VERY 18+. MDNI. claw worship and knife play!! mentions of blood and cutting. logan is very very mean and he likes hurting reader because he knows she can take it. reader is a mutant and a sex worker. please proceed only at your own risk, this is pure degeneracy and very very nsfw. also, sex, piv, mild slapping, lots of sucking and mention of bruises (only from the sex). vaguely set in the 70's after stryker's experiment (mostly only in my head because origins logan lives in my head rent free). also cameo from blue from sucker punch as a shout-out to baby me.

word count: 4k. longest from me.

a/n: since my utterly disgusting thoughts rubbed off on a lot of other people and the last claw worship fic was quite well received, i went ahead and wrote an nsfw version. this is pure filth and his fckin claws will never not make me feel some typa way. i will not apologise.

it's sweltering in the club, the music pounding, and the air filled with rising smoke from the hand-rolled cigarettes in the patrons' ashtrays. your mind is buzzing from the overstimulation and your muscles ache from the dancing, begging for a rest.

you love every last bit of it.

a man reaches up to where you're standing and tucks ten dollars into the string of your thong. you smile at him flirtatiously and sway down onto your haunches so you can lean in and thank him properly.

you've been in the trade long enough to know that the better you thank them, the more they keep coming back for. you're in the business of sales, really; conversions are everything. this business is fast business—there's the wall street boys and the dance girls, the two most proficient sales people in the world.

the man grins at your sultry voice, rewarding you with another ten dollars and a hot kiss to your neck. this isn't a no-touch club and that might be your favourite thing about working here. men are more likely to behave when they're allowed to touch rather than when they think they're rebelling by touching.

your hair, damp from sweat, sticks to your forehead and it almost makes you sad thinking about how nicely you'd done it earlier in the night. real big and fluffy, just like blue likes it.

and just as you think about him, he appears at your pole. he runs a hand up your sticky calf to catch your attention and you slide down, knowing from his expression instantly that there's more work to do.

tina quickly takes your place on the pole and you thank her with a kiss to the cheek and five dollars from your string. it's simple courtesy, and an unwritten club rule. if you're leaving your post for higher paying activities, you thank the other girl who is covering for you with money.

"hey, babydoll," blue says in your ear over the music, sliding a hand around your bare waist. "big ol' guy's here for you. the one with the…" blue rubs his cheeks, "fluff."

"logan," you say, more to yourself than blue, and he tips your chin to him.

"ask for 200, and only let him bring you down to 180. you gotta make up the difference for last week, sugar."

200 is asking for a lot for the hour. your going rate is a hundred and that's only because you're one of blue's favourite girls and he brings you his best clients. but logan's been a regular for the better part of six months now and blue knows he can hustle him for at least 180. besides, you were sick all week last week and blue warned you he'd make you pay.

so you lean in and give him a kiss, promising him the money.

"attagirl," he smirks, tugging your mouth open with a thumb and slipping a pill in.

you smile at him gratefully and start up the stairs, the roar of the music fading into a hum. quickly spitting the pill out into your hand, you tuck it into your bra. you'll flush it down the toilet when you get to your room. blue says the pills make it easier but you hate how groggy they make you feel. in any case, you like your sessions with logan.

he's good for you, keeps you from floating off into the sky. you're fairly certain there's an old roman story about flying a little too high. or was it greek?

slipping into your little red room, you quickly wash up and change into a silk robe that you know will not last the night. not around logan. but blue keeps a steady supply of them coming so long as you bring him good money which you do.

once you've refreshed your make up and puffed on a cigarette, you press the buzzer, letting the boys downstairs know to send logan up.

his broad shoulders fill your doorframe under a minute, the warmth of his presence sending a shiver down your sweaty body. he's clad in all black formal wear that rather reminds you of a funeral.

"whiskey?" you offer, watching him sit down on the plush leather chair that most others don't even bother to notice.

logan likes it slow, taking his time to unwind and ease up before he takes his stress out on you. it's rather nice, your usual routine.

however, when he grunts a yes and you start pouring his whiskey, you notice that something's off about him today. his eyes are a little droopy when they're usually so alert. his skin paler than the usual golden tan he sports.

something's wrong and you don't like the feeling that settles in your gut at that.

you take the whiskey over to him and climb into his lap, offering him the glass.

"what happened?" you ask, your voice betraying the concern you should probably never feel for any client.

he looks at you and snarls quietly, "poison arrow."

fuck.

logan's not particularly well beloved by the kind of gentry that a place like this attracts or the people he crosses paths with regularly. this much he's told you before and he's nothing if not honest.

but a poison arrow?

fuck.

your recent knack for eloquence aside, you ask quietly, "and… are you okay?"

"m'fine. fucked my healing though," he grumbles, pulling the collar of his flannel to the side, showing you the ugly gash that stretches from his shoulder, disappearing into his shirt.

you and logan share that power, a gift really. accelerated healing. it's come in handy plenty to you and you're only a dance girl. you cannot begin to imagine how a man like him will survive without it.

he sees your cringing expression and barks out a single-syllable laugh. the sound breaks you out of your thoughts and you look at him, startled.

"look at your face, pretty girl. told'ya m'fine. it's getting better already," he says and his voice, though tinted with his usual casual condescension, is gentler than you've ever heard him. he's… reassuring… you? you think??

"now, c'mere," he downs the whiskey and uses both hands to pull you closer by the thighs.

and then his mouth is at your neck, and there's the logan you know. rough and uncaring, cruel because he knows your body can take it. knows you can take what he can never do to anyone else.

he savours the salt on your skin, running his large paws down your arms tucking your wrists behind your back. he likes you detained, pliant and ripe for the taking. his throaty groan on your skin in the dip of your now exposed collar bone makes the need curl in your core.

real need, not the kind that you summon with other clients. need that is amplified when he squeezes your wrists tighter together to make you quit squirming.

"lo–"

"shut up." he commands, licking and sucking down your neck and shoulder, and that's that. you snap your mouth shut immediately.

logan slips your robe off both your shoulders with his free hand and his teeth sink into the flesh in the nape of your neck hard enough to draw blood, making you cry out his name. he's exhausted and healing too slowly and he needs to use you as his stress ball and fuck you until he feels better.

you want to cry out, you want to beg him until he gives you what you need but you know better than to do that with him. your hips however rut into him, making him yank you back and glare at you.

"and who let you do that, princess?" he says so calmly, voice oceans deep and velvety smooth, that you don't realise for a second that it was a question. a rhetorical one.

you blush and it makes his lip curl in a patronising smile.

"oh, i'll give you what you need alright. all you gotta do is ask, sugar."

you want to remind him that he was the one that told you to shut up but that won't end well, so you oblige.

"logan, please…" you whisper, hands trying to readjust in his grip, grasping for a more comfortable position. "please let me have you."

"that just won't do. need me to help you put together full sentences too?" he grumbles, readjusting because he's clearly in pain. "say it like you want it. say you want my fat cock to fill your needy little pussy. say you want her to feel good."

logan's mouth is disgusting. the words aren't too different from what the other men that come to your room spout but on his tongue they sound particularly dirty. and apparently you like dirty because god fucking dammit… his words and his voice and his scent and his everything make your need for him desperately worse.

"please, please, just need your fat cock to fill my pussy, to stretch her out, logan." you grovel. "need my pussy to feel good, please."

"jesus fuck, princess. got quite the mouth on you." he smirks as if he wasn't the one to draw those words from your lips. "let's put it to good use."

he isn't going to let you have his cock in you to quench that need that easy. he always, always makes you work for it.

he juts his chin out, gesturing to you to get on the floor and you slip between his legs, looking up at him reverently.

you like him in your mouth anyway. you like the way he uses you just hard enough to make you cry but never hard enough to make you feel like you're drowning–unlike some people who come here, the ones that make you bury your face in blue's chest later as he lectures you about needing to toughen up.

but when he reaches our for you, his hand comes into your focus and it makes you gasp softly. the space between his knuckles, home to his claws, is bared open, dirty and covered in blood. the claws cut him open every time but heals immediately so it's never mattered before. you take his giant hand with both of yours to examine the wounds but he yanks it away. the back of his hand comes down on your right cheek in a sharp, firm slap.

"focus," he growls and you rub your cheek, eyebrows setting into a frown.

your tone is firmer than it is around him when you speak. "show it to me, logan."

he shifts in his seat, gauging you. he isn't used to hearing any form of authority in your voice. nor is he used to being taken care of. he cracks his neck, shaking it off and then leans forward.

"you wanna see?" he says, voice so low it makes your toes curl.

you swallow thickly and nod, chewing on the inside of your lip.

"then you're going to have to pay, princess."

your tummy jumps as he puts his fist in front of you. you're about to reach over to grab his hand again, leaning in close to take a better look, but out come his claws making you shuffle back in alarm. they stop at your lips, drawing a hitched breath from you.

"open your mouth, angel. it'll hurt too much if i push them in myself."

the old man has lost it.

"lo–" you start to protest but he's retracted all but his middle claw with a loud snikt, and is pushing the flat of the remaining one into your mouth.

the cold adamantium of logan’s claw presses against your tongue, the sharp edge demanding obedience. you part your lips further slowly, letting the flat of the blade slide deeper inside, grazing your tongue. the metallic taste is sharp, a reminder of the danger you’re playing with.

logan’s gaze never leaves yours, dark and unyielding. there’s no softness in his eyes, no hint of gentleness. this isn’t about comfort or care—this is about control, about reminding you who’s in charge. his other hand grips your jaw, fingers digging into your skin just hard enough to bruise, forcing you to keep your mouth open.

“good girl,” he mutters, the praise laced with a mocking edge that makes your stomach twist. his tone is condescending, amused by how easily you submit to him.

he begins to draw the claw out, then slides it back in, a slow and deliberate rhythm that forces you to focus on the sensation—the cool metal, the danger of the sharp blade so close to your skin. your breath hitches, a mix of fear and something darker curling in your gut.

“look at ya, angel,” logan sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “so eager to worship something that could slice you open without a second thought.”

it’s as if he knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you crave his approval despite the cruelty in his touch.

his grip on your jaw tightens as he tilts your head back further, forcing you to take the claw deeper into your mouth. “don’t bite down,” he warns, the threat clear in his tone and you realise… he can feel it. he can feel your mouth on his claw and it's stoking the fire in him.

you nod as best as you can in response to his words, your eyes locked on his, wide and pleading. the pain from his grip mingles with the strange pleasure of submission, and it’s almost unbearable. you feel like you're on fire. logan watches you struggle, a twisted smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your discomfort.

“you like this, don't cha?” he taunts, pulling the claw out just enough to let you breathe. “you like being reminded of what i could do to you if i wanted. y'like knowing that i’m the one who decides how far this goes.”

he’s right, of course. you hate how much you like it, how the power he holds over you only intensifies the burning need in your belly. it’s humiliating and exhilarating all at once, and logan's reading you like an open book.

“now, let’s see if you’re really worth the trouble,” he growls, sliding the claw out entirely, leaving your mouth empty and aching. he leans back in his chair, holding his hand out in front of you, the metal gleaming under the dim light as the other claws come out too. “kiss them. show me how much you want it.”

your heart pounds as you lean in, pressing your lips to the cool metal with reverence. the taste of them lingers on your tongue, and the weight of his gaze is almost suffocating. but you do as you’re told, kissing the blades as if they're something sacred, something you’re desperate to prove your devotion to.

logan’s smirk widens as he watches you. “that’s it, princess. make it worth my while. maybe then i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

the claw lingers against your lips and you tilt your head slightly, pressing a softer, more deliberate kiss to the adamantium, tasting the faint tang of blood and iron bloom on your lips. the edge is sharp against your skin and you aren't surprised you've managed to cut yourself. but your body takes care of you and the wound is gone before you even lick the blood away.

your tongue flicks out, tentative at first, tracing the length of the blade. you can’t stop yourself, your need to please him overpowering every other instinct. logan’s eyes narrow as he watches you, the barest hint of approval hidden beneath the hardness of his gaze.

“that’s more like it,” he murmurs, his voice quiet… tired. “show me how much you love it. show me how much you’re willing to do to keep me happy.”

you press your tongue flat against the claw, dragging it slowly along the length, tasting the cold metal. you wrap your lips around his claw and carefully start sucking the way you would his cock, making him groan your name. you cut yourself over and over as you suck but it bothers neither of you, the pain translating directly into the wetness between your legs.

“attagirl,” logan growls.

“thank you, logan,” you whisper against the claw, your voice trembling with need. “thank you for this.”

a dark chuckle rumbles from deep in his chest. “thank me when you’ve earned it,” he replies, pulling the claw away just slightly, taunting you with its absence. your lips chase after it, a whimper escaping as you realize how much you're genuinely, truly enjoying this.

“please,” you murmur, your voice shaking. “please, logan, let me have you. let me take care of you.”

he raises an eyebrow, the cold amusement in his eyes never wavering. “take care'a me? is that what you think this is?” he presses the claw back against your lips, harder this time, making sure you feel the point against your skin. “you’re here to serve me, princess. and you’ll do it how i want, not how you think i need.”

a shudder runs through you at his words, the sharp edge digging just enough to leave a thin line of red along your lower lip. your eyes sting with tears, but you don’t dare pull away. instead, you lean into it, pressing your lips against the claw in a silent plea for mercy, for something more.

logan’s smirk deepens, his other hand coming to rest on the back of your head, pushing you forward just enough that the point of his claw cuts into your lip again. you gasp at the sting, but the sound is muffled as he presses down harder, forcing your mouth to open.

logan watches you, his expression unreadable, but his grip on the back of your head tightens, holding you in place as you continue to worship the deadly weapon in your mouth. “want to take care'a me?” he mocks, his voice rough and dark. “you think that's what i need?”

you nod as best you can with the claw in your mouth, your eyes pleading with him.

but logan isn’t done with you yet. he pulls the claw from your mouth, leaving your lips wet with a mix of blood and saliva. you gasp, trying to catch your breath, but before you can say anything, he shoves the claw against your chest, just above your heart, the point pressing into your skin.

“thank me,” he growls, his voice a low snarl. “and mean it.”

“thank you, logan,” you whisper, your voice cracking with desperation. “thank you for your claws.”

the cruel twist of his smile is all the reward you get, but it’s enough. he drags the claw down, slicing through the thin fabric of your robe, leaving a trail of red in its wake. you flinch, but you don’t pull away, your body trembling as you try to keep still under his touch.

"been good, babygirl." he relents finally, watching as your wound heals. "c'mere."

he hauls you into his lap with ease, despite his injuries. you make quick work of his buttons and throw his black shirt open. your eyes snap up to his and then back to his body.

he's covered in bullet holes. five that you can count anyway. your hands reach for them but he grabs your wrist.

"m'fine. they'll heal. two already have."

oh.

so you plant your mouth on his, kissing him deep, savouring the tobacco and musk of his breath. he tugs you closer, hooking a finger into your panties and dragging them down your smooth legs. it makes your toes curl.

the sticky mess between your legs leaves a dark patch on his trousers as he goes back to sucking soft bruises into your neck.

and then you hear his claws before you feel them, the cold metal cutting through what's left of your robe like butter, pressing into the soft skin over your scapula. you brace yourself, nails sinking into his broad shoulders and he cuts the claws in, slicing you open.

"logan, please!" you cry out but the pain is only momentary, delicious and burning hot, before your skin stitches itself back up like clockwork.

"fuck… me," he gasps and you've never heard him so affected.

he undoes his belt with a practiced hand and slides it off, tossing it off to the side and tugging his pants down. quickly, you position yourself over him, sitting down with your head rolled back, sheathing him with your warm, wet walls. he's splitting you open, stretching you the way you begged earlier.

and then he resumes cutting, slicing your back open as you move up and down on his cock. you bury your face in his neck, hiding your tears of pain and pleasure in his neck as he undoes you.

he grabs your jaw when he notices you start to lose yourself.

"no, you pay attention, bub." he snarls in your ear, kissing you roughly. pulling away when your eyes are wide open again, he slips a finger into your mouth.

the salt and blood on his skin makes your mouth water and this is beyond fucked up but you regret nothing. you suck diligently and he reaches down and wraps his mouth around your nipple, making you suck a sharp breath in. you feel his teeth sink in and it sends a shiver down your spine.

your hands in his hair, you tug sharply, making him growl and switch to your other nipple.

"logan…" you whine around his finger, thighs aching from the effort of riding him through it all.

he grunts and takes his hand away from your mouth. both hands on your waist, he starts to fuck you like a fucking fleshlight, moving you up and down on him like you weigh nothing.

you hear a snikt and a claw comes up to your face, running down the side of your cheek and making you mewl in pleasure.

you only just realise how much logan's wound you up in the hour that he's been in your room. you're hurtling towards the edge and he's barely been in you for a few minutes.

but you've wound him up too, the nerves in his body alight with pleasure.

"fuck, doll," he groans in your ear, retracting his claws and steading you with his hands again. "not going to last long tonight."

fuck. blue is going to kill you for letting Logan go so quickly.

yet you cannot seem to care.

you mewl his name and pick up speed at that, panting and gasping, and aching to please. he feels the telltale sign of your edge in the quivering of your walls and yanks you down on himself, pushing you over the cliff.

it's like fireworks and butterflies and pure fucking ecstasy.

"been a good fucking filthy girl," he whispers in your ear, knowing it'll make you react around his cock. "lettin' me cut'ya open like that."

you press your damp brow against his shoulder, riding your high weakly but your pussy does enough to bring him to his climax as well. he grunts and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight down in his lap, filling you warm and deep.

he pants softly in your ear and you look at him with a giddy smile. you reach for his hand to press a kiss to his knuckles and…

his hand is healed.

and… so is his other one.

you pull back to check the rest of him and… they're all gone. all of the bullet holes.

a sly smile spreads across your lips and you look at him with satisfaction dancing in your eyes.

"took care of you after all."

he lets out a surprised laugh, eyes softening with something you haven't seen in him before. he pulls you back into his embrace, and this softness is new. nice, but new.

"yes you did, princess."

i need to be committed and lobotomised with logan's claws. blue would love that.

love, d <3

taglist: @techwrecker, @saltwaterburns, @lilaccmilk, @clevah-girlboss

divider: @rookthornesartistry

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Loved your Emily x teenage daughter reader! Can you do another one where she starts feeling pressure to start having sex because a bunch of her friends are and Emily finds out so she talks with her about it

Hey, anon! I got two super similar requests back-to-back, so this is kind of a two-for-one, but I hope it's what you're looking for! – illdowhatiwantthanks

The World's Largest Box of Condoms

Emily Prentiss x daughter!reader Warnings: discussions about sex, safe sex, genitalia, etc., so much secondhand embarrassment, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.7k

Summary: When your mom, Emily, finds your quickly-hidden box of condoms in the bathroom, you know you're in for one hell of a conversation.

“Honey!” your mom called from the bathroom, loud enough that you could hear her through your headphones. You pulled them off and listened for a moment before yelling back.

“What!?”

“Can you come in here, please!?”

You shrugged. Whatever it was, at least it’d be a nice break from your trigonometry homework. You tossed your pencil and headphones on top of your textbook and sauntered down the hall to the bathroom.

“What, Mom?” you asked, but your breath caught in your throat when you saw what she had sitting on the counter. It was condoms. So many condoms. The embarrassingly gigantic box of condoms you’d ordered on Amazon and hid behind the toilet paper. Which, in hindsight, was a stupid place to hide them. Your face flushed beet red.

She looked at you, stern, eyebrows raised. “You want to tell me why you’ve got a thousand condoms? I mean, Jesus, honey, I don’t know that I’ve used a thousand condoms in my life.”

“Mom, I–” You were floundering, sputtering, your stomach in your throat. “I can explain, I… Please don’t be mad.” You stared at the ground, face flaming.

To your surprise, your mom just laughed. You glanced up and found her rubbing her forehead, staring at the box. “A thousand condoms,” she chuckled, more to herself than you. “Oh, honey.” She threw an arm around your shoulder and kissed the top of your head. “I’m not mad. I just wish you'd talked to me before spending your life’s savings on the world’s largest box of condoms.”

“Y–you’re not mad?” you said, stumbling through your words, a cold sweat on the back of your neck.

She shook her head. “Nope. We do need to have a very frank discussion now, though.”

“Oh, god, Mom,” you protested.

“Look, I don’t know what they teach you in sex ed, but I can assure you in my day it was not enough.” She grabbed the box of condoms and moved toward the living room. “And I’ll be damned if my kid doesn’t know what they’re getting into. Come on, Y/N.”

You groaned, but followed her, sitting uncomfortably on the couch across from where your mom lounged in an armchair.

“Look, I understand this might feel awkward,” she started. “It’s not the most comfortable conversation I’ve ever had either. But I want you to know you can talk to me about this even if it’s awkward. And, above all, I want you to have all the information and resources you need to be safe. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said quietly. 

Your mom exhaled heavily, then looked at you. “Alright, first things first, are you sexually active?”

You thought your face might be permanently flushed at this point. “No. Not… not yet. It’s not what you think, I just… my friends all are and I– I wanted to be ready I guess.”

She nodded. “Okay. That’s okay. When you’re ready and who that’s with, those are your decisions, okay? But I want you to keep in mind when you get into those situations to think about how you’re feeling.”

“Like… what kind of feelings?”

“Well,” your mom shrugged. “I mean, for starters, does it feel good?”

“Oh my god, Mom!” you squealed, burying your face in a pillow.

“Sorry! But, as I’m sure you know, sex is supposed to feel good! I’ve had sex that felt great and sex that felt like shit, and sometimes I didn’t realize that “not feeling good” was a good enough reason to stop.”

You groaned into the pillow. You did not want to hear about your mom’s sex life. You knew she was just trying to educate you and help you and she was but… ugh! Why’d it have to be so awkward?!

She was in full mom mode now, her voice stern like a teacher’s. “When you’re in a situation where you’re thinking about having sex, you need to ask yourself, Do I feel safe? Do I feel good? Do I want to do this because I want to do it or because someone else wants me to?”

You nodded, exhaling slowly.

“And anytime you decide you want to stop, any time it doesn’t feel good or safe, the other person stops. Always. If they don’t, that is abusive behavior and you can call for help or do whatever you need to do to get safe.”

“I know all this already, Mom,” you needled. “Consent is king, blah, blah, blah.”

“And that goes for you, too,” she added, pointing at you. “If someone you’re with gives you anything less than wholehearted consent, or if they decide they want to stop, you stop. If they’re drunk or high, stop. If you’re drunk or high, stop.”

“Of course,” you said, throwing your hands up. “I would never, Mom. You know that.”

“I know, but…” She took a long sip of her wine. “It bears repeating.” She patted her leg. “Alright, now we get down to the dirty details.”

“Mom!” You were terrified. Exactly what kind of dirty details needed to be gotten down to!?

She cracked a smile. “I’ll try not to make it too hard on you, honey. Now, are you on birth control?”

You shook your head and gestured toward the box of condoms. “I mean, I was gonna be safe, though…”

Your mom shook her head and pulled out her phone. “Condoms aren’t 100% effective. I’ll make an appointment for you this week so we can get you on it. I will ask you not to engage in any sexual activity until after your birth control becomes effective, though, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you mumbled.

“Now, are you planning on having sex with women at all?”

“I–” Your voice caught in your throat. “No, I mean… I don’t think so.”

“Okay, well, just in case…” she said, holding up her hands defensively. “If you have sex with a woman, you still need to be cautious about STDs. Just be open with one another about your sexual history. I’m happy to take you to get an STD screening anytime you want. I have some dental dams around here somewhere, too, if you want them, but I think STD screenings are more effective with women.”

Suddenly, you were looking at your mom with new eyes. “You know a lot about being with women…” you observed.

Your mom gave you a look of equal parts love and equal parts pity. “Oh, honey. Why do you think your babysitters always stayed the night after I got back from working cases?”

Your jaw dropped. “You– what!?”

“The only people I trusted you with for that long were girlfriends, honey.” She took another swig of wine.

“You’re bi!?’

“Honey, we’ve talked about this,” your mom insisted. “When we first started talking about sex in elementary school, remember? I told you 99% of the time I liked women better.”

You felt like you were losing your mind. “You just said that you had better connections with women! Not that you sleep with women!”

“Is that right?” Emily said, wincing. “Yikes. My bad, sweetheart. I guess I just assumed you would have put two and two together by now.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’m just fucking dumb,” you grumbled, still shaken.

“You’re not dumb.” Your mom sighed.” I should have been more up front. We had pride flags and everything, though! We even went to Pride!”

You shrugged. “I just thought you were a really passionate ally.”

You looked up and your mom’s shoulders were shaking with laughter, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her. When you both finally calmed down, she exhaled sharply.

“Alright, just a few more things. I promise!” she added when you groaned.

She looked at the ceiling, as if trying to summon all of her advice about sex.

“If a guy doesn’t want to wear a condom, do not sleep with him. They’ll try to say it doesn’t feel the same and maybe it doesn’t. I don’t give a fuck personally. The risk of getting pregnant is way more concerning to me than the risk of him having a slightly less great sexual experience. Always use a condom with a man.”

You nodded.

“The good news is, you’ll always have enough,” your mom grinned, pointing to the box.

You blushed and giggled.

"In all seriousness, though, condoms do expire. They last... three to five years, I think? But don't use an expired condom, it breaks down more easily."

She exhaled heavily. "Now, this last part is the most important, okay?” Your mom set her wine down, stood, and moved to sit next to you, taking your hand in hers. You avoided her eyes, cheeks red.

“If you ever feel in danger or in trouble, if you ever get pregnant, if you ever need help, you call me.”

She squeezed your hand, and you squeezed hers back. No matter how excruciatingly awkward this conversation had been, no matter how much you kind of wished you were anywhere else, you knew your mom would be there for you. You were glad to have a mom who wasn’t judgy, one who helped you be safe and trusted you to make good decisions. One who would help you even if you didn’t make good decisions.

“Alright?” she prompted. “You call me. And you be safe.”

And it was only then when you looked at your mom that you realized that as hard as this conversation had been for you, it might have been harder for her. She was a protective woman, your mom, an FBI agent. She’d literally kill someone before letting you get hurt. It was hard for her to let you go, probably. Hard for her to let you grow up.

“I will, Mom. I promise,” you assured her.

She exhaled deeply and kissed the top of your head, then gave you a light whack on the arm. “Alright. That’s all I’ve got. You can get back to your… geometry or whatever you’re working on.”

“Trig,” you corrected.

She nodded, sinking back into the armchair with her glass of wine, seemingly relieved the conversation was over.

“Oh, Y/N?” she called just as you stepped into the hallway. You turned to look at her, then blushed as she held your jumbo box of condoms up to you.

“Don’t forget your condoms, honey,” she chuckled. You snatched them from her blushing, but smiled as you turned back to your room. When you thought about it, you really did have a cool mom.

[crownofgildedlilies]

i would love a percy blurb w the horrible summer party prompt! maybe like he floods the house a lil so it causes a distraction and the two can get out lmaoo. thank u i love ur writing <3

that just screams Percy I'm obsessed

based on this post opening requests up for blurbs with certain prompts!

take me away!

pairing: percy jackson x greek demigod!reader

Really, if you thought about it, you could blame the horrendous party on Ares.

You weren't even sure which of his children had the brilliant idea to throw the party, a desperate attempt to win the favor of someone else at camp you couldn't remember the name of, but you figured Ares had caused enough strife in your life that it was completely fair to blame him.

At least, Percy agreed with you.

"If we leave now, they'll notice," You hummed, hand tugging on the hem of Percy's shirt to keep him close to you. Not that your boyfriend had any intentions of going far, at all, but he had already taken a step towards the cabin exit.

"How will they notice?" He countered, frowning down at you, and you couldn't help the grin on your lips as you pushed forward and kissed his chin quickly.

"Because you're Percy Jackson at an Ares party." You pinched his side. Just because you had forced Percy to try out the party with you, didn't mean it wasn't strange that he had willingly gone. "I think everyone is waiting for Clarisse to come fight you."

"All the more reason for us to leave," Percy emphasized his words with a gentle squeeze of his hands on your hips, and you only rolled your eyes. "Seriously, it's so lame here. They didn't even get anyone from Hermes to steal snacks from town!"

You couldn't help but agree. The music was dry, there were barely any refreshments, and the Ares cabin had an energy like at the start of a fight. Sometimes it was energizing, but now it only felt stifling.

"We can't just walk out. We need to think of an excuse—"

The words had barely passed your lips before Percy was grinning and a sudden round of screaming rose from the back of the cabin where the bathrooms were.

"What did you do?" You hissed with narrowed eyes at Percy, but he just winked and slipped his hand into yours, tugging you towards the exit while everyone else moved to find the source of the commotion.

You were pretty sure you heard someone shout something about broken pipes, but you and Percy were long gone, sprinting across camp with him leading until he came to a stop at the edge of the canoe lake.

"Percy!" You laughed, a little high on adrenaline, and he wrapped you in his arms as he caught his breath, chuckles vibrating in his own chest along with you. "Please tell me you didn't do what I think you just did."

"You said we needed an excuse!" He defended, pulling back slightly from the hug to grin in a way that definitely got him out of trouble more than it should have with you. "Broken toilets spraying water everywhere is a pretty good one. Besides, I gave everyone else at the party an excuse to leave, too."

"I could have just pretended to be sick!"

And maybe it was a little ridiculous to find his logic so endearing, but you held his face between your hands and kissed him soundly, the only sound being the gentle waves lapping against the shore and crickets in the trees.

His hands fell to your waist, warm and strong, pulling you flush against his front. He tasted like sea salt and the Diet Coke he'd drank at dinner, and you thought you could kiss him forever, but soon enough your giggles interrupted and you broke apart.

Percy was grinning at you, so wide you couldn't help but brush the pads of your thumbs against the corners of it. He was the first to speak, voice low and filled to the brim with admiration.

"Maybe I should break toilets more often."

"Just wait until Clarisse finds out it was you, Jackson."

[kesujo]

Chapter 3 - Emergency

Previous chapter here.

Parker had lived the last few days in perpetual anxiety. Every time his phone buzzed he jumped, every time a knock came on his door he panicked, and every time he would be relieved that it wasn’t Jessica. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he would interact with Jessica after Hunter came back the very next day; he certainly wasn’t looking forward to navigating that awkward space. On top of that, how Parker would deal with Jessica the next time Hunter needed to go away for an extended period of time? Maybe he would line up his vacation days with Hunter’s business trips—but was that even feasible?

But now that he had reached the day before Hunter’s return, Parker felt like he could finally see the light: Hunter would come home and Jessica would stop with all her shenanigans. No way would she have the confidence to continue to cheat on her husband while he was home or a couple dozen minutes’ drive from it.

So perhaps Parker had let his guard down a little too much when he checked his phone, and by the time he noticed the text was from Jessica, he had already read the message.

              ‘I think something’s wrong with our toilet? It’s looking like it’s going to overflow, can you come over and help?🙏 🙏’

Attached was a picture of the toilet, the layout of the bathroom in the background being something he was unfortunately pretty familiar with already thus confirming that it was an actual picture taken of their apartment’s toilet with definitely too much water in it. However, that was the curious part: why was there only water? A toilet should only gain water after flushing, but why would she flush if she didn’t need to use it?

When Parker pointed this out, Jessica responded a few seconds later.

              ‘I heard the toilet make some kind of noise and got suspicious, so I looked at it but couldn’t find anything and tried flushing it and this happened :(’

He was at an impasse: he didn’t want to leave any evidence of his unwillingness to see Jessica in person alone, and because of this he wasn’t sure what he should do. Be baited into stepping foot into the apartment of his promiscuous next-door neighbor and risk getting roped into having sex with her again, or stay away and have an awkward conversation with Hunter about why he refused to help Jessica with their toilet problems.

 But there were two bathrooms—well, technically, one and a half as the second one only had the toilet, sink, and mirror—so Jessica could just use that one, couldn’t she? But the more he thought about it, the worse he felt. It probably wasn’t even that difficult of a fix, and what if Jessica needed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, not thinking about her overflooded toilet, and end up with a mess? What was he going to say if Jessica brought this up to Hunter as retribution? Even if Parker wanted to use the excuse that he didn’t know how to fix it, why not at least try?

So, Parker did the best to steel himself before trudging back through the door next to his, and to his surprise found Jessica exiting the ‘office’ of their apartment—the extra room in the residence the couple made into an office space for use of both Jessica’s at-home work and Hunter’s convenience if he ever needed to work from home—to greet him in a relatively normal casual attire: an oversized, comfortable-looking silky white robe draped over her slim frame, loosely tied around her body but not enough to hide her great figure, the shining cloth stopping just above midway down her upper thigh. “Hey Parker, thanks for—why do you look so surprised?”

Parker shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Ah, are you shocked to see me in such normal attire?” she added with a suggestive smirk, slipping the robe down to expose one of her shoulders, “Were you expecting something a little sexier? Or maybe you want your repayment to be…”

“No, it’s really fine,” he insisted, marching past the giggling woman, “What have you tried so far?”

Jessica shrugged, pushing the robe back over her shoulders. “Not much, I didn’t want to make things worse so I just sorta left it. I have some of my own work to do, so do you mind if I just leave you in my bathroom?”

Parker almost couldn’t believe his ears. Was she not going to sexually harass him? Granted, it was only two encounters, but to his credit, it was their two most recent encounters that Parker started having this expectation of Jessica. “Yeah, no problem, I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

“Thanks! I left some tools I thought might be helpful in the bathroom, but if you need anything else, I’ll be in the office.” And with that, Jessica turned around and left a completely shell-shocked, but immensely grateful, Parker by himself.

The job itself didn’t take too long, and when he finished, he placed everything Jessica provided for him on the bathroom counter and headed out. “Jessica, I—”

He should’ve known better. That’s what Parker thought to himself when he stepped out of the bedroom and was met with Jessica, who had loosened up the robe to expose her entire neckline, the robe draped over her slim shoulders and revealing the beautiful laced two-piece lingerie underneath, her bountiful cleavage just barely visible.

Before Jessica could open her mouth, Parker interrupted her. “Text me if you’re still having problems, I gotta—”

Jessica grabbed his wrist before he could reach the foyer. “Why are you leaving without your payment?” she said, her sultry, sexy voice sending chills down his spine.

“No need,” he answered simply, tugging to get his hand free but surprisingly unable to do so. He looked back in shock, Jessica just wearing her now signature playful, seductive smirk.

“I insist,” she told him, pulling him towards her with a surprising amount of strength. Parker tumbled towards her a few steps, not suspecting her to do such a thing, ending up right in front of her. He was standing almost an entire head taller than Jessica, but she stood her ground, unintimidated and unphased, looking up at him with a confident gaze. “Unless, you want me to tell Hunter that you were unwilling to receive payment…?”

There it was. Her trump card. Parker hated how effective it was, but every time he entertained the possibility of Jessica leaking that information to his best friend and the resulting fallout from it, as much as he doubted Jessica would actually do it, that horrifying thought triumphed over every other emotion and potential course of action. “But—…why?” he replied, the frustration and desperation he was feeling seeping into his voice.

Jessica’s lips pulled into a frown, clasping his left hand with both of hers. “Do you…do you hate it that much?”

Parker’s heart nearly stopped. It was such a genuine display of sorrow, like she was a puppy and he had just kicked her, that he felt his insides twist inside as regret wracked his conscious. “No!” he replied automatically, feeling a little relief when Jessica’s facial expression lifted in joy and relief, “I mean—it’s not that—fuck.” What was it that he was saying—that he didn’t mind having sex with Jessica? “I mean I just—we shouldn’t do this. You can repay me some other way, but I got something else to, um, do.”

But Jessica wasn’t having any of it. She pulled him out of the foyer with renewed vigor, saying, “No, I want to repay you now,” she insisted, throwing her silky white robe off and tossing it to the side, leaving her only in her sexy lingerie. “Pants off,” she instructed, pulling him into the kitchen.

“Here?!”

Jessica nodded, excitement shining in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I pulled down all the blinds, no one will be able to see us—although, now that I mention it, that’s also pretty hot—”

“No no no,” the flustered man insisted, trying to back up but getting immediately pulled back by the scantily-clad woman in front of him, “We can’t—not here—” he stopped, sharply inhaling upon feeling Jessica’s slim digits slipping in between the hem of his boxers and his skin, trapping both layers of fabric between her fingers.

“Right. Here.” she insisted, pulling both his pants and boxers down in one motion, his already semi-erect dick springing out. Her gaze immediately locked onto it, her eyes lighting up. “Ooh, looks like you’re already getting prepared~” she teased with a grin exuding a child-like excitement, guiding him to the nearest chair and seating him on it, “But also like you might need a little more convincing.” Parker grimaced as Jessica got on her knees, her delicate fingers wrapping around his shaft while she did so.

Parker found himself frozen, unsure of what to do—he knew the repercussions of fighting back, but he also didn’t want to just let Jessica do whatever she wanted. When her face was positioned just centimeters in front of his cock, she looked up and shot him a beaming smile before his tip disappeared between her full, plump lips.

“Fuck,” was Parker’s automatic reaction, a moan accompanied by a sudden injection of pleasure as he watched Jessica’s alluring lips wrap tightly around the circumference of his cock, feeling the warm, wet, tight cavern of her mouth squeeze the length of his member. His fingers and toes naturally curled up as her skillful tongue ran along the underside of his dick, carefully coating it with her saliva. Seated on the chair, Jessica’s hands placed firmly on either side of his crotch, her eyes closed and her hair bobbing with the movement of her head as she took more and more of his cock inside her mouth, Parker couldn’t deny that the sight wasn’t sexy. But the thought that his was his best friend’s wife— “Fuck, Jessica, let’s not,” Parker begged, his plea falling on deaf ears.

“It’s so exciting, isn’t it?” the women clad in white lingerie said after releasing his dick, her delicate digits taking its place, wrapped firmly around the slippery length of his cock. By now, his dick was fully erect, Parker grimacing as waves of euphoria shot up his spine. He looked at the woman kneeling before him with a half-concerned, half-frustrated expression, something that didn’t seem to phase Jessica at all—in fact, it seemed to motivate her even more, the speed of her handjob increasing. “Having sex in the kitchen, the very place Hunter and I eat our meals every day, with his best friend,” she continued, her voice filled to the brim with lust and arousal.

“You have a really messed up definition of ‘exciting’,” Parker muttered, Jessica’s only response being a joyful giggle, shortly afterwards taking his dick back inside her mouth again. He hissed, another wave of ecstasy shooting up his body—and as much as he tried to hide it, the suddenness of it as well as the sheer pleasure from feeling his cock being sucked between her tight lips drew out enough of a reaction for Jessica to notice. Seeing it turned her on even more, her legs twitching slightly from the building arousal that was slowly overwhelming her body, her cheeks bulging with Parker’s cock and her juices starting to dribble down her slim, milky-white thighs.

Parker felt the tension in his nether regions start to tighten, only sped along when Jessica decided to use her hands in addition to her mouth, expertly twisting and pulling his shaft when her mouth retreated, her tongue dancing along the length of his shaft as it did so. His shaft was so slick with Jessica’s saliva that he could barely tell when his precum leaked out, Jessica lapping it up instantly. “Mmm,” she hummed in appreciation, her lips once again releasing Parker’s dick from the tight confines of her tight cavern, curling up into a smile. “Are you getting close?”

Parker, not knowing how to respond, simply just looked at her. “You—”

“Oh, I think I know what you need,” she said, pulling down her lacey bra, her abundant breasts springing free from its confines. Parker diverted his gaze, still having feelings of guilt at seeing the naked breasts of the betrothed of this closest friend, but not before noticing how her nipples were already standing away from her mounds, proudly erect. He swore under his breath, feeling himself get a little harder at the realization that the blowjob and handjob was actually turning Jessica on.

She pooled the undergarment underneath her tits and leaned forward, trapping his slick shaft in a hot, tight embrace between her twin mountains. His eyes were drawn back to the sight before him: Jessica’s tits, held in place by her own hands and were otherwise resting on his lap, almost completely engulfing the length of his member. But while the size of Jessica’s tits was nothing to scoff at, Parker’s dick was big enough to have an inch or two to spare. “Ooh, impressive, it’s sticking out,” Jessica noted, her eyes trained on the cock trapped in between her boobs, “I always had a feeling you were bigger than Hunter, but this proves it.”

“What the fuck are you saying?”

Jessica smiled at him. “What?” she asked innocently, “You may be bigger, but he knows how to use his package more.”

Parker almost wanted to contest that statement but then realized he didn’t need to—after all, Jessica would probably just tease him even more, not to mention that he didn’t need to compete with Hunter. None of this was his decision, anyway. “He comes back tomorrow doesn’t he? Surely you can wait one day if you’re horny,” Parker once again tried to appeal to Jessica. Of course, as always, it failed.

“But,” she replied, biting her lower lip and squeezing her tits together, creating such a tight pressure around Parker’s cock he couldn’t help but hiss again, the action being all he could do to stop himself from outright moaning, “I want you. You know, I’ve been masturbating to you the past few days, but it was never satisfying enough. Now that I have the real thing, I want to just milk you dry,” Jessica put extra emphasis on the last three words, rubbing her tits along the length of his shaft and thereby leaving some of her saliva onto them.

“But—” this time, Parker was unable to suppress his moan as Jessica’s lips recaptured the tip of his dick, her tongue masterfully dancing around it in an erotic whirlwind of moves, lapping up a bit more of his precum that had leaked out while simultaneously pumping his cock with her tits. With every pump, Jessica’s mouth made its way a bit further down his shaft, her boobs pressing against his groin harder and harder. “Be rough with me Parker,” she urged, tilting her head up to look at him. Parker, however, couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze, his face already being slightly flushed. “Where was that aggression from our first two sessions?” she teased him, the guilt Parker was feeling only doubling down. “Grab my hair,” she instructed, grabbing his hands and guiding them to the back of her head, onto the silky-smooth texture of her almond hair, “and fuck my face.” With that, she unceremoniously dove back down onto his cock, her lips once again sealing around his thick member.

He reluctantly obeyed, pulling and pushing her head along with her rhythm. Jessica’s lips traveled closer and closer to his groin until eventually, her boobs became enough of a hindrance that she slipped them out and let them hang freely in front of his cock, now pressing against his balls as she readjusted her position to allow better access to his cock. While doing this, she opened her eyes and gave him a stern look, something Parker recognized instantly. Biting back his hesitance and regret and guilt, he gripped her hair harder and began using more force.

He could hear—he could feel her moan reverberate on his dick as her tightly sealed lips slid along the length of his dick, her tongue coating every inch of it with saliva. This time, perhaps because she was in less control, Jessica started to drool, dribbles of saliva running down her perfectly proportioned face—but she didn’t care. It took another two minutes before Jessica released his dick again, Parker breathing a sigh of relief, although that feeling didn’t last long as she immediately replaced it with her tits. “I know you can be rougher,” she said sternly, “use me like I’m your personal sex toy,” she told him, her lust apparent in her erratic pumping of her tits along his shaft, as if she was using them as a towel to dry off her spit, “We’re not going to stop until I’m satisfied.”

With that, she dove back down, and while Parker’s hands found their grip on Jessica’s hair again, he noticed Jessica’s own hands traveling down her body and cupping around her voluptuous ass, a sharp intake and moan following the slick sound of her fingers entering herself. The sight and sound turned him on even more, and this time, rather than be weighed down by the guilt of feeling such a thing, he used it as fuel to finish this as quickly as possible: his grip on Jessica’s hair tightened and he pushed her head all the way down his cock, thrusting upwards in conjunction, the result being his tip quickly hitting the back of her throat. Not even noticing the near absence of a gagging noise, he continued forcing Jessica’s mouth down his cock, her nose pressing against his groin with each thrust, but he didn’t care.

Jessica’s muffled moans and heavy breathing increased, her entire body shaking both with the force of Parker’s movements and her fingers sliding in and out of her own pussy, her free hand resting on his upper thigh as a stabilizer. Parker could feel Jessica’s erratic movements speeding up to match his own, opening her eyes and locking gazes with him. He looked back down at her, looked at her mouth being continuously impaled by his dick, her light-brown hair swaying about frantically, her eyes clouded with need and lust. The tension building in his lower stomach built and built until he knew he was at the edge. “I’m close,” he grunted, Jessica replying only with a simple encouraging nod. Knowing he had no other choice, with a final groan, he broke their eye lock and released directly into her mouth.

Not missing a beat, her hand emerged from behind her to help brace herself—traces of her juices splashing onto his upper thigh—as she accepted every surge of semen entering her mouth with ease, her cheeks bulging with both his dick and its seed. After finishing, Parker leaned back in the chair to take a breather as Jessica once again let go of his cock, her cheeks still bulging slightly with his semen. She sat on her hind legs, her eyes still trained on Parker, her lips pulled into a smile. After finally locking eyes with him, she swished the hot substance inside her mouth with her tongue a few times before swallowing it. “Mmm,” she hummed with delight, her eyes being drawn towards Parker’s slowly hardening erection. “Looks like you got more,” she noted, scooching closer to him again.

“No, I can’t,” he feigned exhaustion, cursing at himself as his eyes inadvertently fell upon Jessica’s hardened nipples, and then to her legs shining with her own juices in an attempt to divert his gaze, finally just turning his head and looking away, his erection growing even more at the erotic sight.

“I believe in you,” she said cheekily, delicately wrapping her slim digits around his cock still slippery with her own saliva. Parker clenched his teeth, feeling his arousal building yet again as Jessica rubbed the hardening member, stimulating the nerves on the sensitive sex organ.

“Jessica—” he bit his lip, suppressing another moan as Jessica once again enveloped his cock in the hot, tight embrace of her tits, pumping it along the length of his shaft. “I already came, let me go home,” he begged, Jessica tilting her head in a manner much too cute for someone who was drying her spit off his dick with her boobs.

“And leave me here all horny like this? I don’t think so,” she said, releasing her boobs’ embrace of his cock after a few more pumps. She stood up afterwards, the panties that she had pushed halfway down her legs now pushed onto the ground, the white-lace bra similarly dropped onto the ground along with its matching pair. “Come here. And strip fully.”

Parker watched Jessica walk into the kitchen; upon noticing Parker hesitate, she looked back at him with questioning eyes. Understanding the meaning behind the implied question, Parker sighed and got up, letting his pants and boxers drop to the ground, throwing off his shirt as well before joining her. He felt out of place, like there was a pervading sense of something not being right—except this time that feeling was spot on, considering he was walking around naked inside the residence he had meals with his best friend just a week ago. As he neared Jessica, who was resting on the kitchen’s island table, he noticed her eyes trained on his lower chest, admiring his abs. “Man, if only you were able to put those muscles to use and fuck me like a rabbit in heat,” she commented.

“This is so wrong, holy fuck,” the words tumbled out of Parker’s mouth, the strangeness of the situation forcing the words out of his mouth.

“It is, isn’t it? That’s why it’s so fun though,” Jessica replied with great excitement in her voice, turning around and resting her elbows on the black marble island table, sticking her luscious ass at him, using her slim digits to spread her luscious ass cheeks apart to reveal a mess of shimmering folds situated in the middle, damp with her precum. “It’s about time you fed my other lips your white honey.”

Parker carefully placed his hands on her wide hips, a surge of something rushing through his body upon feeling the soft skin fill his palms and looking at the beautiful pair of vaginal lips, glistening in the bright kitchen light from the sexy woman’s juices, her silky white legs twitching in excitement. But the more he neared Jessica, the more hesitant he became; what if they messed up? What if they accidentally left a trace of their crime somewhere? How could he even look Hunter in the face ever again? Or eat another meal on the table in the chair his dear wife gave a blowjob/handjob/titjob to his best friend?

“Fuck, Parker, hurry,” she whined impatiently, turning her head to look back at him, “I need to feel your thick cock filling my tight cunt~”

Another wave of guilt struck him as he felt his cock twitch in response to her dirty talk, Parker gritting his teeth. Why was he going along with this? Where would this put them? How was he going to interact with the two in the future? Weren’t these the type of things that always, inevitably, were discovered by the husband and ended in divorce? Was Parker just helping this process along? “This is—I can’t,” he said, his grip loosening on her waist. Jessica’s gaze turned from lustful and expectant to confused and … worried?

“Remem—”

“I don’t want to be the cause of your divorce,” Parker said, stepping away from the woman bent over the island table in the kitchen, “I-I don’t know what’s happened between you two recently, but I don’t want to be involved in it.”

Jessica turned around, her confused look eventually turning into a smile with such warmth that it momentarily shocked the guilt out of Parker. “Ooh, so you think I’m doing all of this because you think my relationship with Hunter has been going down the drain?”

“…So what is it then?” Parker said, taking a step back as Jessica took one towards him.

“The sex has still been great,” she reassured him, “I just … let’s say had a sudden realization, or maybe you can say motivation,” she suddenly lurched forward, grabbing Parker’s hands before he could create much more distance, “Don’t worry, Hunter and I are still fine—the only way you can ruin our marriage is if you decide to disobey me. Now come back and fuck me already,” she said, pulling him back to the kitchen table, letting him go inches away from the edge of the island table before turning around to present her delectable ass to him. “That kind of thing you should only worry about if you don’t stuff my pussy full with your cock right now,” the last two words were spoken with impatience, the lust returning to her voice.

Parker, who had admittedly gotten a bit softer in that brief exchange, found himself instantly getting hard again as his eyes shifted onto his target: Jessica’s wet folds, the beautiful set of pink pussy lips quivering in the cool air of the apartment invitingly. His hands returned to Jessica’s waist, an action that caused a slight gasp and an eager turn of the head. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, trying to swallow the guilt that was giving him pause. He closed the distance, running his shaft along Jessica’s drenched entrance, the brunette letting out a sexy squeal in soprano, her legs visibly shaking in response.

“Fu-Fuck~” her back arched, her hips bucking in an attempt to get more contact with the object of her pleasure. With just a few rubs, Parker could feel nearly his entire shaft completely covered in Jessica’s bodily fluids again—except this time, it wasn’t her saliva. “Fuck, I’m going to video call Hunter right now if you don’t fucking stick that monster inside me right now,” she moaned in a frustrated voice.

Parker acquiesced, using a hand to line it up before swiftly pushing his dick inside the warm confines of Jessica’s womanhood.

A loud moan erupted from Jessica, Parker grimacing at feeling the moist walls tightly hugging his shaft gliding past his length. “Oh god,” Jessica breathed out, her eyes fluttering shut, “Fuck, god it feels so fucking good,” her hips, which Parker had returned to placing both hands on, aided the process of fully entering her. “Come here, bend over and massage my tits,” she instructed, Parker again acquiescing, groaning at the feeling of the sexy woman’s ass pressing against his groin as he bent over the curvaceous woman and reached around her shoulders, both hands cupping her mounds that were almost touching the cold marble surface of the table they were leaning against.

Parker could start to feel that tension in his lower region start growing again, the simultaneous attack of the soft, malleable skin in his palms combined with the hot, wet muscle wrapped tightly around his cock as he continued to advance, stopping every so often to give Jessica time to accommodate the guest before resuming. It was over a minute, maybe two, of nothing but the melodic moans of Jessica filling both the room and Parker’s ears before he finally buried his dick to the hilt inside the woman wracked with ecstasy. “Fuck, you’re that fucking big huh?” Jessica gasped, feeling his now drenched groin, wet with her own juices, firmly pressed against her ass. “I’m going to use this opportunity to train you: speak to me as you would fucking the sex-crazed slut I am.”

“Wh-What?”

A grin found themselves on Jessica’s lips as she turned her head, looking directly into Parker’s eyes that were just inches away from her own. He diverted his gaze in embarrassment, his face flushed a noticeable shade of pink. “As I said. Call me a dirty whore that cheats on her husband, tell me how much you love fucking my tight pussy, or how you love feeling my ass slap against your groin as you pound me into the table I make my husband meals for. Tell me how you love feeling my tits in your hands as your cock destroys my cunt, how you love the sound I make while pinching my nipples, or how the color red contrasting my pale skin turns you on; tell me how you love using my body like your personal play thing and then coat the inside of my pussy with your cum.”

“…I can’t—I can’t do that.”

While that was what Parker said, his body reacted differently. Just hearing the slew of filthy words leave Jessica’s pretty lips stirred something inside him. What was it? A building lust, hidden under layers of ‘properness’? A primal desire buried under years of built-up intellect? Now more than ever, he felt his lust and desire being held back by a thread, the surging tidal wave of arousal pushing against the wall of guilt and societal standards, testing his patience and self-control.

Jessica ground her hips against Parker’s, eliciting a moan from the unsuspecting man. “Practice makes perfect,” she told him, a billowing tension building in her lower regions the more she felt the intrusive object stir her insides, “Plus, if you don’t…” from seemingly out of nowhere, Jessica grabbed her phone—the same one that took the scandalous picture—from off the table and waved it playfully at him.

It was those words that pushed him to make a decision.

Holding back, trying not to give in to the delectable meal Jessica presented in front of him, was a mountainous task. Dealing with the potential result of him perpetually holding back and disobeying Jessica was also a mountainous challenge: losing a friend that close to him, not to mention the immense guilt he would feel knowing he was the cause of Hunter’s devastation, was just a wall too steep to climb. But if he just let go and gave in, he could kill two birds with one stone—so he let down the wall and let the torrent of lust and desire pour in, to overtake his body and submit to the beast raring to fuck the tantalizing woman before him to oblivion.

“You really are persistent, aren’t you?” Parker growled directly into Jessica’s ear, the woman moaning loudly in response to Parker’s fierce thrust. The words coming out of his words just felt … wrong. His stomach churned and his brain fired off massive ‘holy fuck this is bad’ signals. But at the same time, he could feel his more primal instincts within him directing his movements: Jessica’s sexy figure bent in front of him, her pussy lips spread wide apart to accommodate his cock wedged firmly in between the wet folds; her ass and wide hips showing off her smooth, milky white skin; her gently arched back, her slim arms resting on the table, dribbles of her precum trailing down her long legs … at this moment, he had no need for logical, rational, moral thoughts. “You like taking the cock of your husband’s best friend that much?”

“Y-Yes!” she moaned, her arch backing and her breasts being pushed into Parker’s hands. He took advantage of it and squeezed the soft skin underneath his palms, kneading them as if they were Playdough. They readily responded, her supple skin surrendering to his absolute will, Jessica moaning loudly again as she felt her tits roughed up by the man’s large hands. “I-I’m a naughty wife who loves feeling her pussy pounded in by her next-door neighbor’s thick cock!” her voice came out shakily, her entire body shaking with the force of Parker’s thrusts.

It was like a beautiful melody: the melodic sounds of his sex organ ramming into hers, the harmonic string of salacious sounds emitted from her mouth, even the percussive grunts occasionally escaping Jessica and Parker’s mouths from the force of his thrusts, it was all a masterpiece that only pushed Parker deeper into his trance. “Your pussy is so fucking tight and your entire lower body is drenched, does my cock really turn you on that much?”

“Y-Yes!” was her breathless reply.

“You want me to rub your tits red? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t pick your husband up at the airport tomorrow?”

“Yes! Fuck me harder!”

Hearing the words roll off her tongue, slightly slurred from the delirium incurred by the pleasure Jessica was experiencing, only pulled him deeper into the pit of desire. He felt a fire burn inside his body, every fiber of his being burning with desire, his mind clouded in an impossibly dense steamy fog of lust, the pleasure coming up his body in waves from the penis that was being suffocated by the tight, wet walls of Jessica fueling it. “Your ass is so goddamn soft, fuck it feels so good,” he said, moving his right hand back to slap the jiggling fat on her bottom, “You like that?”

“I—fuck—I love it!” This time, her voice was audibly less controlled; on the verge of cracking, her before pure almost singsong-y words now turned into a desperate scream filled with pure, primal need.

“Tell me what you want,” he growled, slapping her ass a third time.

“Punish this naughty wife’s ass, fuck my pussy raw and slap my ass until your hand imprints on my skin!”

“You really are a fucking slut, aren’t you?” Parker growled, his lust and tsunami of pleasure overpowering the faint but noticeable bit of fatigue settling in on the lower half of his body, “Hunter’s coming home tomorrow and you want me to mark you?”

“Fuck, yes!” she moaned, screamed, the scratchy quality of it revealing how hoarse she was becoming.

“You must—” with every word, Parker’s palm made a swift, strong connection with Jessica’s ass, bouncing fiercely from the strength and speed of his movements. “Be—” Parker had to make sure to space out his words slightly to give himself ample time to wind up, tensing the muscles in his shoulder before swiftly bringing his open palm onto her bare ass. “A real—” with every slap, Jessica let out an ecstatic mewl, her nearly hoarse voice limiting the volume of her pleasure. “Bitch—” Parker could feel her walls start to clamp down on his dick even harder. She was drawing close, as was he. “In heat—” Every slap turned the previously white skin to a light shade of pink, every contact of his palm to her ass causing that area on her behind to grow a shade darker. “To want—”Watching the shockwaves ripple about Jessica’s supple ass was another sight to behold. It certainly made doing it more inviting than the mewls and moans coming from the submissive woman already made it. “Yourself marked—” Parker’s own hand started to feel the effects of his slaps, his palm also getting noticeably redder—but he didn’t care. The pleasure compensated well and above the pain from his hands. “The day—” The sound of his palm striking her ass grew more and more crisp, and both of them loved it. “Before—” Parker’s well-aimed strikes started to create a noticeable palm-like shape on her ass. While his more rational, moral side cringed and felt bad, the predominant, lustful side was just more turned on by it. “Your husband—” Parker’s shoulders were also starting to feel the fatigue, but he didn’t let up for one second. “Comes home.”

“Ahn yes—fuck—I’m your bitch,” she half-mewled, half gasped, her ass now a noticeable shade of deep red. In the back of his mind, Parker debated whether or not this would be a problem for Hunter to notice, especially since the couple were almost assured to have sex shortly after his return from his business trip, but the forefront of his mind noticed just how sexy it looked. Indeed, the stark contrast between her pure, snowy-white skin with the harsh red hue on her ass only turned him on even more.

The previously guilt-ridden man, his inhibitions now released, was unrelenting. With every thrust inside Jessica’s tight cavern, with every slap of the succulent skin on her butt, he pushed Jessica further and further against the cold, unyielding black marble island table, the delicate skin on the other side of her ass started growing a similar shade of red, albeit not as dark. The coldness bit into her privates, the contrast with the hot connection just inches away turning her arousal up to 11. Sure it was painful, but to Jessica, that pain was heavenly. Feeling Parker’s lips on her neck, nipping at her soft skin on her nape while he rubbed her tits raw, pushing and pinching and pulling the sizable pair of mounds, she found her eyes starting to roll to the back of her head. “Parker, choke me~”

Those words gave him hesitation. Even the primal instincts that were driving him halted for a brief moment, taking a second to process the words. Sensing the hesitation, Jessica reached down and directed the hand on her breast to her delicate-looking neck. But despite Jessica’s command and despite feeling Jessica’s thin, delicate nape against the palm of his hand and fingers, he couldn’t bring himself to even close his fingers around her frail-seeming neck. “Choke. Me.” Jessica demanded, shooting him a glare, filled with a strange mixture of impatience, frustration, and lust. “I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”

Parker obliged, his fingers wrapping around the sides of her nape. He could hear Jessica’s moan of satisfaction, his fingers slowly increasing in grip strength. “Harder,” she egged him on, her previously well-combed hair now chaotically flailing about as her entire body shook with their synchronized movements, his other hand resting on her waist while the hand around her neck slowly closing in on the beautiful, alluring woman. “More—fuck, I’m so close,” she said, impatient.

Parker couldn’t help but feel himself cringe as he increased his grip strength, genuinely scared that what he held in his hand would snap at any moment. Surprisingly, it held firm, her movements become more erratic and her pussy clamping down on his cock the more he tightened his grip on the small woman’s neck. Soon, Jessica found herself unable to make much noise at all. The simultaneous attack of pleasure from all sources: the faint but noticeable, stinging pain on her ass; a raw, stretched feeling on her tits and swollen, erect nipples; the cold stinging pain at the front side of her crotch as it repeatedly rubbed and was pushed onto the cold, marble surface; Parker’s cock stuffed to the brim inside her, each thrust bringing with it a wave of euphoria; her pussy walls convulsing around the shaft of the phallic object being pumped inside her as its tip lightly kissed the entrance of her womb before retreating again; the wet sound of his groin slapping against her ass, the resulting shockwave barely having much time to settle before the next stroke; the delicious, delicious pain coming from the firm pressure on her neck; the sudden reduction in oxygen intake causing slight light-headedness; everything at once was simply overwhelming. Her mind filled with nothing but ecstatic pleasure, her eyes half-lidded with tears gently rolling down her cheeks, her plump lips parted and her tongue almost lolled out of her mouth, her chest heaving as it attempted to make up for the pressure around her nape, her tits being pressed against the cold island table as a result, she couldn’t even give Parker a warning before climaxing.

“Fuck, it’s so hot,” Parker cursed, feeling the rush of bodily fluid wash over his cock, “You really came without warning me first, huh?” Parker’s deep growl filled Jessica’s eardrums that only turned her on even more, removing his hand from Jessica’s neck, “You really want to be punished, don’t you?”

She nodded fiercely, her entire body convulsing violently with her orgasm, the shaking causing Parker’s dick to almost act like a stirring stick for the soup of erotic fluids inside the married woman’s vagina.

“You want me to fill your pretty, slutty pussy with my cum?”

She nodded fiercely once more, her mind still on cloud nine from the high she was experiencing from her orgasm, having not been able to find her voice quite yet.

“Do you want it? Tell me how badly you want me to cum inside you.”

“I—” Jessica coughed, her voice slightly hoarse, but continued after quickly clearing her throat, “I want to feel your hot cum inside my slutty pussy, I want to feel your thick semen fill my insides and trickling down my legs…”

“Good, then take it,” Parker grunted, the tension finally fully unraveling itself as he reached his euphoric release after one final, long, fierce stroke, rope after rope of viscous semen shooting directly into the woman bent over the sturdy marble table. Jessica joined Parker, shuddering at the sudden injection of warm, viscous liquid into her sensitive sex organ, their simultaneous moans and grunts of pleasure filling the apartment for the next few seconds until Parker’s orgasm finally subsided.

After the adrenaline in Parker’s system started to subside, fatigue settled in. He placed both hands down next to Jessica, panting desperately to catch his breath, the now all-too familiar feeling of guilt settling in as well.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. God damn it. What did he just do? Why did he allow himself to do that?

Parker pulled away from Jessica, a soft whine emitting from her. He took another look at her, the sight at which horrified him: her ass was noticeably, noticeably red, and in a shape that resembled a palm much too closely. And not only that, her neck even had traces of red fingers along her otherwise fair, pale skin. “Fuck, I—”

“Where are you going? Didn’t you say you were going to punish me?” Jessica, who had turned around and was leaning against the table, said seductively. “Cumming inside me was hardly a punishment,” she commented, her hand scooping the excess liquid dripping out of her with her slender index and middle finger, feeding it directly into her own mouth.

Parker would be lying if he said the sight didn’t turn him on, but right now, that wasn’t what he needed. He did not need to find himself in another state where he felt like the best course of action was to let his more primal instincts take over. “You—You need to take care of those,” he said, motioning towards the red streak on her tits, “We shouldn’t do any more.”

Jessica looked down and sighed. “Fuck, you’re right,” she murmured, “I almost forgot...”

He couldn’t believe it. Was Jessica actually being reasonable for once?

“Shame that we had to end there, right when it was getting fun,” she said, looking back up at him and smiling brightly, nodding at his erection that hadn’t quite fully vanished yet, “Next time, we’re not stopping until I’m done with you.”

Parker already had his back facing Jessica, picking up his boxers and pants that was laying on the tiled floor of the quaint apartment. “There’s not going to be a next time,” he stated, trying for as firm a voice as possible.

“Oh, no there will be,” she said, shortly afterwards the chaotic sounds of moans and sex filling the room. Parker whipped his head around, his eyes widening in horror as they landed on a brief video clip of Jessica’s half-lidded eyelids, parted lips, and bare tits with swollen nipples swinging about fiercely with Parker, clearly visible behind her, shaking in unison with the woman now wearing a Cheshire grin. “That is, unless you want this video to find it’s way to Hunter’s phone.”

Not wanting to think about it much longer, Parker hastily put on the rest of his clothes and rushed back to his apartment.

God … he thought this would all be over when Hunter returned, but to learn that he wasn’t safe even after Jessica’s husband returned home was disheartening. How long would this go on? Until he finally submitted to Jessica’s wiles and desires, or until Hunter finally, inevitably, caught them?

Next chapter here.

[kuniihoonii]

put a vibe in/on aven 🤤

if he's being good turn the vibe up. let the pleasure slowly build up until he's all soft and flushed~ practically begging for more

if he's being a brat- well then we get to have fun toying with the control~ keep playing with it, turn it all the way up then put it to the lowest setting, never letting him get used to one setting before changing it to another, let him squirm and think about his choices for a little~

Anon oh my god... This is so good. Aventurine would be start squirming so much when you never let him adjust to the setting. Imagine you're in a meeting or at a dinner with friends 🤭.

He's trying not to make any sounds. His legs rubbing against each other, trying to adjust to the setting but you just keep changing it. He might end up whining quietly for only you to hear.

I can imagine him folding his arms over on the table and hiding his face in them. Biting his lip so he doesn't let out any noises <3. Not giving him any mercy, at least not for now, because of how much of a brat he was being~.

Go from the lowest setting then suddenly going to the highest. His whole body might jolt from the sudden feeling <3. But he loves it too. Loves the risk of getting caught. If it gets too much for him (by that I mean he can't hide it anymore) he'll get up and go to the toilet which you'd follow him after. You can imagine what happens then <3.

NOW. If Aventurine is being good. As you said, slowly building up the setting. Imagine him getting clingy while being good for you though 🫶. Hiding his face into your shoulder. I think even if he's a brat he might do it but he also knows he might get a little punishment for doing that without permission~ ofc unless he genuinely wants that comfort <3. (I'm a bit soft for aventurine.. I might fold even if he's bratty)

Your friends wouldn't think much off it, I feel Aventurine is the type to not care much for pda so your friends are used to you both being so close already.

With his face buried in your shoulder you'll be able to hear his small gasps and shaky exhales~ maybe tiny whimpers too that only you can hear. He'll start begging you to let him finish.. let him cum already. If he's good enough, take him to the toilet and help him finish there <3.

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: gn!reader. yandere all might. stalking. breaking and entering. mild injury to reader. using prompt from here. wc: 900 (this was supposed to be under 500 and got out of hand...i may come back to this...) Yandere Minific Masterlist

You’re so perfect when you sleep.

Still, often near-silent. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re even breathing with how shallow the rise and fall of your chest can be. Toshinori’s own breathing had stopped a few times as he observed you, holding it in while he listened and watched and waited and made sure that you were still with him, still quietly existing in slumber just mere feet away.

He had first seen you at the tea shop you both frequented, your laughter filling his chest with a flutter he hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t long before he became addicted to you, daring to speak to you now and again and compliment your hair or comment on your drink order, anything to bask in the radiant glow of your smile. But it wasn’t enough to see you at the shop, even though he’d memorized your schedule and knew just when he’d find you there with a book in your hand, a straw delicately positioned between your lips.

It took very little effort to find where you lived, even less to enter your apartment—he hadn’t forgotten how to tail someone. And night after night, he fed his obsession and watched you sleep, never daring to show up during daylight hours and simply knock on your door. You probably would have invited him in—that’s just the way you seemed to be, at least the version of you he’d constructed in his head—but it was all too much. The thought of rejection, of disappointment, was far too much to fathom. It was easier this way, existing together unknowingly, until the first light of dawn would creep over the horizon and he would leave just as silently as he came.

Tonight he sits in the small chair at the end of your bed, the joints groaning under his size—even in his current state, long and lean and light, his towering frame threatened to overtake the slim wooden chair that you seemed to use as a coat rack. It’s the first time he’s ever ventured this far into your room, normally choosing to stand in the doorway, able to quickly duck behind the wall when you made your usual trip to the bathroom at three in the morning. He’d stand there, back against the wall, trembling hands pressed against the cool, smooth paint, and wait. First, the toilet flush. Then the sound of shuffling feet. Then linens being rearranged, your sweet little groan as you adjust yourself under the covers, the creak of your metal bedframe as it settles back into place with you. Just a few more moments—one breath, two breaths, three breaths—and it was safe to observe you once more as you slipped right back into easy sleep.

He glances down at his watch, the face barely visible in the slivers of moonlight that peek through your curtains. It’s only two in the morning, still plenty of time left to watch you, plenty of breaths left to listen to and muffled little snores to enjoy and—

You’re awake.

You’re awake and Toshinori doesn’t understand why—it’s not time yet. But here you are, sitting up ramrod straight, your breathing rapid and labored, your eyes wide and barely blinking, gaze fixed on him and him alone. You’re awake and he’s unprepared.

“What—what do you want from me?” you stammer, voice still thick with sleep. Maybe you’ll think this was all a dream, just a bad dream—or a good one if he can just guide you to the right conclusion.

“Nothing! I want nothing! It’s just—” Toshinori pauses for a moment, gathering his racing thoughts, trying to corral them into something that would make sense to you now. He stands and looms over your bed, and you back up against the headboard as far as you possibly can, pulling your knees tightly to your chest while you slowly reach towards your nightstand, fingers blindly groping for your phone.

He quickly realizes what you’re doing and without thinking, lunges forward and grabs your wrist. You yelp—he’s hurt you, oh shit, he’s hurt you, hasn’t he? The noise you made was painful to hear, like getting stabbed in the ribcage. He’s too strong still, even like this, even without his muscled form. He’s too strong and he’s already hurt you and now you’ll hate him, just like he worried, just like he catastrophized over and over in his head.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he quickly blurts, dropping your hand. (Should he tend to you? Should he kiss your wrist where he injured you? It’s all happening too fast.) “It’s just—it’s just been so hard to love you from the shadows.”

You rub your wrist and hold it against your chest. “Love me?”

Is there a hint of softness in your voice? Is it pity? It doesn’t matter—it’s enough .

“Of course.” Toshinori drops to his knees at your bedside, places one large hand on either side of you, trapping you where you sit. You can’t run away, not yet, not now, not when he’s finally being pushed into action. You’re everything he needs and now you’re right here in his grasp. “Please. Just let me show you, and I promise I’ll be everything you could ever need. Just—just don’t reject me. Okay?”

You swallow thickly, nodding. “Okay. Sure. Whatever you want.”

As if you could ever have a choice.

[veeluvss]

Oh, JJ

TW: SELF-HARM and talks of suicide. JEMILY COMFORT BAU gate has been impacting JJ more than she'd like to admit.

Please note the following content includes topics of self harm and suicide intention, this may be triggering for some readers so reader discretion is advised. 

JJ didn’t know what to do. BAU gate was no longer BAU gate. It was inJure fear Jean. A website dedicated to her - doing things she couldn’t even imagine ever doing. She was sick. She couldn’t get the images or the videos- even the goddamn noises-  out of her mind. Every step she took she felt like she’d fall over from the gravity of the situation. She couldn’t cope. 

Sitting in the round table room, she made sure to keep her arms covered because the situation had become more than mental. She hated to admit it but as soon as she found out about Holly, well, she couldn’t get it off her mind. She had done it the night before and it was red and scarred now. She didn’t know why she did it really. She wanted to ease the pain but she was addicted to the distraction now. Not only that but she knew she had no one else to get her pain out too. No one else knew. No one would listen to her, she had no other outlet.

“JJ,” she heard from Emily, a voice so soft, so concerned. But she shook it off, no one had to be concerned about her, they were busy enough. She went on about the cameras in the parking garage but didn’t really hear herself. It all sounded distant and distorted. Although she was in the room, living, breathing, she felt mentally far away. 

“Em,” she called out quickly as Tara and Luke left the room. “You got a sec?” Emily gave her the soft eyes. Did she know? No, she can’t know. 

“Sure, what’s up?” She asked, in a tone that a mum would almost speak to a child. JJ sighed and went to speak, fiddling with her sleeves.

“Excuse me, Emily?” Tyler Green said. JJ’s stomach sank. “I need to speak to you and Rossi, it’s urgent.” “Not now,” Emily said, waving her arm to dismiss the intruder. “Gold star. Urgent.” JJ’s stomach sank further. She knew she had no way to tell her now, even if she didn’t know what to say at least she could try and cry for help. She hated what she had done to herself and she hated that she wanted to do it again. Emily stammered and turned to the blonde who stood there, hurting everywhere. “It can wait,” JJ stuttered. It could. She wasn’t important. What she had done wasn't important. Emily backed off and JJ headed to the bathroom. She needed to be sick. Her heart was pounding. She couldn’t swallow the ball in her throat, it had to come out. 

She dropped to her knees after slamming the cubicle door. She gripped the toilet bowl so hard her knuckles went white as she gagged over the toilet. Nothing came up. The images from the site fled through her mind like old film and she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would help. 

“Go away,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Get out of my head!” She screamed through gritted teeth. The sobs came in hard and fast. JJ couldn’t catch her breath. She put her sleeve between her mouth so she wasn’t too loud - she didn’t want to cause attention. 

After throwing up, JJ flushed the toilet and sat on the floor. Slowly, she peeled up her sleeves to reveal the red, scarred cuts on her wrist. A teardrop fell onto it and she sighed heavily. What had she done? Why wouldn’t it go away? She wondered if this was what her sister had felt? Was she letting Roslyn down or would Roslyn understand? 

Her phone dinged in her pocket with a message from Luke, Sydney and the kids had arrived. She sighed and got up from the floor. She pulled her sleeves far down, over her hands, touching her fingernails. She turned the lock and paused, she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror but she had to to make sure she looked presentable. She took a deep breath and pulled open the door and headed towards the sinks. Quickly, she glanced at her face to make sure no evidence of crying was there. There wasn’t. And then grabbed a cup of water in her hand to wash her mouth out. She popped in some chewing gum from her pocket and headed out of the bathroom like nothing was wrong. Like her whole life wasn’t falling apart. 

After speaking to Holly, it was all she wanted to do. Punish herself, get out of her own mind, distract herself. But she couldn’t. She had to be there for Sydney and the girls. “You can call us anytime,” JJ said to Sydney as she went to walk away. Sydney nodded and walked off. 

“How are they doing?” Emily asked, coming up behind JJ. 

“Erm,” JJ couldn't find the words to say. How could they be doing really? Their lives had fallen apart just like hers had. “I think they’re gonna be okay,” she said nonetheless. 

“How ‘bout you?” JJ asked. She wasn’t really bothered, she just wanted to keep the attention away from herself. Emily went on an angry rant about Brian and JJ nodded along, it all sounded so stressful for Emily.  She didn’t want to add to that stress. 

“Hey, what did you want to talk about?” Emily asked, her anger almost dissipating. “Oh,” JJ forgot she even asked. “Nothing. It’s not important,” she whispered. “Okay.” Emily said, she sent a small smile before walking off - leaving JJ standing in the bullpen alone. She wasn’t important. What she was going through wasn’t important. She had to do it now. 

She headed to the bathroom with her head down and hands over her sleeves. She pushed open the cubicle door and slid to the floor. She pulled out the small knife from her pocket and rolled up her sleeves. She didn’t want to think anymore. She didn’t want to breathe anymore. She wanted to be away, be out. Be gone. She didn’t matter. No one would care. They were all so busy, they wouldn’t even notice her gone. She was numb. 

So numb she didn’t hear the sound of the door opening, or the small call out for her name. She didn’t notice the cubicle door opening or Emily drop down beside her. 

“JJ,” Emily cried and grabbed her hands. “JJ,  stop,” she said. JJ’s hands were shaking and tears streamed down her cheeks, landing on the blood caking her arm. “JJ. JJ, stop. Baby, stop.” Emily said again. JJ snapped out of it then. Her head shot up and she looked at Emily through teary eyes. “JJ,” Emily cooed. She came in closer and shut the cubicle door so they wouldn’t be disturbed. It was a tight fit but Emily didn’t care. “What are you doing here?” JJ asked, barely above a whisper. “I realised how much you needed me. You said it’s not important but it is. JJ you’re so important,” Emily replied. She cupped the younger girl's face and JJ shut her eyes tight as she shook her head. “Not for this. Not- not not more important than Gold Star or Brian or the-” “JJ, you are the most important thing in this world,” Emily said, her own eyes filling with tears. “They used me, Em,” JJ sobbed, remembering the website. “I know Jay, I know.” “They used my face and they abused it. They made me-” she couldn’t finish her sentence. “My body isn’t mine anymore. I don’t know who I am.” Emily turned and took JJ into her arms, holding her tighter than she ever had before. JJ gripped her friend’s top for dear life, as if she might change her mind and leave her alone again. “I’m so sorry JJ,” Emily whispered and ran her fingers through JJ’s soft, blonde, long hair. “I’m here now.” 

“Not your fault,” JJ said, between her tears. She didn’t want someone else to feel guilty for her actions. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice before. I’m sorry you got this bad,” Emily sighed and rested her lips on JJ’s head, giving her a gentle kiss. “Not your fault,” JJ repeated. “I know but I’m sorry, my love,” Emily whispered and wrapped her arms tighter around JJ. She sighed seeing the blood on the floor and on JJ’s clothes. “Shall we get you cleaned up?” 

“I - I can do it,” JJ muttered as she sat up. She turned her arm so she didn’t have to look at her mess. “No, I’m not leaving you alone. Let me help,” Emily said softly and tucked some hair behind JJ’s ear. JJ didn’t say anything, only nodded. 

“Let me grab the first aid kit, I won’t be a minute,” Emily said quickly. She made sure she had JJ’s knife and headed out to find a first aid kit as quickly as she could. In the minute she was gone, JJ couldn’t hold her emotions back any longer. Emily was helping, she was being a nuisance. Was she mad? Annoyed she’d taken her away from the case? The emotions were too strong. She pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed into them, wrapping her body up tight to protect herself. Her arms were in agony from the cuts but she deserved it, that was all she kept telling herself. She deserved it. She definitely didn’t deserve Emily’s help. 

“Oh, Jay,” Emily whispered as she came back in and saw the sorry sight. “Sweetheart, you’re safe now,” she said as she sat back down on the floor. “Don’t deserve you,” JJ whispered. “I was bad. It’s bad.” “JJ, you’re not in trouble. You’d never be in trouble for this," Emily said, confused. “It’s bad though! I don’t deserve you,” Jennifer sobbed and shook her head over and over again. “Okay, come here,” Emily said. She wrapped herself around JJ’s crying body and almost cradled her as the young girl cried and cried. It took a good five minutes for JJ’s tears to subside. She leaned into Emily’s hold and hid her head in the crook of her neck. “I’ve got you, you’re safe with me,” Emily said and kissed JJ’s head again. “So safe with me.” 

Emily worked quickly on getting JJ’s cuts cleaned up. Whilst she left, she also grabbed JJ a new shirt, thankfully long sleeved. “I’m going to book you in a meeting with the psychiatrist but until then, I want you working alongside me okay?” “I’m not a child,” JJ huffed a little. She didn’t need to be babysat. “Tell me honestly, do you think you can keep yourself safe?” Emily asked, wrapping the last bandage around her arm. JJ didn’t respond, maybe she did need to be babysat. 

“Okay so you’re staying with me. And you talk to me,” Emily said. “I’m here for you and you are important.” “I am?” JJ asked, her eyes filling with tears again. “The most important, to me.” 

“I love you.” JJ whispered, tilting her head to the side. “I love you, JJ.” Emily replied and took JJ into her arms for another hug. 

[eden-evergreen]

Your boyfriend walks in on you while showering

eren jaeger (aot) + ohma tokita (ka).

synopsis -> mini drabbles, with a whole lotta fluff <3. established relationships; eren’s story set in a modern domestic setting

warning -> mention and description of constipation in ohma’s story, nothing vulgar — just a heads up to not dent your appetite if you’re consuming food. it wasn’t meant to be as unhinged as it was, but i think it would’ve happened between him and his s/o at least once T_T

Eren

It was when he heard the whoosh of the shower and assumed you were going to take a while in there… as you always do… and he needed to use the toilet.

Slightly premeditated? Perhaps… but he couldn’t afford to wait 20 minutes and you decided to take a shower after you washed the dishes together… just as you warned him. He also wanted to see you naked, because it felt like forever since he last all of you… its only been two days.

You remained focused on yourself as he snuck through the door caressing your skin and humming a sweet tune… he was incredibly silent against the background noise of the shower.

You turn around to reach for the soap when a foggy big figure appeared in you peripheral.

“AHHH”, you snatched the glass shower screen open and peaked your head out, “Eren, you almost gave me a heart attack?! Can you let me know when you’re gonna come in please??”

“Sorry love”, he says as he flushes the toilet and washes his hands, “you look good, mind if I get a better view?”. He licks his lips as he eyes you up and down. If his eyes where a representative of his stomach it would be growling right now, you looked delicious and he was starving.

“Hmph, fine… but lets keep it PG okay?”.

He rips his t-shirt over his head “Yeah, of course”, the swiftness of his response was not very convincing. But then again, its hard to keep it PG when he looks as good as he does.

Ohma

Ohma is has a colossal appetite. Appropriately so, it takes a lot to maintain his broad physique and fuel his extreme training programme. As he’s off training the majority of the day, you’d sometimes make his dinner after work. He’d rather you not do it, especially since he comes back so late causing you to go bed much later than you should’ve. Plus its a lot to make at once… a family pot’s worth of food will only last about a 2 dinners with him.

Tonight you decided it was worth it as it was a weekend so you could afford the later night’s sleep — and hopefully some extra time with him. You made a hearty portion of mixed meat skewers — his favourite.

Ohma was very grateful for the meal, kissing your forehead before digging into the feast. You save some aside for yourself, eating alongside him in a comfortable silence. He continued to eat his meal as you finished yours and made your way into the shower. You assume Ohma’s going to join you when he’s done so you could wash his back.

Instead he barges into the toilet damn near breaking the door! He sits on the toilet seat letting a huge one rip he groans soon after.

“OH COME ON OHMA!!!”, you whaled, quickly grabbing your towel and escorting yourself out the bathroom.

“Too… much… protein —”, he groans continuing to defecate with the door open.

That poor man. You love Ohma, you really do… but his proteins sh*ts are none your business. Its given with how much of it he consumes on a daily basis, you’ve had a couple of blockages of your toilet before but he was careful enough to make sure you weren’t exposed to it. Until now… he was clearly suffering.

You swung the door shut behind him as he buried his head in his lap, groaning at the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. You put on some slippers before going downstairs, checking if he’s washed his dish(es). You come to find all the meat… two days worth is g o n e.

After an hour he seemed to have stabilised. He took a shower before joining you on the sofa with his head in your lap, cheek smooshed against your pillowy thighs.

You caressed his black locks brushing them out of his eyes, “you shouldn’t have eaten the 3 trays of meat Ohma”.

“I know, but it tasted so good…. And your cooking is much better than mine”. He winced in pain, closing his eyes in an attempt to mask the pain, “your ass looked sexy in the shower by the way”. He smirked before wincing in pain once more burying his face in to your lap. You scoffed at his comment:

‘Men are such simple beings’.

[swiftieblyth]

Blyth Family: A little Something

warnings- fluff, pregnancy, morning sickness

You were laying bed with a massive headache and the worst cramp in your abdomen. You were hoping it just meant that you started your period, but you didn’t want to get up and check. Tom was taking Lady on a walk to let you get some rest. You’ve been having this same problem for a few mornings now but never this bad.

All of a sudden you felt your stomach flip and you rushed to the bathroom. You opened the toilet and started throwing up.

You stopped and leaned against the wall as you heard the door open.

“Honey, we’re home!” Tom called. You were about to respond when you started throwing up again. “Love?” Tom called, walking into your room. He heard you throwing up and came running to your side. “Darling!” He asked, crouching down next to you, rubbing your back.

You stopped throwing up and flushed the toilet. Tom carefully pulled you back to lean on him. You sighed as you press your back against your chest.

“What’s wrong my love? Are you sick? Should I call the doctor?”

“I don’t know,” you let out, tears coming to your face.

“What all doesn’t feel good?” He asked, rubbing your stomach.

“My stomach, head, everything hurts. And my boobs, gosh my boobs hurt, Tommy! But I don’t know why I still haven’t started my period.”

“Darling, when was the last time you had your period?”

“Before our anniversary.” You let out. The realization hit you and you looked up at him and gasped. “Tommy, do you think?”

“I think so, my love,” he smiled, baby blues shining brighter than ever.

“I love you so much!” You cried, hugging him. Just then Lady came running in and climbed up on Tom’s lap. “Lady,” you smiled, scooping her up. “You might be an older sister pretty soon!”

“I think we should make you an appointment my love.”

💜💜💜

You had your appointment and sure enough, you were pregnant! Little Baby Blyth is five weeks in the making!

Tom was driving you home as you closed your eyes, trying not to throw up.

“You okay, love?” He asked, grabbing your hand.

“Besides trying not to throw up I’m great! We’re gonna have a little kid in about 35 weeks!”

“I know my love! I can’t wait.”

“When do you think we should start telling people? I’ve already gained some wait, and with the premier coming up, I don’t think we’ll be able to hid it for long.”

“Do you think we should start telling loved ones now?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I kinda want to go to bed once we get home.”

“That’s perfectly fine my love. Do you want me and Lady to join you?”

“Would you?” You gasped, tears coming to your eyes.

“Of course my love! We can all cuddle together, the four of us.”

“All four,” You smiled, putting a hand to your stomach, looking at Tom with tears in your eyes.

💜💜💜

“Tommy?” You mumbled laying in bed half asleep.

“What is it my love?” Tom asked, spooning you, hands rubbing your flat stomach, as Lady cuddled into your chest.

“When do you think we should make a public announcement? It’s not something we can really hide. At least not with the tour going on.”

“Are you sure you can still do the tour?”

“The doctor said I could until about 20 weeks.”

“But do you want to?”

“I want to at least do some.” You explain. “I don’t know how far we’ll get, but I want to try. But Tommy…”

“What is it my love?”

“Once I’m done with the tour, I’m going to be taking a brake until some point after our baby comes.”

“I think that’s perfectly fine my love. I’ll do my best to make sure I don’t have to travel.”

💜💜💜

You and Tom had been spending the day (after your morning sickness) calling your loved ones and telling them the amazing news. All you had left was Rachel and Josh, and Taylor and Travis.

“How should we go about it?” You asked, fear lacing your voice as you looked at Tom.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to be scared,” Tom explained, rubbing your arms. “They’re going to be so excited, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded as a tear escaped.

“I’m going to be right here with you my love,” he cooed, wiping the tear away. “Just call them when you’re ready, we don’t have to rush.”

“I’m ready.” You breathed, calling Rachel.

“Hello?” Rachel asked, on the other end of the phone.

“Hey! You smiled! Is now a bad time?”

“No, Josh, Lenny, and I are just watching some tv.”

“Okay, cool.” You looked up at Tom fear in your eyes, as he mouthed that it will be okay. “Hey, me and Tom want to talk to you two, can we FaceTime?”

“Sure, just a sec.” Rachel said as she FaceTimed you.

“Hey, Y/N/N, hey Tom!” Josh smiled.

“Hey,” you and Tom smiled.

“What did you two want to talk about?” Rachel asked.

“While, we have something we need to tell you.” Tom started.

“And we wanted to see your faces.” You cut in. I’m gonna send you a picture.”

“Did you get it?” You asked, grabbing Tom’s hand.

“Yeah, we’re gonna look at it.”

You watched as their faces became confused as they opened the message, then how they softened and their mouths fell open.

“What?” Josh let out.

“Are you pregnant?” Rachel asked, tears coming to her eyes.

“Yes!” You smiled as you started to tear up.

“Oh my gosh!” Rachel screamed. “You’re gonna have a baby! I’m gonna be an aunt!”

“We’re gonna have a baby!” You yelled.

“How far along are you?” Josh asked.

“Five weeks,” Tom proudly answered. “Size of peppercorn.”

“You two are going to be amazing parents!” Rachel smiled. Gosh, I can’t wait to see you!”

“I can’t either!” You smiled. “Both of you!”

“Who else knows?” Josh asked.

“We’re keeping it inside family and close friends for now.” Tom explained, hugging your waist, rubbing your stomach (you think it’s his favorite thing to do right now) “However we’re probably going to say something at the red carpet.”

“We only have to tell Taylor and Travis now, and we’ll do that when we’re done.” You cut in.

“This is amazing! You’re going to be parents!”

“And we’re hoping you two would be the god parents,” you let out.

“What?” Rachel yelled. “Us?”

“Of course,” Tom smiled. “You two are our best friends.”

“There’s no one I would trust more with my baby.”

“Thank you guys.” Josh smiled. “We will gladly be the god parents.”

💜💜💜

“You ready to call Trav, and Taylor?” Tom asked, once you got off the phone with Rachel and Josh.

“Yeah.” You breathed, calling Taylor.

“Hey, honey!”

“Hi Tay!” You smiled. Hey, are you by any chance with Trav right now?”

“Yeah, why? Do you need me to go to another room so we can talk?”

“No! This is great! Can we face time? Tom and I want to tell you guys something.”

You entered the face time and saw both of them.

“Hey, Trav!” You smiled.

“Hey baby girl. Hey Tom.”

“Hey, Trav.” Tom smiled.

“Is everything okay?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “everything is great. I’m going to send you a picture.”

“OH MY GOSH!” Taylor yelled, gasping and covering her mouth.

“No way,” Travis smiled.

“This isn’t a choke is it?”

“It’s not,” you shook your head.

“You’re actually pregnant?” Taylor asked.

“I am!”

“Five weeks in,” Tom smiled.

“You guys, this is amazing. My little girl is gonna be a mom!”

[bejeweledblondie]

A Royal Baby

Captain John Price x F! Royalty Reader

Summary: the final part in my royalty series, I thought finishing it out with a baby would be best!

Warnings: childbirth, mentions of sex, nudity, throwing up & anxiety

Y/N had always loved waking up like this, wrapped in John’s arms. Inhaling his masculine scent of cigars & bourbon. She smiled to herself & ran her delicate fingers along his arm. They had been married for three months now & after a romantic honeymoon in the south of France they had returned to London. With his morning wood poking her the back she was reminded of the many times they consummated their marriage. She’ll never forget the embarrassment of a her security hearing them. Their welsh corgi a gift from Y/N’s grandmother jumped up onto the bed & started to lick her face.

She giggled & wiggled herself out of John’s grasp.

“Alright, alright I’m up.” She replied. John was still tuckered out from the flight home. She admired his chest leading down to his happy trail. “How did I get so lucky?” She whispered to herself. When she went to go swing her legs over to the side of the best to put her slippers on a wave of nausea washed over her. Hastily putting her beloved pet on the bed & ditching the slippers she sprinting to the toilet. Holding her hair back & lifting up the lid she emptied the contents from her stomach. Last night’s dinner was floating in the water in front of her. All the commotion must’ve woken John up as she felt his hand soothingly rubbing her back. Finally once she was done, she flushed the toilet & rest back up against John.

“Were you feeling this ill when we left Paris yesterday?” He asked still rubbing her back.

“I don’t think so, I don’t know what came over me I hate throwing up.” Y/N replied. “Let me brush my teeth at least so I can get this horrific taste out of my mouth. Then we will phone for the doctor to come take a look.” While she was brushing the taste of bile out of her mouth John was already one step ahead calling for the physician.

“He’ll be here in one hour love,” John said as he walked into the bathroom. “Why don’t you lie down for the remainder of time & I’ll have of the maids get you some tea.”

Soon enough within the hour there Y/N sat with an empty tea cup on her beside table & the Royal physician sitting beside her.

“Now you said you didn’t feel like this when you got home last night, right?” The Doctor asked.

“No I felt perfectly fine it was just this morning it came out of nowhere.” Y/N replied. John sat beside her holding her hand.

“Now I do have to ask,” the Doctor started. “You two have been sexually active I’m assuming?” A blush crept up on Y/N’s cheeks at the question.

“Yes,” John replied beating her to the punch. He knew how coy she was about their intimate life.

“Have you tried a pregnancy test?” She asked as she started to dig through her bag. Once she pulled one out & she handed it to Y/N. “Morning nausea is an early sign of pregnancy, & you had also mentioned previously your monthly is late. So it’s definitely possible. Go take the test & if it is negative give me a call. I have a great referral for the wonder OB if it’s positive.”

“Thank you doctor,” John replied. “Let me have one of the staff escort you out.” John lead the doctor to the door & one of the butler’s already stood there ready to escort her. Once he returned Y/N was already out of bed & urinating onto the stick. She laid out a piece of toilet paper & laid the stick on it. Who knew two minutes could by so slowly. Y/N was pacing the floor biting onto her nails trinternally processing what was happening.

“Love you’ll started a draft if you keep doing that.” John said & he walked over to comfort her. He outstretched his arms & pulled her in for a deep hug. “Whatever happens, remember I still love you remember that.” The timer had gone off signifying that the test was done. They both walked into the bathroom & Y/N took a deep breath before picking it up. She flipped the test over to see word “positive.”

Her whole body went numb as she read the word over & over again.

“It’s positive, John.” She replied & looked at him. “We’re going to have a baby.” He looked at her with wide eyes & pulled her in for a deep kiss. Once he let go he placed both of his hands on her head & smiled at her.

“I’m going to be a dad!” He cheered. “I cannot wait to tell the boys!” It had been a few months since he had seen his former team. Being married to a member of the British Royal Family meant he had to take more of a backseat role in the military. She knew he was desperately missing his friends & this would be a great opportunity for them to be reunited. She also knew how public her pregnancy would be & how much she’d have to do to ensure stress was a factor in creating problems for her health. Her hand rubbed small circles on her abdomen as she looked down. She was taking in John’s moment of jumping around out of excitement.

“Your daddy’s a little crazy, but you’ll get used to him.” Y/N whispered to her lower abdomen.

9 months later

Pregnancy was taking a toll on Y/N. The first couple of months had been a breeze she had been sporting a little beach ball bump for the first eight months. They knew they were going to be having a little boy which made John even more elated than he was because they’d get to do father/son activities. Now she was feeling like a whale, & her stomach was incredibly heavy. Her doctor had requested she stay out of public appearances & stay in bed. John had taken a leave of absence from his position with the military due to his wife’s state. He couldn’t bear to see her in this much pain.

The baby was now overdue & Y/N was pacing with her nurse in the comfort of their master bedroom to help see if it would induce labor. John sat in a chair with their beloved Corgi draped across his lap.

“Oh how I wish I could evict you,” She grumbled at her belly. “I know it’s probably warm & you get food whenever but you’ll have to stop freed loading at some point.”

“Love, why don’t you have some of the spicy Mexican food that the chef made for you? It might help with speeding this up.” He said. She waddled over to him with the nurse still holding her side. She took the plate from him & started to eat.

“I blame you for this,” Y/N said and pointed her fork at him. “You just had to be all sexy & down to-“ She stopped mid sentence. Both the nurse & John looked at her with worried looks.

“Darling what’s wrong?” He asked in a worried tone. He looked down at her pajamas pants & they were soaked. He took the plate of food out of her hands and put it on the table besides them. Looking down at the floor & he noticed a big puddle around her feet.

“I think my water broke.” She replied. A sharp pain in her abdomen caused her scream out a bunch of curses.

“We need to get to the hospital.” The nurse said. “I’ll phone the doctor, your highness get the baby bag & we will get her to St. Mary’s.” The nurse ran into the other room & John took hold of Y/N’s hand.

“How are you feeling love?” He asked. With tired eyes she glared at him.

“Wet.” She replied. “I need to change.” She waddled off with John quickly trailing behind her.

“Love,” John started as he watched her walk into her closet. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Ah ha I found it!” She cheered & stripped out of her now wet pajamas into a nightgown. “Much better.”

“Okay that’s great you look beautiful now let’s go before you have our son in our closet.” He said & gently guided her to the doorway. Baby bag in hand, they all quickly made their way down to were the ambulance was waiting for them.

Once at the hospital, they were put in a private wing & Y/N was hooked up to a bunch of monitors. Even with the epidural, labor was still a very intense process. It killed John to see her like this, seeing her in any pain caused him emotional distress. He never wanted to see her hurt like this. Soon she was fully dilated & ready to push.

“Alright your highnesses, are you ready to meet your son?” The doctor said as he walked in. He sat down right in front of her & put gloves on. Two nurses held her feet & legs in the air while John held her right hand. “When I say push, push.” The doctor instructed. “Take deep breaths in between. I can see the babies head. Okay. Push.” The doctor instructed.

With a bone crushing grip on John’s hand Y/N let out a strangled scream & pushed. Once she couldn’t push anymore she relaxed & took a deep breath. A nurse took a wet towel & brushed over her forehead. “Okay Push!” The doctor yelled again. The epidural had started to wear off & Y/N started to scream bloody murder as soon as the ring of fire started to happened.

“You’re doing great my love keep pushing.” John said & kissed her forehead.

“That’s great your highness, he’s so close keep pushing!” The doctor said & soon enough he caught the screaming infant in his hands. The wail of her son filled the room & Y/N started to cry. A nurse placed her son on her chest as they started to wipe off of the some of fluid from his head.

“Oh John,” Y/N said look at him. “He’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” John said as he started to cry. “Thank you for gifting me the best thing in my life.” He placed a kiss on her forehead, & the nurse took the infant to clean him up.

After a few hours once Y/N was all stitched up & well rested she was holding her newborn son. He was latched to her breast & John was just in awe at the life that was created. His son was so little & he was just so beautiful. They had decided on a family name for him, James, named after Y/N’s paternal grandfather. It took a few days, but soon Y/N allowed for visitors to come in before they revealed the infant to the world. A slew of family & friends came to see the new edition.

Then the Task Force came by. Y/N was all dolled up in a dress for the reveal later on in the day. Simon, maskless & in casual clothing was holding the newest edition to the Price household. They came with gifts, including a camouflage onesie with a custom name tape on it, a baby blanket, & many other items. John & Y/N watched as the infant was cooing at Simon. His little body was able to fit in the crook of his arm.

“Oi you’ve had your turn let me hold the little lad.” Soap said. Simon passed the infant off to the Scotsman. “I want one.” As soon as the infant was placed into his arms.

“You can’t just go to the store & buy one MacTavish.” Gaz said. “You can barely take care of a goldfish.” James started to wiggle around in Soap’s arms & giggling at the silly faces he was making while mocking Gaz. A knock at the door turned everyone’s attention to the front of the room. One of the Royal advisors was standing there alerting them that in fifteen minutes they were due in the front for a photo op with the press. Soap reluctantly, handed the infant back to Y/N. They said their goodbyes to the team, & started to gather themselves.

“Are you ready to meet the world little one?” John asked as they exited the delivery room. “Come on love it’s time for the world to meet our son.” Side by side they walked out of the doors of St. Mary’s & introduced their first born son to the world.

[cowgurrrl]

I was wondering for your Look for the Light series if you could do a drabble about them figuring out she is pregnant and everyone's reactions?

Oooooo I love this!!

Evergreen

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Author’s note: now feels like a good time to mention that Ellie is a little bit older in this series (15-16 years old!!) also I’ve been trying to finish this all day so I’m throwing this and running

Summary: “Nearly everything I know about love, I’ve learnt in my long-term friendships with women.” - Dolly Alderton, Everything I Know About Love aka you find out you’re pregnant [1.5k]

Warnings: pregnancy talks, grief, references to canonical violence, talks of infertility, Ellie being confused, fluff!!

"Are you pregnant?" Maria asks the second you're close enough. You signed up to patrol with her this morning but didn't know she would have a secret sixth sense for detecting if you're pregnant. It's been three months since you and Joel decided to start trying to have a baby, and so far, you haven't noticed any intense early pregnancy symptoms, which is fine. You figured it would take a while to get pregnant, and you and Joel decided to keep it a secret until you knew for a fact that you were pregnant. 

"What? No." You say, turning from her to adjust the reigns on your horse, Goldie. Maria crosses her arms over her chest and stares at your profile.

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to believe me. I'm not pregnant."

"Then, look at me when you say it." She challenges, and you press your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head. How the fuck does she know you so well? You step closer to her and look around to ensure nobody's nearby.

"I'm not pregnant," you repeat, but her gaze doesn't falter. You sigh. "Joel and I are trying, but we're keeping it a secret. There's no reason to get anybody's hopes up, so don't tell anyone, okay?"

"How long ago did you decide this?"

"A couple of months ago."

"And you're sure you're not pregnant?" She asks, and you shrug.

"I mean, I don't feel any different, but I'm a few days late," you say, and she practically beams as the words leave your mouth. "But that doesn't mean anything. When I got pregnant with Jane, I had my period the same month I took the test. Besides, it's not like pregnancy tests are just gonna fall from the sky." You try to bring her back down to earth, but she's already reaching into her bag to hand you a box of pregnancy tests. You look between her and the tests, struggling to put the pieces together.

"You've been spacey, and your boobs got huge last week, so I came to my own conclusion," she says. "I also have great mother's intuition."

"Should I be concerned that you took so much interest in the size of my boobs?"

"I mean, it was kinda hard to miss." She says, and you laugh, turning the box of tests over in your hands to check the expiration date. They're relatively new and don't expire for another year. There's also a good amount in there, at least five or six. 

"Where did you even find this?" You ask as you tuck the box into your backpack. 

"FEDRA still makes them. They're the shitty ninety-nine cents ones designed in 2003, but it's better than nothing." She explains. You nod and move to pull yourself onto Goldie's saddle when she looks at you expectantly. There's definitely something to be said about the Miller men's taste in stubborn women. 

"I promise to take one tonight if you promise to stop talking about my boobs while we're on patrol." 

"Done."

"So, she just threw a box of pregnancy tests at you?" Joel asks as he leans against the sink. 

"Pretty much," you say as you stand and flush the toilet. The beauty of marriage is that you guys can still have conversations while actively taking three pregnancy tests. You push him out of the way and set them face-down on the counter as you wash your hands. He doesn't go far, lingering at your left. "You really didn't say anything to Tommy?"

"I swear."

"Maria must be a fucking witch then," you mumble as you dry your hands and look up at him. There's a glint in the deep brown of his irises, and you smirk. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that. That look is how we got here in the first place."

"'M excited." He says as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and kisses your jaw. You cover his hands with yours and indulge him as he sways you back and forth to a song neither of you can hear.

"We don't even know anything for sure. I don't even think I'm actually pregnant."

"Then, why did you take three?"

"I took three when I found out I was pregnant with Jane. It seemed like a good number," you say, and he hums into your neck, unconvinced. The worry scratching at the corners of your brain takes center stage, and you feel like you could puke. You take a deep breath and squeeze his wrist. "I don't want to get our hopes up for something that might not happen."

"What d'you mean?" He asks, pulling away from you enough to look at you. 

"What if I can't get pregnant ever again? I've been stabbed, beaten, shot at, starved, left for dead, all of it. And that was fine as long as I survived because I never thought I'd live long enough to want another baby. But now we're here, and I'm scared," you word vomit. Joel doesn't hesitate to hug you tightly, rubbing your back and wrapping you in his warmth. A few tears fall from your eyes and stain his shirt, and you can't stop them. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Baby, you could never disappoint me, okay? I love you. Hey," he gently holds your face in his big hands and looks at you when he hears you sniffle. "I love you. Nothin' in the world could change that. Nothin' else matters to me except for you and Ellie, and I'm so happy with the both of you. If it's us three forever, that's more than enough. If we do have a baby, that's fine, too. But nothin' about you will ever disappoint me, okay?" He asks, and you nod. He wipes your tears away with his thumbs and kisses your forehead. You still feel uncertain and shaky, but his presence soothes something profound in you.

"I think the tests should be ready." You find your voice, glancing at the three tests staring at you. You turn in his arms and try to find the courage to grab a test off the sink.

"No matter what, we're gonna be okay. We'll always be okay." He says, kissing the spot under your ear, and you nod. You take a deep breath and quickly flip the test over before you can change your mind. 

"Oh, shit," you breathe as soon as you spot the dark, unmistakable lines. Joel reaches around you and grabs another one, and another pair of dark lines greet you. You pick the third and final one up and see the positive markings. Three yeses and six identical lines fill you with hope, starkly different than your gut reaction to your three positive tests at sixteen. You turn to look at Joel and find him staring at the test with tears falling down his cheeks. "Oh, baby," you murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him. "Are these happy tears?" You ask, and he laughs.

"The happiest," he says, and you smile. He buries his head in your neck, and you cry together. At their core, they're happy tears for the new baby you'll be having together, but you know he's remembering when he found out about Sarah the same way you're thinking about Jane. It's bittersweet. You think it always will be. You imagine a huge electric sign pointing to your grief as if it were a nightclub, announcing that love was once here. Then, in the smallest font possible, there is a note stating that love still is. "We're gonna have a baby."

"We're gonna have a baby." You repeat as he kisses you. You would stay there forever, wrapped up in him, but the sound of the front door opening and closing forces you to pull away. 

"Hello? Is anyone home?" Ellie calls from downstairs, and your eyes widen at Joel. 

"In here!" You yell back. You quickly hide the tests behind your back and do your best to look natural as you stand with Joel in the bathroom with tears staining your faces. You don't hide it very well. Ellie can see that much as she steps into the threshold of your bathroom with the Ellie Stink Face on.

"Why are we all hanging out in here?" She asks, and you can't even answer her. You just hand her the pregnancy test and watch as her mind works. You and Joel are buzzing as you wait for her reaction, hoping for something big and sweet, but she shrugs. "I don't get it." She says, and Joel laughs. Sometimes it's easy to forget that Ellie was born after the world fell apart.

"So, I just took this test to see if I'm pregnant. Two lines mean yes." You explain, and she finally lights up, her eyes bouncing between you and Joel.

"You're gonna have a baby?" She asks, and you nod. "Oh, my fucking God!" She yells as she wraps you in a big hug, jumping up and down with you in her arms.

"Hey, be gentle. There's precious cargo in there." Joel teases, but Ellie barely reacts to his words. Instead, she hugs him, still jumping up and down. There's nothing purer in the world than her squeals of joy and trying to answer her million questions. You like to think that Jane and Sarah are somewhere nearby, maybe in the next room you can't see quite yet, listening and getting just as excited as Ellie. 

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taglist: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts​

[ohnococo]

Satoru Gojo SFW Alphabet

(under the cut for length)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Gojo is extremely affectionate. He craves affection, in fact. He’ll outright pout if he hasn’t been hugged when you see him. He’s absolutely that Kirby meme that’s like “I didn’t get no mfin forehead kiss 😡”

He just wants to hold your hand constantly, be draped off of you. He’s like this even as friends, so everyone around you will think nothing of it until they see him giving you a kiss - something he doesn’t mind doing in front of others.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Gojo is that friend that shows his love by hanging all over you and also by purposefully bugging you. He just loves a little playful banter and even if he didn’t he has zero boundaries when it comes to friendship.

He’s that friend who will come to your house and treat it like his own. He’s the friend that will be talking to you on the phone and then 10 mins into the conversation he’s like “hold on lemme flush” like excuse me???

It’s just that if you’ve gotten to the point of being his very best friend he’s got zero self-consciousness around you. You two are basically a living breathing unit now.

As for how that friendship starts… you can’t know how close you’ll become to Gojo. People certainly know when he doesn’t like them, but outside of that he’s so casual with everyone. So he’s also casual with you. Then you get to know each other, and he’s even more casual. Next thing you know he’s talking to someone and refers to you as his best friend. A good tell is if he lets you see him being serious, upset even. When he feels safe enough with you to let you see his less-than-pleasant emotions you know you two are close.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s a big cuddler. King of physical touch. If he lets himself get close enough he’ll actually complain about not being able to fall asleep when you two have to be apart. His cuddling is essentially acting like some kind of shawl draped across you, leaning into you, lying across your lap, acting like you’re some kind of living pillow. God help you in the summer, he’ll complain about being sweaty while he’s choosing to be stuck to you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

In canon? He doesn’t. His legacy is his students, his relationships are platonic, where there’s at least a small layer of separation. As for actually getting married or starting a family, he doesn’t want to actively bring someone into his world like that, and he doesn’t want to risk losing them. Even if they’re strong, he knows the expectations placed on him alone, and having someone he cares for like that is a risk that doesn’t line up with who he knows he has to be.

In a no curse AU though, absolutely. He loves intimacy, and closeness, and feeling like he has a unit. Settling down is a goal for him.

As for cooking and cleaning, in every universe this man is hopeless. A simple recipe works for him, but two burners on at once? Or a recipe where he needs to be occasionally stirring something between prepping other things? Nah stuff is getting forgotten, or burned, and the kitchen is going to be a mess afterwards. He just keeps using spoons then throwing them in the sink before he’s done. Stop it Gojo, stop using so many goddamn spoons now you have to wash one and the onions are burning.

Cleaning, he is perfectly capable of doing, but he hasn’t had to - going straight from having others to do it for him because it’s not something this chosen one was meant to worry about, to being able to pay people to handle it for him. I don’t blame him, no one wants to scrub a toilet, but he’s not what I’d call “domestic” and can tend to act like someone who’s never had to clean up after himself.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I’m so sorry y’all… this man would break up with you over a text… it’s not a short text, at least. It’s a long one he’s typed and typed and retyped 100 times, and might have had to take a break and go for a walk in between. But it’s a text nonetheless. It’s just that if he’s decided to break things off, he’s not in a place to be able to put his big boy panties on and deal with the messy emotions that might come up in a face to face breakup.

Besides, he doesn’t want to make it worse, and the first words that come to mind to whatever you say might not come across how he wants them to, he wants to be able to think and say the right things.

It feels cold, but that’s how he is on the outside when he’s ending things because he thinks he has to force himself to be.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I’ll go non curse au with this answer, for reasons stated above, but Gojo does know he wants commitment long term. He’s a weird one though, in that when he falls he’s absolutely head over heels in love. He wants to spend all of his time with you, drag you along on all of his whims, and he will even jokingly call you his husband/wife at a certain point and talk about being together long term while cuddling, but…

This man is gonna take fucking AGES to propose. He’ll take ages to even ask to move in together. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just that you guys are at each other’s houses so often that it’s like half of your stuff is split between the two places. And he loves you and thinks of you in terms of that long term commitment already, so the ring or the key just don’t come up in his mind.

He’s the type you have to drop hints to, maybe even outright say “my lease is up in spring, let’s move in together.”

It’s an enthusiastic yes from him. And when the proposal happens he’s the one grabbing your hand to show your ring to strangers and calling you his fiancée with a sparkly lilt in his voice, but damn Gojo just focus.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He can be gentle physically, tracing his fingers over your skin, rubbing his thumb against your hand while you’re holding hands. Sometimes when he’s cuddled up with his head resting in the crook of your neck he’ll blink against your skin, tickling you with his long lashes in a little butterfly kiss. But as gentle as he can be, he can also be one to roughhouse with you a bit (though always in a restrained way that doesn’t intend to hurt).

Hugging you tight and swinging you from side to side, tugging you along by your hand when he’s excited to show you something, tickling you til you’re squealing, he might even play wrestle a bit when he’s kissing you. The man contains multitudes.

Emotionally… he can be a bit clumsy. Sometimes he just doesn’t consider how his words or tone will come across before he’s speaking.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Gojo loves hugging. It’s like it clears his head, so he gives you long firm hugs often. He wraps his arms around you, putting his weight on your shoulders as you wrap your arms around his waist, and presses his face to the top of your head. He’ll rock you both side to side in the hug, and you have no choice but to go along with his movements because he’s got you so tightly pressed together. Always finishes the hugs with a big happy sigh.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

In canon, it’s hard to get out of him outright. It’s scary to give himself away just that much, knowing he can’t always protect everyone. Knowing you could very well go and get yourself hurt. You’ll know in other ways though.

In a no curse au, Gojo loves with no restraint. He’s saying it fast, too fast in some relationships. Almost casually. He feels so, so much, and doesn’t think twice before he speaks sometimes.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Gojo doesn’t get jealous. He’s too self-assured for that. And he doesn’t have any insecurities about you or your commitment, otherwise he wouldn’t be with you.

The closest to jealousy he gets is when he feels like he hasn’t had enough time with you. It’s not that he thinks anything is going on with you and whichever friends you’ve been spending time with, it’s just that he doesn’t understand why he can’t come along too.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Gojo’s kisses are slow and sweet - teasing even. His soft lips are gentle against yours, so light sometimes it tickles, and show any sign of enjoyment or even desperation, and he’s smiling into your kiss. He’s not using tongue at first, and if you try to initiate too soon he’ll pull back, brushing your noses together. When he finally does kiss you properly it’s gently, restrained, a crooked finger tilting your chin up for him, a thumb on your chin keeping your mouth softly open so he can beckon you to make a little noise for him. Once you’re making out the intensity ramps up considerably, then Gojo’s kisses are deep and wet and needy.

As for kisses elsewhere, Gojo loves a forehead kiss. Sometimes he’ll just bend his head down and point to his forehead, then once he gets that kiss he looks SO pleased with himself about it. As if you’d deny him… as if his pouty self would let you deny him! He loves giving those forehead kisses in return, or when you’re holding hands he’ll often bring your hand to his mouth to kiss.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Gojo is great with children. He’s rambunctious, matches their energy, and is great at saying silly things with a straight face that make them laugh. He’s one of those people that babies always smile and wave to, and comes across as a safe adult to children.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Getting out of bed is the first struggle for mornings with Gojo. A chronic “5 more minutes” type. Even if you get out of bed easily in the mornings, you won’t with him. He’s wrapping an arm and a leg around you and groggily pouting if you try to end your sleepy cuddle session. He just loves the closeness while everything is so quiet and still in the mornings.

His stomach beckons him out of bed eventually, though, and he’ll have the audacity to insist you get ready and go to a cafe for pastries even though you’re both starving after a solid hour and a half of cuddling in bed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Gojo is one of those people that gets a second wind at night. He can tend to stay up late because of it. If you don’t mind, he’ll love to watch movies or play games with you until late into the night, head resting on your lap the whole time. Once you’re in bed is when the “would you love me if I was a worm” questions start though.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Gojo is one of those people that reveal things without revealing things. He’ll tell you something so earnest, embarrassing even, that would be a sign of closeness or vulnerability from other people - but for him it’s just his usual oversharing. The real things that matter to him he keeps close to his chest and reveal slowly and after a good while.

When he eventually says them he does so with that same casual tone he’s used to tell you about the time he laughed so hard he peed himself at the tender age of 23, but by then you’ll understand it means a lot that he’s being open about things he usually wouldn’t.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Gojo can almost be impossibly hard to anger, so if you’re the type to want an argument over something you’re going to be hard pressed to get it. He’s more the type to awkwardly laugh at the wrong time, which would just make someone already mad at him even more angry.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He doesn’t really let on how much he remembers, but he does. He’ll get you your exact order from a coffee shop, or buy you something you’d mentioned craving to someone else when he happened to be in the room, then if you ask how he knew he’ll just smile and say “lucky guess.”

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Gojo’s favourite moment is the first time you’d comforted him. He’ll never ask for that from anyone, and most of the time people assume he doesn’t need that assurance and comfort because he always seems so happy and unbothered by things that would worry most. But you notice, even if he’s acting perfectly normal, and offer to lend him an ear - even asking if he just wanted a hug. He does, and even if it was one of a hundred random kind gestures for you, it meant the world to him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s the type to protect from afar. He lets you handle things first, because he’s the type to have faith in you, but the minute you need help he’s there. Basically he’s always back up, but will never have you looking helpless.

He doesn’t want protection, to the point where it can feel like out of nowhere when he stops you from intervening or defending him. He just prefers to handle his own matters himself.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

This man makes AN EFFORT for special days. If grand gestures aren’t your thing, it might be a problem, but he’s the type to book the nicest restaurant in town, buy you loads of roses, commemorate anniversaries with pretty jewellery (matching, in a lot of cases).

Day to day though, he’s more lowkey. His love is shown in his physical affection, but the way he splashes out on birthdays, anniversaries, and Valentine’s Day more than accommodates that.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He’s got a few bad habits for sure, and they’ll take a lot of reminding (like years of it) to get him out of it. Leaving the toilet seat up, squeezing toothpaste from the middle, stealing bites of food off your plate, barging in when you’re on the toilet. Things that don’t bother some people, but can be annoying to others.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

His appearance means a lot to him, and he’s not ashamed of that fact. He’s always well groomed, and when out of school attire he wears expensive clothes that are carefully curated to his tastes. He takes care of himself: good skincare regimen, chooses outfits carefully, he even uses purple shampoo and hair treatments to keep his naturally white hair looking bright and soft.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely. If he’s not with you he’s thinking about you and wishing he was with you. If he has plans he wants you there, because everything will always be better if you’re there too.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

If you’re up to it, Gojo loves to be one of those couples with matching sets of things. Matching rings, him wearing a bracelet that’s from a set with your necklace, and if you’re down to be one of those especially obnoxious couples full on matching outfits when you go on dates. Not necessarily the same outfit, but coordinating colours or patterns. He has no qualms about being that couple that makes everyone cringe.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He has a few things he doesn’t love, and it’s honestly hard to pinpoint what set of things make someone a fit for him because it’s not obvious to even him.

He definitely isn’t a fan of his partner smoking cigarettes, refusing him affection or giving him the silent treatment as a “punishment” for arguments, or poor communication. The last one isn’t a deal breaker for him, but if you expect him to read your mind when you’re upset about something, you’re in for a lot of disappointment. He needs to be told things outright.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

The whole bed is his side of the bed. You’re also his side of the bed. He can start off contained, happily falling asleep as your big spoon (or little spoon depending on his mood), but soon enough he’s hogging the whole thing. A leg over your waist, his head on your pillow, his other leg half hanging off his side of the bed. Get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and you’ll come back to him sleeping with his limbs out like a starfish. Nudge him a bit and he’ll go back to barnacle mode without even waking up, pulling you in to be his little spoon again.

[nico-di-genova]

Post Shanghai Strollonso

A/N: I am coping well, in case you couldn’t tell :)

“Fuck!” Lance yells once he’s back in the safety of his drivers room, letting out the expletive with a breath he’s been holding since he first climbed out of the car and was cast familiar looks by staff. Not the pity, or the mildly impressed arch of an eyebrow that had come last year, when he’d had to use all of his willpower to pull himself out of the car with his wrists on fire and tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. But instead it was the usual cool indifference, the barely hidden smirk, the look that told him he should probably just avoid social media for the next few days - prepare for the meeting with his team where statements, and image, and body language were the terms of the day.

“Fuck!”

His race suit is low on his hips, sleeves brushing the floor because he’s too lazy to bother tying them around his waist, but it still feels too hot. Still feels like he can’t breathe. Even with the AC in the room blasting, even with the damp towel he’s got wrapped around his neck. He knows it’s not the heat at all, but he still fights to strip off the fireproof undershirt that’s clinging to his skin anyway.

He pulls at the neck of it, rubs at his Adam’s apple, the soft spot under his jaw, until the buzzing in his ears subsides enough that he can peel the sweat soaked nomex off of him with desperate fingers.

“Fuck!” He yells again, because the shape of the word feels nice on his tongue and the sound of it in the quiet space makes the ache in his chest hurt a little less.

His skin is red, flushed with heat and his own frustration, his fingers leave white flashes of colorless indentions when he presses them to his chest and tries to still the quickening beat of his own heart. Post race adrenaline, he tells himself, even as he knows the truth of it.

‘That weird incident’ comes the journalists voice playing on repeat in his head, along with the whir of the AC and the rapid pace of his own heart.

His front wing going up the ass of Riccardo’s visa-cashapp-Red-Bull-toro-rosso-whatever-the-fuck. Him looking away for one fucking millisecond at the apex and then turning back to find himself sending Daniel into the air.

Idiot.

He’s not sure if he means himself or Daniel anymore, is certain he knows who the internet will be directing the term at. Despite the fact that he’d tried to brake, slammed on the pedal so fast that his body had jerked with force of it. Hadn’t mattered in the end because he’d made contact anyway and that would be enough to cement the barrage of comments he’s sure will be flooding the Aston Martin Instagram any second now. At least there’s dependability in that.

The pressure in his chest isn’t fading, it’s spreading and making a home in the pit of his stomach. He presses a hand to his abdomen, the other to his collarbone, tries to breathe slowly even if it catches in his throat. In through his nose, out through his mouth, choke on the taste of it and start over again.

Sometimes he thinks it would be easier just to let himself vomit, hyperventilate until he’s dry heaving over the toilet, his body seizing with the force of it. Press his forehead to the cool porcelain to maybe ease some of the heat roiling off his body, sit there until someone came to pull him to the debrief and he’s forced to pack it all back away.

But right now he’s not sure if he’d even make it to the bathroom, knows it’s not vomit that would come up anyway, just his own bitter disappointment. He’s not sick, he’s just a screwup. There’s no amount of surgery or PT or encouraging words that are going to fix that.

His breath catches in his throat again. Loud, weak.

“Fuck,” he cries, this time feels the sting of tears that accompanies it.

He presses harder on his collarbone, moves to the soft skin of his neck, digs his fingernails in until there’s the pinprick warning of pain and then collapses down onto the couch behind him with enough force that it forces air back into his lungs. He keeps a hand to his neck, trails his thumb along his carotid.

It helps, gives him something to focus on other than the rattling feeling of his teeth clacking together when he’d hit Daniel.

The knock on his door, when it comes, is almost expected. Quiet, unsure, followed by Fernando saying his name.

“I’m here,” Lance forces out around the lump in his throat, hates how pathetic he sounds.

“Coming in,” Fernando warns before he’s opening the door, sliding through the crack big enough for his lithe frame, and then closing it behind him just as fast. It’s not the first time someone from the team would see him slinking in. Fernando doesn’t care, he only cares that they don’t see Lance. Pathetic and miserable as he must look.

He’s not crying yet, which feels like a plus. But he knows from how Fernando looks at him he must not appear entirely put together either.

“You are okay?” And he means the crash, it is always the first thing he asks, because the one time he didn’t Lance was hiding bruised ribs that were already turning his skin a dark purple.

“Yeah,” Lance breathes, tries to, grimaces when the word comes out strangled by his own incompetence. “It was small.”

Fernando would have seen the footage by now, playing on repeat in the media pen similar to the loop in Lance’s head. He would be able to assess that his inability to breathe properly stemmed not from the pain, but from the noise in his own head.

Lance presses harder at the soft skin of his neck, tries to stop the rising tide of static that is building in his ears so he can focus on the way Fernando sighs his name. He likes how he says his name, likes that it doesn’t come with any sort of expectation, or disappointment.

“Come here,” Fernando commands, grabs Lance’s hand that had been rubbing absentmindedly at his stomach, tracing patterns over bare skin, and pulls until Lance is sitting up on the couch.

“It is okay,” he promises as he inserts himself between Lance’s knees, holds the back of Lance’s head as it slumps forward to rest against Fernando’s abdomen.

Lance swallows, tries, blinks back tears.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. At this point the word has become as familiar to him as the expletives he’s fond of shouting in his empty drivers room. It comes easy in the space between them, hidden in the comfort of Fernando’s embrace. Easier here, where he knows it cannot be used against him, than to the microphones that had been demanding it.

Fernando doesn’t acknowledge the apology, instead he just presses his palm to the nape of Lance’s neck until the warmth of his touch forces Lance to feel something other than his own crushing ineptitude. His fingers are rough, calloused, where they find the soft skin and baby hairs, Lance pushes himself further back against them.

He’s got his arms wrapped around his body, hands tucked under his biceps, one protectively covering the tattoo at his ribs, the raw spot aching with the ghost of a needle and teenage nativity. His stomach still hurts, his chest is still tight. Like he’s got the full effect of g-forces still pressing on him and he can’t quite get the air into his lungs. The tears haven’t fallen yet, but he can feel them beading on his lashes when he tries to blink them away.

“Just breathe,” Fernando demands, thumb finding the hollow spot behind his ear, where his jaw gave way to muscle and vein, and pressing.

Lance stutters in a breath, swallows again, nods his head so Fernando knows he’s listening. That he’s trying.

“It is over.”

Lance wishes that were true, wishes he could close his eyes without seeing Daniel’s rear wheels come off the track. Wishes he could take back his own impulsive radio message because it will be nothing but fuel to the fire. Wishes Daniel would text him back, or hit him, anything to snap him out of this muddled headspace he’s found himself in.

“It’s over, Lance. In the past.”

“I tried to stop,” he hates how small his voice sounds, whiney, strangled. Nothing like Fernando’s and nothing like the usual indifference he shoots for. It makes him feel small. His hands wrap more tightly around his sides, his knees pull closer to his chest as he curls tighter in on himself.

“No, tesoro, come on.”

Fernando follows him, kneels until he can take either side of Lance’s neck in his hands and hold him up enough that Lance has no choice but to meet his steady gaze. There’s grey in his eyebrows, in his beard, age in the lines of his face that make Lance feel even smaller.

“I fucked up,” he cries, and this time the tears do fall, trail down his cheeks until Fernando wipes them away with the pad of his thumb.

“This race, yes. So you go to the next one.”

“I’ll just fuck that up too.”

“Maybe not. Maybe you win.”

The laugh that Lance lets out is stifled only by his own sob.

Fernando’s lips quirk up, “No? You don’t think so?”

“Not unless half the grid gets appendicitis.”

“Or food poisoning,” Fernando says suggestively, light in his eyes, mischief in his smile.

Lance laughs again, feels the rumble of it when Fernando’s hands cradle his neck tighter. But then he thinks about how Daniel has left him on read and the laughter dies in his throat. He thinks of future awkward FaceTime calls with Scotty and a cold shoulder from his sister and something icy twists inside him. His stomach hurts all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again.

Fernando’s smile shifts to something smaller, “is okay,” he promises before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Lance’s.

Not for the first time, Lance finds himself yearning for Bahrain. Not this year, but last. The way that when he’d come sixth it may as well have been a podium with how the team reacted. How they smiled at him and it felt like the closest he’d come to tasting champagne in a while. How Fernando had praised him and it felt like winning the championship. He never could tell if it was the pain meds or his own euphoria that made everything seem brighter that night. By the time he woke up the next morning his wrists were so sore it felt like he’d snapped them all over again and so Bahrain had become nothing more than a sweet taste at the back of his throat that he would forever remember the aftertaste of but never the full flavor.

“Should break my wrists again, maybe then we’d get a podium” he says, before he can think to keep that inside his own head, knowing it’s the wrong thing to say when Fernando tenses.

“Sorry. Joke. My bad.”

“Not funny.”

Lance isn’t really sure he meant it to be funny at all. Instead, he’s thinking about how easy it would be to replicate the accident. Take Fernando’s stupid little scooter and trip it over a crack in the pavement, let himself fall and land at the same angle. He’s thinking about the singleminded focus that had come with trying to keep his car under his control with pain killers in his system and fire in his veins. How there had been an almost startling clarity to it.

“Could be your hero again,” he teases, even as a small part of him means it, misses Fernando’s praise even if it’s still something he gets freely.

Fernando scowls, “You still are.”

“I wasn’t looking when I hit him. I was looking at the stupid apex.”

“And? You are both okay, yes? So it is over.”

But it isn’t, because Lance has been here countless times before, keeps landing here. In Singapore when he’d split the car in two. In Jeddah when he’d clipped the wall then been asked to bring his lifeless car back to the pit. Narrowly avoided it all in Suzuka. Either the universe has it out for him or theres something wrong with him. Lance is beginning to lean toward the latter, beginning to believe some of the toxic shit he’s managed to catch glimpses of online before the functioning part of his brain has enough sense to close out of Twitter.

Fernando wipes away the fresh wave of tears, but it isn’t enough. Lance is hungry, desperate to rid himself of the ache in his gut and the pain in his chest and the hole in his heart that searches for that last bit of champagne in a bottle that’s run long dry. He’s tired too. Wants it all to end. Wants to sink into Fernando’s arms and be told that he’s doing a good job and for it to not be a lie.

Stupid fucking apex, stupid fucking breaks, stupid fucking safety car.

Fernando pulls him closer and Lance goes, lets himself be guided to the crook of Fernando’s neck and held there while he sobs. Both of them ending up curled up on the floor, Fernando’s fingers trailing a path up and down the notches of his spine.

Fernando twists enough to press a kiss to Lance’s temple and he sobs harder. The softness of it all, kindness from a man who owes him none, makes him sick all over again. He wants to be hit, but Fernando only holds him like he is worth holding and it’s cracking something inside Lance.

Something in him has maybe broken, more than his wrists.

“It will be okay.” Fernando keeps promising.

Lance wants so badly to believe him. He thinks Fernando would keep repeating it until he does. Both of them stubborn, both of them unyielding. Lance fears it will eventually land them both in the wall, fears he’ll be the one to send them there. He hates that he’s old enough to have fears now.

Everything is so much easier when you’re seventeen.

“What do I do?” He cries against Fernando’s neck, the warmth of him, the strong scent of him that Lance has smelled in sheets and pillows and the hoodies he sometimes stretches out to force his way into. Like a panther that’s confused itself with a kitten, or a pampered lapdog the size of a Great Dane. Fernando’s been buying larger sizes out of expectation that Lance will eventually ferret the clothing away from him.

“Right now you just breathe. We deal with the rest later.”

“Danny hasn’t texted me back,” he maybe won’t ever, floor damage and a dnf might have been the final thing to sever whatever feeble string kept them on speaking terms.

Fernando keeps trailing a hand up and down Lance’s back, pauses at the nape of his neck to soothe at the skin there, waits until Lance relaxes marginally before he resumes his slow track back down Lance’s spine. The pattern, repetitive in its nature, is helping.

“Just breathe, Lance. For now, this is all.”

He breathes, it hurts to do so, but he manages. He’s become good at that, managing. His expectations, his emotions, everything but his view of himself and the way that everything he manages comes crumbling down the second he messes up. So maybe he isn’t actually managing at all.

“Lance,” Fernando says, hard-edged when he hears Lance’s breathing stutter again.

“Sorry.”

“No more sorry. No more thinking, yes? Just you and me.”

Lance finds the fabric of Fernando’s undershirt, grabs fistfuls of it so the world can maybe become a little more real, his head a little less floaty. Fernando makes a pleased sound.

“I am here,” Fernando promises.

He feels just as real as Lance’s hands on the wheel had, just as solid as the barrier, as Daniel’s silent, steely, anger. Lance’s grip tightens, keeps tightening until Fernando becomes more real than anything else. Until he can feel the floor of the driver’s room pressing hard against his knees and has enough sense to complain about it.

Until he can breathe and Fernando’s hand at the nape of his neck becomes a grounding point.

Later, in the debrief, he wears Fernando’s hoodie. Aston Martin green and tight on his shoulders. He pulls at the hem of it, breathes in the scent of it, thinks about Miami. He’s told to stay off of socials. And his chest tightens, until Fernando’s hand finds his under the table. A thumb tracing the ridges of his knuckles.

“I’m not the TikTok guy anyway,” he jokes, tries to anyway.

Fernando smiles, “Too old for it?”

“Nah, not cool enough.”

And what he maybe means is never enough. Means that Fernando is good at pleasing a crowd, drawing an audience, doing all the things Lance just can’t seem to get right. But Fernando knows that, which is why he squeezes Lance’s hand tighter- why he doesn’t let go.

“I think you are.”

Lance supposes that’s enough.