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punkshort · 2 months

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somewhere to run | 13. the trial pt.2

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: The trial comes to an end and you go back to your life before.

Chapter Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), bath sex, piv (somewhat) unprotected sex, breeding kink?, language, dirty talk, parental emotional abuse, oral sex (f receiving)

WC: 11.9K

A/N: Beginning was inspired by this anon ask a while back - thank you! Also, please excuse my shitty law expertise. I have no idea if what I'm writing is actually factual because I got my law degree from movies and TV.

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Joel's entire body ached.

Under normal circumstances, he hated testifying in court. It was a long process, the benches were always uncomfortable, and by the end of the day his back was screaming at him. But this time, it was worse. His muscles were tense all day, twitching just underneath his shirt as he had to listen to every excruciating detail of what that monster put you through. By the time Madeline called him to the stand, he thought he would snap in half from the pressure. He remained tense throughout her questioning, but he was experienced enough to not allow his stress to show. He knew that it was too important and he needed to be the best possible witness he could be. He even made a point of trying to rein in his accent so he sounded more professional to the jury.

But all of that flew out the window when Beckett fucking Kennedy began his line of questioning.

Sheriff, have you ever had sex with the plaintiff?

Madeline leapt up from her chair, yelling objections at the judge while her and Beckett argued over the relevance of his question. Joel stared straight ahead, patiently waiting for the argument to settle. He knew this might happen, and they prepared for it.

"You better be going somewhere with this," the judge had warned Beckett before allowing Joel to answer.

"Yes," he had replied through gritted teeth.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw members of the jury shift in their chairs and a murmur ripple through the crowd. The judge tapped his gavel, reminding the room to be silent, before nodding at Beckett to continue.

"When was the first time?" Beckett asked, his eyes bright, knowing he had Joel right where he wanted him.

Joel hesitated, trying to remind himself to give as little information as possible, but it was going to sound bad any way he sliced it.

"The evening the plaintiff gave her statement."

Beckett raised his eyebrows at Joel and gave the jury a disbelieving look.

"The same evening she had all these injuries you've accused my client of inflicting?"

They didn't prepare for that. No, Maddy certainly didn't expect this sleazeball to accuse Joel of inflicting any type of harm on you, and something in him snapped.

"Are you tryin' to say I did that-" he pointed at the now blank monitor, "to her? I wouldn't lay a finger on her!" His voice was too loud. His blood was boiling. He was seeing red and he knew he was losing control. You had curled your hand into a fist and pressed it anxiously against your mouth. Madeline caught his attention and narrowed her eyes and he took a deep breath.

"But you did. You just admitted to having sex with her that evening, so by definition you laid a finger on her," Beckett said, clearly pleased he was getting under Joel's skin. Luckily, before Joel could reply, the judge intervened.

"Move on, counselor."

Beckett slowly paced in front of his own table. Patrick sat back in his chair with a stupid smirk plastered across his face while Beckett readied his next question.

"Can you describe the nature of your sexual relations that night?"

"Objection!" Madeline yelled, standing up from her chair.

"Sustained," the judge said, frowning at Beckett.

"I'll rephrase," he said, and Joel could feel his blood pressure rising. "Did you have what could be considered rough sex with the plaintiff?"

A few women behind the benches gasped quietly to themselves, as well as a few jurors at the unexpected, and inappropriate, question.

"No."

"Are you sure about that, sheriff?"

"Yes, I was there. I'm sure." Joel said, staring daggers at Beckett now.

Beckett hummed and continued to pace thoughtfully, purposely dragging out the questions so it would annoy him. And it was working.

"Are you currently in a relationship with the plaintiff?"

Joel swallowed and ticked his jaw to the side. "No."

"Really?" Beckett asked, raising his eyebrows curiously as he paused in front of the bench. "When was the last time you had sex with the plaintiff?"

Joel sighed and couldn't help but meet your gaze. He could see the anguish all over your face, the tears welling up in your eyes, knowing he was going to have to answer honestly and what it could mean for you both.

"A month or so ago."

Madeline glared at him over her glasses and he knew she was already planning on giving him an earful for not warning her, but he didn't care. He just needed to get this over with.

"Sounds like a relationship to me," Beckett said.

"Objection."

"Sustained."

Another excruciating fifteen minutes crawled by where Beckett lobbed question after question at Joel, building up an image of him in front of the jury as a man who wielded his power as town sheriff to target his client so that he could run off with his wife. Joel did the best he could, but he felt like he was failing. Once Beckett sat down, announcing he was through, Madeline stood up.

"Redirect, your honor."

The judge nodded and Madeline stood in front of him once again, staring him down.

"The evening the defendant was arrested for being drunk and disorderly, who swung first?"

"The defendant did."

"Was the plaintiff there at the time?" Madeline asked, and Joel shook his head.

"No, ma'am."

"Did you have any idea at that point in time what the defendant had allegedly done to the plaintiff?"

"No, ma'am."

"So it sounds to me like you were just doing your job, is that correct, sheriff?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"No further questions," Madeline said, then turned on her heel to sit back down beside you.

He could feel Michelle's eyes on him when he stood up from the stand and it made him want to squirm. He could only imagine the shit she had to say about all this. She had tried to stop him after court adjourned for the day, but he was too pissed off. He stormed out of the courtroom, not even bothering to wait for you or Madeline.

He regretted leaving you the moment he stepped foot outside, but he knew he couldn't be seen with you. Not in that room. Not after the line of questioning Beckett pummeled him with. So instead, he found himself all alone in the nearest drugstore, picking up a box of Epsom salts and a bottle of extra strength Tylenol. The hotel was a short distance away on foot, but his back and hips were killing him after everything he had been through. Every step felt like torture. His head pounded so loudly he could hardly focus, his jaw clenched so tightly he thought he would crack a tooth. It was times like this he wished he was more of a drinker.

He quickly shed his jacket and belt and headed into the bathroom, running the water as hot as his skin would allow and pouring in a generous amount of Epsom salts before taking off the rest of his clothes and leaving them in a wrinkled pile on the floor. He slipped into the bath with a groan, instantly finding some relief from the heat, and closed his eyes.

He had brought his phone into the bathroom, but it sat silently on the tile floor next to the tub. He couldn't imagine you or Madeline or Michelle or anybody would want to reach out to him at that moment, but just in case you did want to talk, or if Sarah needed something, he kept it close by.

He took a deep breath, his eyes still closed as he let his mind wander and allowed the bath to relax his aching body. What he wouldn't give to have you there with him right now. He just wanted to be with you so badly, even if you weren't doing anything, even if you were just in the same room, that's all he wanted. Just to be breathing the same air as you would be more than enough.

His tired mind heard a click, then the shuffling of feet on carpet. His eyes cracked open just as the door slowly swung into the room, and relief flooded his veins when he saw your face.

"How'd you get in here?" he asked with a lazy smile, his eyes raking up and down your body. You grinned down at him but didn't say a word, just took a hesitant step towards him with your perfect lower lip tucked between your teeth. "You walked around the hotel wearin' just that?" he asked, eyeing the short, white silk teddy you were wearing.

"Mhm," you hummed, kneeling down in front of the tub and dipping your hand into the water. "Feels nice."

"You wanna get in?"

"Yes," you said breathlessly, standing up to lift the teddy over your head, revealing your naked body to him, and he groaned.

"Fuck, you're so perfect," he mumbled, reaching his hands up to steady you as you stepped carefully into the tub to join him.

"It was such a hard day," you cooed, your hands drifting up his arms, fingers sending goosebumps all over his skin, and he nodded. "Can I help you relax?"

"Yes," he whispered, tilting his head back with a sigh when your hand dipped below the water, slowly dragging down his stomach before reaching his cock. He moaned softly when your delicate little fingers wrapped around him and began to pump him leisurely under the water.

You shifted so your thighs straddled his lap, your hand never leaving his throbbing length, and slowly sank yourself down onto him.

"Ohmygod," you whined, your hands gripping the sides of his head now, water dripping down his cheeks while you slowly began to rock your hips against him. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you close and squeezing your ass.

"I love you," he moaned, not caring anymore. "I love you so much, I'll do anythin' for you," he rambled as you sped up, the both of you beginning to pant for air.

"I know. I love you too, Joel," you told him, your fingers creeping up to get tangled in his hair. He nuzzled his face against your neck, basking in your touch as you continued to bounce up and down, bringing him closer and closer.

"Nothin' can keep us apart, you hear me?" he mumbled into your skin. "Wanna be with you forever. Wanna make you mine. Wanna give you a baby." He groaned when you whimpered and gave his hair a firm tug. "Would you like that? Want me to fuck you so good you have my baby?"

"Yes!" you cried out as you clenched around him, little moans falling from those perfect lips as he continued to fuck up into you, muttering praise in your ear until he came so hard and so fast it made him lightheaded.

But when he opened his eyes, you vanished. He was still alone in the bath, surrounded by lukewarm water and his fist gripping his softening cock as his breathing began to stabilize. With a grimace, he turned the knob to drain the tub and stood up, snatching a towel off the bar and wiping himself down quickly before stepping out.

He leaned over the sink, staring at his reflection in the foggy mirror. His eyes looked tired. He felt tired. His shoulders sagged but his head and muscles felt marginally better.

He would never forgive himself if he ruined this for you. He fucking knew better. Everyone warned him but he actually convinced himself no one would find out, and now everything was out in the open. Everything was on the record.

He didn't even want to think what this would mean for his own legal trouble with Patrick. Dan said it could cost him his job, and he didn't really believe it until today. He felt the panic begin to swell in his chest and he pushed away from the sink, disgusted and unable to look at himself anymore. Grabbing his phone, he strolled out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist before flopping tiredly on the bed.

He wanted to call you. He needed to hear your voice. He wanted you to make him feel better, but he couldn't bring himself to call. He was too ashamed of himself. Ashamed for letting his feelings get in the way of something so fucking important to you. Ashamed for the way he behaved in court. Ashamed for the way he left you.

He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to have you soothe him. He fucking knew better. He should have put a stop to this thing with you. He never should have started it in the first place. Not when so much was at stake. But he just couldn't control himself. He couldn't fucking stop.

As he laid there, clad in only a towel while the TV droned on in the background, he wondered what you were doing. Were you upset? Were you mad at him? Fuck, he should really call you. Not to ease his own mind but to make sure you were okay. But when he picked up his phone, it rang in his hand. And when he saw Maddy's name pop up, he couldn't help but think she must have somehow known what he was about to do and she was putting a stop to it.

"Hey," he said into the phone, bracing himself for the lecture. He deserved it. He wasn't going to hide from it. "I know you're pissed, and I'm sorry. I should've told you-"

"I'm not calling about that, although I will kick your ass for that later, mark my words," she scolded, and he sat up on the bed, his interest piqued. "Are you sitting down?"

"Yes," he said, his heart beginning to thrum faster in his chest.

"Guess who I just got a call from?"

"Who?"

"Nina fucking Hoffman," she said triumphantly on the other end. Joel's lips parted in surprise and his eyes darted around the room, trying to catch up with what that meant.

"What'd she say?" he asked nervously.

"She said she's changed her mind and she spoke to the other girls, and while not all of them are willing to come forward, she did manage to convince three others," Madeline said hurriedly, and he could hear the excitement in her voice.

"H-how did she find the others? I didn't share their information with her, Maddy, I swear-"

"The Trojan horse himself, Officer Bates, reached out to a few of the girls and tried to help us out," she said, and he could tell she was grinning.

Officer Bates. A man who worked in the same precinct as Patrick and witnessed what he had been doing, had contacted Madeline to inform her there's been other girls, which prompted Madeline to call Joel that sent him on a wild goose chase in Philadelphia that he thought ended up being a lost cause, but apparently not.

"You know what the best part is?" she asked excitedly. Madeline never acted like this. She was always matter of fact and level headed. Whatever was happening was huge, and Joel began to feel the weight being lifted from his chest.

"What?"

"There's video evidence, Joel. Fucking video! I'm looking at it right now. Time stamped and everything. Faces clear as day... apparently one of these girls had a nanny cam in her apartment."

Joel sucked in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Tell me we got 'em, Maddy."

"We got him, Joel."

He let out a shaky breath, his heart hammering like crazy now. He didn't fuck everything up. You're going to win and, most importantly, you'll be safe. His hands were trembling so badly that he had to set his phone down and put it on speaker.

"What's the next move?" he asked, standing up to get fresh clothes. "What d'you need me to do?"

"Nothing," she said, and he heard her tapping on her keyboard in the background. "I'm going to use this as leverage. I'm waiting for Kennedy to call me back and I'm going to try to strike a deal and end this."

"A deal?" Joel repeated, standing up from his suitcase, which was spread open on the floor.

"Yes, a deal. Don't you want this to end or do you really want me to put her up on the stand tomorrow? After you couldn't keep your dick in your pants? You really want that asshole to put on a repeat performance?" she snapped.

He winced, but knew he deserved it, so he remained silent.

"Besides, it's a miracle these other women are willing to go on the record as it is. Putting them up on the stand will just traumatize them further."

"Does she know?" he asked.

"No! And don't you go telling her until I know this is wrapped up. If this doesn't work, I can't have her getting her hopes up," she said sternly.

After he hung up with Maddy, he finally started to feel some relief. Maybe he actually made a difference going to Philadelphia. But ultimately he knew all of this wouldn't even be happening without the one cop in Patrick's whole precinct who had a fucking conscience. He knew the officer preferred to remain as anonymous as possible for obvious reasons, but he really had to find a way to thank him.

He stared at his phone for a moment, chewing on his lower lip, his foot tapping anxiously on the carpet. Glancing at the clock to make sure it wasn't too late, he snatched up his phone and tapped on your number. He wasn't going to tell you the news, but he still wanted to talk to you. He needed to make sure you were okay.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he said, a little breathlessly. He was still too excited about the news Madeline had just shared, so he tried to tone it down. "Just wanted to check on you. You doin' okay?"

He heard you shift around and your TV muted in the background.

"I guess so."

"I'm sorry I didn't walk out with you," he began, and he heard you suck in a breath over the phone. "After all that shit, I didn't wanna give them more ammo, y'know?"

You didn't say anything for a moment and his ears strained to read your silence.

"That's it?" you asked.

"What'dya mean?"

"You didn't leave because..." you trailed off and he furrowed his brow.

"Because what?" he urged.

"Because you're rethinking this? Rethinking us?" you asked, and he could hear the tremble in your voice.

"Oh god, baby, no," he breathed. "No, never. Don't think that." He heard you breathe a sigh of relief, but you remained silent. "I'm sorry. I was pissed off, I should've-"

"It's okay," you told him. "It was just a shitty day."

"Yeah," he agreed, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm a little freaked out about tomorrow," you admitted, and he could hear it in your voice: the anxiety and fear that always came out whenever you spoke about Patrick, and some dark part of him wished he could wrap his fingers around that motherfucker's throat to make sure he could never hurt you again.

"It'll be okay," he told you, and now he fully understood why Maddy was going for a deal over a potentially stronger sentence a jury could dole out. You didn't deserve to go through every excruciating detail again, especially in front of a room full of people. People who would just look at you with pity, or judge you for sticking around as long as you did. "Remember what I told you, you just look right at me, okay?"

"But if I do that, won't that make things worse? The jury will see-"

"No, it'll be fine. They won't be able to tell," he said, and he wasn't sure if that was even true, but he just needed to put you at ease. He listened to you breathing on the other end, not saying a word, and it took all his willpower to not knock down every door in the hotel until he found you and scooped you up into his arms.

"But then you have your lawsuit-"

"I told you not to worry 'bout that," he said, his eyebrows pinching together.

"Patrick told me Nikki is going to testify against you, Joel," you told him, and his lips parted in surprise.

"What?"

"He told me this morning. He said she would testify that your feelings for me caused you to approach him at the bar that night."

"That's bullshit," Joel scoffed. "Hank's already stated on the record that he wanted me to escort Patrick outta the bar, and he was the only sober one in the goddamn place. Nikki's not a reliable witness, she was drunk, they're graspin' at straws," he continued as he tried to tamp down the anger growing in his belly.

"I'm so sorry I caused all of this, Joel," you said softly, and when he heard you sniffle, it broke his heart.

"You didn't do anythin', please stop blamin' yourself. None of this is your fault."

"Maybe my mom's right. Maybe if I -"

"Stop right there," Joel said, sitting up straighter now and clenching his jaw. "Nothin' that woman's ever said is right. Get that outta your head right now. Don't let her manipulate you like that. Don't you see you deserve better? You deserve so much more than what these people have given you, and -"

He stopped short, biting the inside of his cheek, trying to hold himself back.

"And what?" you asked after a few moments.

"And... I'm gonna do my best to give you everythin' you deserve," he said, leaving out those three little words that kept jumping to the tip of his tongue.

He heard you let out a shaky breath and readjust on your bed. Fuck, he wished he was there with you right now. He could help you feel better. You were so close, too, but after the day you both had, he couldn't risk making things worse.

"I should probably go," you finally said, your voice sounding so small. "I want to study the questions Madeline's going to ask me once more."

"Okay," he replied, and he could tell he hadn't done much to help your nerves, but he gave it one more shot. "It's gonna be okay. I promise you, this'll all be over soon and we can put this behind us."

"I know," you said, "thank you, Joel. For everything. I know today was really hard."

"It's worth it," he said, and he meant it, but for your sake he really hoped Maddy was striking a deal with Patrick's lawyer at that very same moment.

You had hardly slept and it showed.

It was far too late in the night when you considered taking a sleeping pill, so you just put on the TV and hoped you would get some sleep, but at best you got two hours. Your nerves were a mess. Your stomach was churning so badly that you didn't even trust yourself to eat or drink anything other than water that morning, and to make matters worse, Madeline and Joel were nowhere to be found. So, you found yourself sitting alone at the plaintiff's table, and as the court room began to fill up, you kept turning around in the hopes of seeing one or both of the faces you were looking for. One of those times, your eyes locked with your mother and you quickly turned back around in your seat. It was a good thing you didn't eat anything because you were fairly confident at this point, you would have thrown up all over your hideous blouse.

You: where are you??

You stared down at your unanswered text to Joel. What the hell was going on? You had really hoped today, of all days, they would be there early so you could go over some last minute tips before taking the stand.

You could hear the crowds of people murmuring behind you amongst themselves as the clock ticked closer to nine. The room had gotten too full now, so you stopped looking at the door. It was becoming too embarrassing and you really didn't want to catch your mother's eye again, but you had noticed at least Michelle didn't show up this time.

The door swung open but you remained still, staring down at your list of questions and mentally rehearsing your answers, double checking your notes in the column for certain inflections or physical actions you wanted to take at specific points when you finally heard Joel's voice behind you.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," he said breathlessly, and you swiveled around in your seat.

"Where's Madeline?" you hissed, but he didn't pick up on your agitation. Or if he did, he didn't care because he was grinning. Fucking grinning as you were on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"She'll be here in a minute," he assured you, crouching down in front of the railing so he could keep your conversation private.

"In a minute? The trial's about to start! What do I do-"

"No, it's not," he said, his brown eyes sparkling as his smile stretched even wider.

"What do you mean?" you asked nervously, your eyes darting around the room at the people patiently waiting.

"It's -"

He was cut off when Madeline swung open the doors to the courtroom, followed closely by Beckett Kennedy, a confident smile sprawled across her face. Beckett dropped his briefcase on his table, and if you didn't know any better, he seemed annoyed. You ignored the bailiff in the corner of the room who ducked back behind the judge's bench to escort Patrick out from his holding cell, joining his lawyer at his table and looking distraught.

"What's going on?" you asked her when she sat down.

"It's over," she told you. You just stared at her, stunned.

"What do you mean?"

"He struck a deal. He's about to change his plea to guilty when the judge arrives. It's all over, hun," Madeline said, squeezing your shoulder. Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened as you looked back and forth between her and Joel, each of them looking elated.

"H-how?" you stammered, and your adrenaline finally caught up with you. Your hands began to shake and your heart slammed in your chest as you waited for an explanation that you were sure you would only absorb half of because you were far too emotional to focus.

"The other girls. A few came forward and gave their statements, and one in particular had video evidence. I presented all of this to Kennedy last night, and he had to review it with his client this morning but they took a deal," Madeline said hurriedly, knowing she was running out of time. "Six years in some cushy cop prison back up north, one of those years mandatory rehab. And," she said, triumphantly pulling a thick stack of papers out of her briefcase, "he signed your divorce papers. You're no longer married."

You gasped, eyes wide as you stared at the papers she dropped onto the desk. You finally tore your gaze away and looked at Joel, tears welling up in your eyes so quickly that you couldn't even read his expression.

"Oh my god," you whispered, turning back to Madeline and shakily covering your mouth with your palm.

"All rise!"

Somehow, you managed to stand on trembling legs and blink back most of your tears until the judge entered the courtroom and sat down, allowing the rest of the room to follow except for Beckett, who remained standing.

"Your honor, may I approach?"

You watched in a daze, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself down as Patrick's lawyer walked up to the bench, murmured something to the judge, then sat back down. It was all a blur, but the judge announced there would be a change in plea, causing Patrick to stand and say the word you've been waiting to hear for years.

"Guilty."

You clapped your hands over your mouth and the tears began to flow. Madeline's arms wrapped around you as the judge tapped on his gavel, silencing the crowd behind you, and then dismissed the jury.

The bailiff led Patrick away, back into the room he emerged from moments ago, but you didn't notice. Your face was buried in Madeline's shoulder, sobbing your thanks over and over, knowing it would never be enough. Then you turned to Joel, reaching over the railing to wrap your arms around his neck. He squeezed you tightly around your ribs as you breathed in his familiar, comforting scent and you felt some of his own tears getting trapped against your neck.

"It's over," you whispered into his ear, "it's finally over."

By the time you finally collected yourself, most of the room had emptied out into the hallway, carrying with them their shocked murmurs and speculations as to what caused the sudden change in plea. Your eyes were still glimmering with tears as you walked out with Madeline. Joel trailed behind, pausing briefly to shake hands with the bailiff and exchange a few friendly words, before following you out into the hallway. You were dabbing at your cheeks with a tissue Madeline had procured from her purse, your mouth still stretched into a huge smile when he locked eyes with you, his own smile matching yours until he glanced over your shoulder. You could see the subtle change in his expression even from a distance, and your face fell a moment before you heard your mother call out your name.

You swiveled around, your heart getting stuck in your throat as you took her in. Her frail frame stood a few feet away, clutching her purse in front of her. Her makeup was perfectly done, not a hair out of place as she cleared her throat and asked to speak to you privately. By now, Joel had caught up with you. You glanced at Madeline first and then him. He tried to express his support with a small furrow of his brow and a quick nod: I'm here, I'm not going anywhere.

Turning back to your mother, you forced a tight smile and said sure before following her down the hall, out of earshot but still within range so you could still see Madeline and Joel over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out with you and Patrick," she said, her eyes briefly raking up and down your body, examining you up close now.

You didn't know what to say. The first words that popped into your head were I'm not, but you knew there would be no point, so you kept your mouth shut and just nodded.

An awkward silence passed as people filed past you, talking amongst themselves with ease and you wondered why it was always so hard to have a conversation with your own mother. And a few months ago, you blamed yourself, but today you finally felt like you could see clearly for the first time. It wasn't your fault. It never was your fault.

"I'm going to see if I can change my flight, I'd like to minimize my time spent in this godawful state as much as possible," she said, raising her chin in the air as she scrutinized a couple young women passing by. "When can we expect you back?"

Your eyes widened as you stared at her, gobsmacked.

"W-what?" you stammered, and her eyes dragged back to you.

"Back home, dear. When will you be coming back? I assume now that you've done what you came out here to do, you'll be coming back home."

You blinked rapidly and shook your head.

"What I came out here to do?" you repeated, and she sighed, looking at you as if to say drop the act.

"Yes. You wrangled some poor soul and managed to get him all twisted around in your drama so he could get you out of this mess," she said, waving over her shoulder in Joel's general direction. "So now that you got what you wanted from him, I can presume you'll be moving on."

Any other time, you would have crumpled at her words. You would have cried and bit your tongue. But not today. Today, you were free, and not just free from your ex-husband. Free from everybody who ever treated you like you weren't worthy. Like you were always the problem, like you deserved what happened to you.

"How dare you," you snarled, your eyes narrowing. "You might think you know everything about me, but you don't. I don't treat people like they're disposable. I'm not like you or Patrick. I don't hurt the people I love and take for granted that they'll forgive me," you said, the anger rising in your chest, and over her shoulder you could see Joel's body stiffen. He was watching, unable to hear you but your body language was telling him everything he needed to know.

Your mother scoffed and opened up her purse, rifling around for her compact with a little smirk.

"So this is how you're telling me you're in love with another man? Already? My god, has the ink even dried on your divorce papers?" she snickered, then flipped open the mirror to check her hair, avoiding your gaze. Your jaw tensed and you reached out, snatching the compact away and snapping it shut so she was forced to look you in the eye.

"So what?" you said, your voice getting louder and catching the attention of people passing by. "He's treated me better than Patrick or anyone else ever has. He's shown me-" you paused and looked over her shoulder, making eye contact with Joel, who looked nervous and concerned as he watched you from down the hall. "He's shown me what love is really supposed to be like," you said, your voice softening as you continued to hold his gaze. "He's been there for me through everything, good and bad. He would do anything for me, and I would do anything for him," you continued, dragging your eyes off of Joel and back to your mother. "And I deserve that. I deserve better."

Your mother regarded you for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words before she scoffed and plucked the compact out of your hand and dropped it back into her purse.

"Your father is going to hate him."

"I don't give a shit," you snapped, making her look up at you in surprise. "I'm not bringing him to Pennsylvania, Dad will never meet him because I'm not coming back," you said, looking at Joel once again. "This is my home now."

She looked around with her hands turned up towards the sky, a sarcastic smile on her face before looking back at you.

"This? This is what you consider home? Come on, be realistic," she said, dropping her hands.

"There's nothing wrong with Texas, so stop acting like there is," you told her with a frown. "I love it here. I love the people here. So, I'm staying."

Your mother opened her mouth to say more, but you held up your hand as you took a step forward.

"Have a safe flight," you said to her over your shoulder as you walked back towards Madeline and Joel. And you didn't look back once.

Madeline had insisted on taking you and Joel out to dinner to celebrate, and you excitedly agreed. In fact, you even decided to have a couple glasses of wine, something you rarely indulged in since Patrick managed to ruin the idea of alcohol for you, but you were determined not to let him influence your decisions any longer.

You didn't want to know much, but Madeline did share with you some of the details of Patrick's sentence. She told you he was cocky and arrogant when she announced there were other girls that came forward, then how stricken he looked when she played the video. He had asked for a specific prison up north, one that he knew of that was soft on cops, and in exchange he agreed to drop the charges against Joel and plead guilty to the rest of the charges for a reasonable sentence.

It only took one glass of wine for your muscles to relax and your lips to loosen up. You told the two of them over appetizers what your mother had said, leaving out some of the specifics and focusing on how you stood up for yourself, instead. And when Madeline excused herself to use the restroom, Joel gripped your hand and brought your knuckles up to his lips, his dark eyes shiny and his cheeks a little pink from the wine and he murmured how fucking proud he was of you, and you told him you never could have done it without him. He shook his head, about to say you were wrong, that you had it in you all along, but you stopped him and held his gaze.

"I mean it," you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. "You changed my life, Joel."

And if it weren't for the public setting, if it weren't for Madeline walking back over to your table, he would have said it. But the timing wasn't right, so he let the moment pass.

After dinner and a reminder from Madeline to stop by her office the next day to finalize some paperwork before heading back home, Joel walked you back to the hotel. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and it took a few minutes before you realized you didn't need to hide anymore. You wrapped your hand around his bicep, pulling yourself closer into his side and he smiled, then freed his hand so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.

"Which floor?" he asked after getting onto the elevator.

"Five," you replied, swaying slightly when the car lifted from the ground floor, the wine still coursing through your veins, making you feel loose and relaxed.

"Same as me," he said, leaning against the wall opposite you as his eyes leisurely roamed down your body, and you could tell by the playful smirk on his face that the wine had gotten to him, too.

"What a coincidence," you said, biting back a grin before carefully stepping out of the elevator when the doors opened. He followed behind you in silence. He didn't need to say anything. You could feel it. His eyes that were glued to your back, the heat that was radiating off of him, the heavy fall of his step behind you all sent a shiver down your spine.

You unlocked your door and pushed it open before turning back to Joel, who was leaning up against the wall, his hands shoved into his pockets again as he smiled at you lazily.

"See you tomorrow, then," he said, and you hummed before reaching out to fiddle with his tie, His eyes fell to your hand and watched as your fingers wrapped around the strip of material and tugged him forward. His mouth crashed against yours with a groan while his hands quickly found a home on your hips. He backed you into the room, letting the door swing shut with a quiet click, and he didn't stop until the backs of your legs hit the bed. You pulled away from his mouth breathlessly and gave his chest a gentle shove, pushing him back so you could have some room to reach around and unzip the hideous skirt you had been wearing.

"I told you I can't stand these clothes," you said softly, and he grinned as he patiently watched you strip, but once you were down to your underwear his body crowded yours once again. His hands were everywhere. Your shoulders, your back, your ass, then your face, holding you still so his tongue could delve deeper into your mouth. Your hands came to rest on his belt, fingertips tucking behind his waistband, ensuring he remained as close as possible because now that you finally had him, you didn't want to ever let him go.

One of his hands dropped from your jaw and skirted around the edge of your underwear, then he dipped an experimental finger past the fabric. When your kisses became more feverish and your hands flew up to his shoulders, he added a second finger, then slowly tugged on the material. Your legs pressed together so you could wiggle out of your panties, letting them fall to the floor around your ankles. Joel smirked against your mouth, his fingers gliding down and when they slipped easily between your folds, the smirk fell from his face. You were so wet and so warm and it was all for him.

He quickly pulled his hand out from between your legs, making you whine until he wrapped his hands around your thighs, his mouth still relentless against yours, stealing all the breath from your lungs. He lifted you up, just enough so you were seated on the bed, then crawled forward, pushing you backwards until your back was flush with the mattress and your legs dangled over the edge.

He sat back, breaking the kiss, and you sucked in deep gulps of air, watching as he fell to his knees and yanked your hips closer. Your legs fell open while his palms slid up the inside of your thighs. His thumbs parted your folds and his eyes glazed over when he saw what was waiting for him.

"Fuck," he whispered, his eyes sliding closed for a moment, trying to collect himself before they snapped open again. "Can I taste you, baby? I really wanna taste you again," he breathed, then dragged his mouth up your leg, his beard tickling your skin and making you squirm.

"Yes," you squeaked, then gasped when you felt his tongue, hot and firm, slide over your clit, then dipped lower, licking at you greedily, scooping up your arousal with a moan, as if he enjoyed it as much as you did. Your hands immediately found his hair, clutching his curls between your fingers as he eagerly licked into you, his own fingers holding you against him and gripping your thighs so tightly that his nail beds turned white.

"Oh god, Joel, I... I-" you stammered, your head tossing back and forth as you struggled to breathe. You tugged harshly on his hair when his teeth grazed against your clit and he growled, his eyes flashing up to yours, watching your face as you lost all control, his chest swelling with pride that he was the one who got to do that to you, he was the only one who got to see you come undone.

He was relentless. He refused to hold back, having spent so many painstaking months already holding back, all he wanted to do now was make up for lost time. His jaw ached from the amount of pressure he was applying between your legs, his tongue cramped from how feverishly he licked, his lips were growing numb from how aggressively he sucked on your clit but if he were to die right then and there, he would die a happy man.

Your back arched underneath him, your body thrashed in his firm hold as you whined and whimpered his name. The slow spread of heat low in your belly came rushing up your entire body in an instant, causing your thighs to tighten around his head so hard, they trembled unsteadily when you finally relaxed.

He kissed your legs tenderly, spreading your slick over your skin with his lips as he listened to you catch your breath. Your muscles twitched under his fingers and your scent filled his nostrils and something about having you so soft and pliant under his touch made him feel animalistic.

He stood up suddenly, making you jump a little in surprise and turned your head as you groggily as you watched him tear off his tie and belt. You inched up the bed so your head rested on the pillow, making room for him while he hurriedly pulled off his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers for last. He caught your eye before tugging them down and your lips parted as you watched his cock bob free.

You eagerly spread your legs and motioned for him to join you on the bed. He shot you a smirk as he bent forward and crawled on top of you, his hips falling against yours, grinding into your sensitive core. Your eyelids fluttered rapidly and a small noise slipped past your lips but his mouth quickly captured yours, giving you a heady taste of yourself with his tongue.

Your body jolted underneath him every time his hips rubbed up against your clit, little electric currents shot through your limbs, and you gasped softly each time, your senses in overdrive, your skin tingling with each gentle touch from his hand and each playful bite from his mouth as he made his way down your neck.

His tip kept catching on your opening every time he rolled his hips back, and each time you became more and more frustrated.

"Joel, please," you whined, but his focus was entirely on your chest, his mouth drifting back and forth over your breasts, which were comically pushed up by the bra he had tugged down. He reached behind you and you arched your back so he could unhook it, and he slid it down your arms before tossing it to the side, his mouth barely leaving your skin.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you reached down between your bodies and lined him up at your entrance. His hips paused and he glanced up at you from your chest.

"Please," you tried again, your eyes momentarily fluttering shut. "It's been so long, I've missed you so much, please, Joel," you begged, not caring how pathetic you sounded.

In the blink of an eye, his mouth left your breast and was once again hovering over your own as he gazed down at you, his dark eyes shifting back and forth, examining you closely.

"I've missed you, too," he murmured, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face. Then something in his expression shifted as he stared down at you heatedly. "And now you're finally all mine," he said, and as he spoke, he slowly began to sink into you, making your jaw drop and your eyes roll to the back of your head. He paused for a moment, allowing your body a chance to relax and adjust around him before pushing in further. A deep groan tumbled from his lips when he finally found himself fully sheathed inside your wet heat, then he nibbled tenderly at your chin, patiently waiting to move until you stopped writhing and whimpering.

Your hands slid up past his shoulders and got lost in his messy hair, pulling him down the last little bit so your lips connected once again. Your lips were raw and swollen from his beard but it just made you crave him even more. As your tongue slipped past his teeth, you hooked one leg around his waist and began to rock your hips up, encouraging him to move.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered, dragging his lips across your cheek while he slowly began to thrust in and out, savoring every single second. "You did so good, my brave girl," he continued, and you felt yourself flush from the praise. Your eyes slid shut, heart swelling with joy and pride and something else that you felt inching its way to the surface. With each rut of his hips, you felt the words being pushed closer and closer to the tip of your tongue.

"Joel," you gasped, his lips finding a sensitive spot on your throat while his hand gripped the meaty part of your hip, pressing and tugging you as close to him as possible. Your bodies began to stick together, the noise from your skin and sweat adding to the little grunts and moans coming from each of you.

His touch was too gentle, his kisses too soft, words too sweet. It was making your mind hazy and muddled, to the point where you were worried you were babbling something you didn't intend to share just yet, so you bit down on your lip to keep the words inside, safe and sound.

"Are you okay?" he panted in your ear, slowing down when he noticed your prolonged silence. You blinked back the tears before he could see and you nodded.

"Yes," you whispered, your fingers slipping through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. "Faster," you mumbled, and you felt his fingers dig a little harder into your hip at the request.

He did as you asked, hips snapping faster now, because he could never say no to you. Not that he would want to, anyway. But to him, anything you ever wanted would be yours.

You deserved someone who would treat you right, someone who would make up for all those horrible years you had to endure. Someone who would worship the ground you walked on during the day and kneel at the altar between your legs at night.

How did he get so lucky? How was he the person you chose? He didn't dare ask, not wanting to risk you coming to your senses because if you did, he was fairly certain he would never recover. His heart would surely never heal.

"Tell me you're mine," he groaned into your neck, his eyebrows pinched together and his eyes screwed shut as he listened to the air getting punched out of your lungs with each thrust. "Need to hear it. Need to-"

"I'm yours," you moaned, cutting him off, tipping your head back and exposing your neck.

"Say it again," he said through clenched teeth, hot air puffing from his nose in rhythm with his hips.

"I'm yours, I'm all yours," you rambled, your head rolling back and forth as you felt yourself begin to lose control. The white hot heat pooling low in your belly once again. "Of course I'm yours, I lo-, I'm yours, Joel," you continued to babble, hoping he didn't notice the words that almost slipped out.

He let go of your hip so he could wrap both arms around your ribs, holding you as close as he could with both your legs tightly squeezing around his waist. He felt so heavy, inside and on top of you, the pressure from both sending you careening towards the edge. You frantically grabbed at his hair as if you needed something to hold onto, and maybe you did because when your orgasm finally hit you, it felt like you might float away. Your back arched up into him, pressing your sweaty chest into his while he pulled his head back, just a little, so he could watch your face. He kissed one of the two small tears that trickled down from your eyes, all dark and wide. Your mouth hung open as you struggled to drag in air around his name. He would never tire of it. He was certain, now, more than ever.

"You got no idea what you do to me," he said huskily, recklessly chasing his own high now. Your body sagged under him, but your shaky legs still managed to pull him in, your heel pressing into his back, urging him forward. "God, I-I want you so much... all the time... all I think 'bout," he rambled, his vision going spotty. "Oh, fuck, I'm gonna come," he gritted out, slamming his hips into you until his body stilled and he let out a filthy moan, one you did you best to memorize before he dropped his head against your heaving chest.

"Oh my god," you whispered after a few minutes of silence, the two of you trying to catch your breath. He hummed tiredly into your skin, and you could feel it reverberating through your chest, right to your heart. You took a deep breath and summoned up what little courage you had left for the day.

"Joel?"

"Hmm?"

But when you looked down at his face, eyes closed and jaw relaxed, you could tell he was moments away from falling into a deep sleep.

"Nothing. I'll tell you tomorrow," you said, kissing the top of his head. His arms loosened ever so slightly around you, your sweaty skin there finally being exposed to the cool air of the room, making you shiver. And even though you couldn't reach the sheets, you were still warm because you were surrounded by him, and that was enough.

"If we're late, I am telling Madeline it was all your fault," you told him, grinning like a fool at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your hands were busy trying to make your hair look somewhat presentable, but his hands were busy roaming up and down your body. His chest pressed against your back and his chin tucked into the crook of your neck made your task even more difficult, but you didn't dare squirm away.

"That's fine. She's mad at me, anyway," he said, planting chaste kisses against your shoulder.

You finally resigned yourself to pulling your hair into a low ponytail and then turned around in his arms. His lips immediately found yours and you couldn't stop the smile from spreading across your face.

"Joel, c'mon," you whined, but your hands drifted up his chest, contradicting your tone. "You still need to go back to your room and clean up. I wanna hit the road right after this meeting," you said, pressing a kiss against his neck. "I wanna go home."

He sighed and gave you one more kiss before dropping his hands and pulling away.

"Fine," he said, trying to sound cross but you could see right through him. "Lemme go change and pack, I'll meet you down in the lobby in half an hour."

"You're going to need longer than that, you need to shower," you said, scrunching up your nose as you watched him button up his wrinkled shirt from the day before.

He just caught your eye and winked, making you giggle, before walking towards your door.

"Thirty minutes."

As it turned out, you were right on time. Somehow.

This time, when you both walked into the lobby and gave the same young and pretty receptionist your name, you didn't feel your stomach twist when she batted her eyelashes at Joel. And he didn't seem to notice her, either. His eyes were fixed entirely on you and as you sat down, you began to realize you were always so caught up in your own insecurities that you never noticed the way he looked at you. His eyes were filled with a mix of admiration, playfulness, and devotion. How on earth couldn't you see that before?

The only thing that pulled your gaze off him now was Madeline's familiar voice calling out your name. You shot her a wide smile and stood up, Joel trailing after you, and followed her down the path to her office.

"Will this take very long? I was hoping to be back home by lunch," you asked, and you felt Joel's fingers brush delicately against your lower back as you walked behind her. You hadn't really figured out what your relationship was quite yet, and the instinct to still hide it was strong. Especially from Madeline, considering how angry she was when he took the stand.

"No more than an hour," she said over her shoulder, but when her hand came to rest on her doorknob, she paused and turned back to you. "I have a little surprise for you, if that's okay," she said, and you glanced over at Joel briefly before giving her a shrug. "I have someone here who wanted to talk to you."

Your eyes went wide as a few guesses flitted through your brain, but when she opened the door and revealed a clean shaven younger man with a buzz cut, wearing dark jeans and a flannel, you realized none of your guesses were correct.

Madeline ushered you both in and shut the door behind you, and you stood in the middle of the room, your eyes examining him, trying to place him but failing. When Madeline took a few steps forward and reached an arm in his direction and introduced him as Officer Tyler Bates, your lips parted in surprise.

"Don't you work with Patrick?" you asked in disbelief, swallowing down your nerves. He gave you a sad smile and a brief nod.

"Yes, ma'am."

His voice was deeper than you expected, but so far nothing was really going as you expected. You blinked at Madeline, confused, and then Joel's hand was on your lower back again. Reassuring. Firm. He stretched an arm out and shook his hand.

"Nice to finally meet you," Joel said to him.

"Same to you, sir," Tyler said, his jaw firm. Joel looked back at your confused expression and glanced at Madeline before explaining.

"Few weeks back, Madeline got a call from Officer Bates here," he began, and Tyler went back to standing rigidly against the wall, his hands linked behind his back. "He heard 'bout your case and he wanted to help. He knew about the other victims, the girls Patrick coerced into silence, just like you," Joel said, bringing his hand up to your shoulder now. "He put us in touch with these girls. That's why I went up to Philly - because of the information he risked his neck to share," he said, looking at Tyler again. "We're forever grateful to you, Officer," Joel said earnestly.

"It's the least I could do," he replied, glancing at you with shame. "I'm so sorry, ma'am," he said, his voice cracking a bit. "I should have done more. I saw what was happening and I -" he bit his lip and turned away for a moment, and you felt the tears begin to burn in the backs of your eyes. "I stood by and did nothing. I was a rookie back then and... it's no excuse, but I just didn't know what to do," he said, meeting your gaze again, his blue eyes wet with tears. He looked down at his feet and sniffled before continuing. "I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me-"

You lunged forward and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, surprising just about everybody in the room. You could feel his body stiffen under your touch, but then his arms shifted to gently embrace your midsection.

"Thank you," you whispered in his ear, your voice thick with emotion, and you felt him nod against your shoulder.

Stepping away, you wiped a few stray tears with the back of your hand and looked at Joel, whose eyes looked just as misty as Tyler's. His throat bobbed before meeting Tyler's gaze again.

"You ever find yourself in need of a job and you happen to yearn for the excitement of a podunk town," Joel joked with a grin, and pulled his card out of his coat pocket. "You give me a call."

Tyler took the card and flipped it over in his hand before putting it in his wallet.

"I will, sir. You never know. Change of scenery may be nice."

"Well, I mean it. Don't hesitate, okay?" Joel said, holding his gaze for a moment, and Tyler nodded before looking back at you.

"Thank you both," he said, his eyes drifting between you and Joel. "I appreciate you meeting with me and hearing me out."

After Officer Bates left, Madeline explained he had come down for the trial but, for obvious reasons, preferred to not let Patrick or the other cops who had been called to his defense see him. And for maybe the first time in your life, you realized you were actually losing count of how many people you had in your corner.

It was an incredibly draining day and it was barely ten in the morning but you finally wrapped everything up with Madeline and gave her a tight hug with the promise of staying in touch. But of course, just as you were letting your guard down, a knock came on the door when you were gathering your things and Michelle, of all people, poked her head in.

Your breath caught in your throat and you immediately looked away after giving her a shy smile. You wanted to look at Joel, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Just in case he looked at her the same way he looked at you, your heart wouldn't be able to take it. But had you found the courage to look at him, all you would have seen was a stony expression and a clenched jaw as she entered the room.

"I hear congratulations are in order," she said, clapping her hands. Madeline chuckled and nodded and you dragged your eyes back up to Michelle.

"Thank you again," you said weakly, and she waved you off like it was nothing.

"We're so happy to help," she said, still grinning when she locked eyes with Joel. "How have you been, Joel?"

"Alright," he said gruffly, and you could see the tension in his broad shoulders.

You thought her smile might have faltered a bit at his tone, but she still asked "do you have a second to talk?"

His eyes flicked over to you and you gave him a tight smile before turning to Madeline.

"Do you want to walk me out? You can tell me all about that cruise you're taking with your wife," you said, tilting your head towards the door, and she nodded as she rounded the desk.

"We're going to the Caribbean, we've never been," she said excitedly, pulling out her phone. "Take a look at the cabin we booked, isn't it just gorgeous?"

Joel's eyes followed you until you reached the hallway and disappeared, your voice fading, leaving him alone with Michelle.

"It's been a while," she said awkwardly, and he grunted while he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Didn't even know you worked here."

"Just over a year now," she said, her fingers tangling nervously in front of her. "They offered me partner, great benefits, sign on bonus... I couldn't say no."

"Congratulations," he said softly, and finally forced himself to look at her. "Why'd you tell her you picked this case as a favor to me? You know that ain't true. It made her feel bad."

She sighed and glanced at the open door. "It kind of was a favor for you, Joel."

"I didn't even talk to you 'bout it, I didn't even know you worked here," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, but Victor told me you spoke to him and I may have pushed her case a little during some executive meetings," Michelle said with a shrug. Joel chewed on the inside of his cheek as he mulled over what she said.

"Why?"

She scoffed and dropped her hands to her sides in defeat. "You really need me to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah, I think I do," he said, crossing his arms defensively. She rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath before answering.

"Because I wanted to see you again," she said, her voice trembling. "Because I missed you-"

"We didn't work out for a reason, Michelle," he reminded her. "And we are standing right in the fuckin' middle of that reason. Look around," he said, waving his hand in the air. "You got what you wanted. You made partner before you were forty. I'm sure you have a beautiful house or apartment and a fancy car-"

"But I was wrong," she said, cutting him off. "I thought those things would make me happy, but... I was wrong."

Joel stared at her for a moment, feeling something stirring in his chest - pity. Pity for the woman he once loved, who made the wrong choice and was full of regret.

"You're more than welcome to get together with Sarah," he said after a moment. "She's still got the same number. Maybe you should get lunch with her. Before you know it, she'll be off to college."

Michelle nodded and dropped her chin to her chest, trying to blink back tears, but Joel still noticed. He looked away, trying to give her a moment to collect herself.

"You love her, don't you?"

His eyes shot back over to her in surprise.

"Sarah?"

"No," Michelle said, sounding exasperated. She pointed to the open door. "Her."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah."

She smiled. A sad, strangled smile, then looked at him with glistening eyes.

"Makes sense now, why you did so much for her," she said, biting her lip and looking out the window.

Guilt began to creep up as he watched Michelle struggle with what to say. "Can't thank you enough for doin' what you did," he said, his eyebrows pinching together. "You helped out someone who really needed it. You did a good thing."

"For selfish reasons," she said with a chuckle.

"Doesn't matter," he told her. Michelle met his gaze and nodded slowly, then let out a sigh and clapped her hands together. In an instant, the sadness disappeared and a resilient lawyer once again stood before him.

"I'll give Sarah a call," she said, turning towards the door, and he followed.

"She'd like that."

When they reached the hallway, she looked at him once more, a soft look that once upon a time, he would have killed to see, but now no longer wanted. "Take care, Joel."

"You, too," he replied with a small smile, then turned on his heel and headed towards the lobby.

One Week Later

"Are you switchin' me to decaf?"

You feigned offense from behind the counter of the diner, your hand coming up to clutch your invisible pearls.

"What ever do you mean?"

"I heard you and Sarah whisperin' on Saturday before the movie," he said, wagging a finger at you.

"She was just telling me about a boy she liked," you said, leaning against the counter and watching his face contort.

"What?"

You giggled and filled up a glass of water. "She's a teenager, Joel. She's going to be interested in dating."

"Over my dead body," he grumbled before taking a sip of coffee and wincing. "I swear, this don't taste right."

"Try this instead," you told him, placing the glass of water in front of his nearly empty plate.

He eyed you suspiciously but picked up the glass and drank half, earning him one of the most beautiful smiles he'd ever seen and suddenly he felt like he could drink an ocean if he got to see that smile again. He leaned forward, his arms bent over the counter, as his eyes raked up and down your body.

"Still comin' over tonight?" he asked, but your eyes went wide and you shushed him, glancing to the side where Margaret, Nikki's mother, was seated. "Oh, come on, who cares?" he said, scowling in her direction even though she wasn't even looking.

"I know, I know," you replied, picking up a rag and wiping down the counter. He watched you fidget nervously before glancing at his watch and standing up.

"Better head back," he said, shrugging his blazer over his shoulders.

"Okay," you said sweetly, and you both paused, fighting the urge to kiss goodbye. You glanced around the dining room and looked back at him. You were about to say something when Maria waved you down.

"Can you grab table three?" she asked as Tommy sauntered out of the kitchen with a rag over his shoulder. He nodded in Joel's direction before grabbing Maria's chin and giving her a deep kiss. You felt your stomach clench, wishing more than anything Joel would do that very same thing to you, but your relationship was still so fresh and you were both trying to figure out how to act. In such a small town, you knew news like that would ripple through the streets in minutes, and neither of you seemed ready to deal with the fallout just yet.

"I'll see you later," you told him, and he took a deep breath.

"Seeya."

You grabbed your pad of paper and pen and headed over to table three while Joel walked toward the front door, tapping the hostess stand to break up Maria and Tommy and wave goodbye before he left.

You felt your heart clench when the door swung shut behind him. It always did. Whenever he left, you felt like a piece of you went with him. To distract yourself, you focused your attention on your table.

"Hi, Mr. Connor," you said with a cheery smile.

"How're doin', sweetheart? How's that car treatin' ya? Get you back and forth to Austin okay?"

Most of the town already knew about the finer details of your trial, courtesy of Betty. When you got back, you had explained to her the real reason for your divorce and why it required so much time off, and before you knew it, you were being overwhelmed with well-wishers.

"It did, thank you," you said with a smile.

"Well bring it by the garage, I'll rotate the tires and do a tune-up, on the house. You've been through enough as it is, don't need that car crappin' out on ya."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the front door swing open.

"Really? Thank you so much!" you said, taken aback at his generosity. Mr. Connor nodded and smiled, then curiously looked past you towards the front door. You followed his gaze and saw Joel, his eyes landing on you at the exact same time. Your lips parted in surprise as he marched towards you, his face determined and shoulders squared.

"Did you forget something?"

"Yeah," he said, then reached out and cupped your jaw with both hands, pulling you firmly against his mouth and stealing all the air from your lungs. You dropped your pen and paper to the ground and wrapped your arms around his neck, and you faintly registered the whistles and scattered applause from the remaining guests in the diner, but your focus was entirely on him. His lips gently massaged yours and his thumbs pressed into the soft flesh of your cheeks and you couldn't think about anything else. Only him. Only ever him.

"Finally!" Betty exclaimed from a table nearby.

He pulled back with a grin, his hands still cupping your face.

"I love you."

A smile stretched across your face as tears instantly sprung to your eyes from hearing those words for the first time.

"I love you, too."

He laughed in disbelief and pulled you back in for one more quick kiss, both of you still grinning from ear to ear.

"I'll call you later," he said, dropping his hands.

"Okay," you replied, biting your lip and watching him back away, keeping his eyes on you until he reached the hostess stand, where Tommy and Maria were smirking, but he didn't look. All he could see was you. Only ever you.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller series #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #sheriff!joel #waitress reader #STR fic

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neiveel3llson · 29 days

Text

Obey Me! Incorrect quotes

Diavolo trying to convince MC to continue being the babysitter:

NB Diavolo: "What are you talking about MC? You love it here!"

NB MC: "I'm not sure I do, I think I've just developed Stockholm syndrome."

Solomon being an old ass man:

NB Solomon: "The dinosaurs didn’t rule the earth they were just alive. Stop giving them credit for administration skills they didn’t have."

Satan for no reason at all:

NB Mammon: "Do I sound smart, or am I smart? "

NB Satan: "You sound unbearable, to be perfectly honest."

Leviathan being depressed:

NB Lucifer: "How are you today?"

NB Leviathan: "Please don’t make me think about my life."

Beelzebub being.. Beelzebub:

NB Beelzebub: "My stomach growled super loud in French."

NB Beelzebub: "I would like to clarify, my stomach did not speak in French. It growled during French class."

NB Leviathan: "Bonjour."

NB MC: "Le growl."

NB Mammon: "Hon hon hon, feed me a baguette."

NB MC now that they're a demon:

NB MC: "I am literally evil incarnate."

NB MC: "I’m not actually, I just enjoy being evil."

NB MC: "Which I think actually makes it even more evil because I’m making a conscious effort."

Solomon can't cook:

NB Solomon: "I truly go into househusband mode when I'm someone's soulhousemate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning."

NB MC: "This is a lie."

NB MC: "I'm literally living with him. This is a lie."

NB MC: "HE DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS."

MC just wants to go home:

NB Solomon: "I think I'm falling for you."

NB MC: "Then get up."

Levi is sick of Satan:

NB Leviathan: "Satan is okay."

NB Beelzebub: "He's okay? He said he was going to break my legs! And don't tell me he didn't mean it, okay?! 'Cause he gave me the mackerel eyes, he meant it!"

NB Leviathan: "Beel, Satan threatened me. He threatens Lucifer every day. He probably threatened Diavolo before breakfast this morning. It's what he does. Grow a pair."

Levi self-deprocating:

NB MC: "I'm going the fight the next person who insults Levi."

NB Leviathan: "I hate myself."

NB MC: "Alright, square up."

When MC first came:

NB MC, referring to NB Mammon and NB Diavolo: "Those guys are dorks."

NB Lucifer: "Yes, but they’re my dorks."

Belphegor annoying Lucifer on purpose:

NB Belphegor: "Lucifer, we have a visitor."

NB Lucifer: "Don't tell me it's our babysitter.."

NB Belphegor: "It's MC."

Lucifer being sick of Mammon's shit:

Lucifer: "The greatest trick the diavolo's father ever pulled was changing his name to Mammon."

Mammon bc he's my fav pookie:

Mammon: "So... what would you do if you were in bed with me?"

MC: "Depends. Is your bed comfortable?"

Mammon: "Yes."

MC: "I'd sleep."

Thirteen is going insane:

Thirteen: "Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time."

Diavolo is far too concerned:

*after discussing a plan*

Barbatos: "Does anyone have any questions?"

Diavolo: "Is this legal?"

Barbatos: "Does anyone have any relevant questions?"

Satan loves to boast:

Satan: "I’m proud to identify as morosexual. I’m attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses exclusively. Someone asked me what the Spanish word for "tortilla" was once, and now I dream of kissing them under the moonlight."

MC: "What kind of animal is the Pink Panther?"

Satan, already taking off his clothes: "God, MC, you’re so fucking stupid."

It probably wouldn't work anyways:

MC: "Here’s the cold medicine you asked for." *dumps 3 shopping bags of wine on the table*

Thirteen: "...Thanks."

Levi and Garfield:

Leviathan: "I once tried to play a pirated copy of Garfield Kart, when Garfield jumped out of my PC! We are currently married with three beautiful children and a summer room in the basement of HOL with Cerberus."

Math doesn't work:

MC: "Which is correct, seven and five is thirteen, or seven and five are thirteen?"

Thirteen: "Niether."

Thirteen: "Because it's twelve."

Venomous or poisonous?:

Lucifer: "If you bite it and you die, it's poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it's venomous."

Mammon: "What if it bites me and it dies?!"

Lucifer: "Then you're poisonous. Jesus Christ, Mammon, learn to listen."

Diavolo: "What if it bites itself and I die?"

Lucifer: "That's voodoo."

MC: "What if it bites me and someone else dies?"

Lucifer: "That's correlation, not causation."

Asmodeus: "What if we bite each other and neither of us die?"

Solomon: "That's kinky."

Barbatos: "Oh my goodness."

:P done

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theminecraftbee · 5 months

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task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.

Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.

Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.

Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.

Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.

Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.

Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!

Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.

Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.

Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!

Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?

Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?

Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.

Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?

BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.

Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

#secret life smp #a bee fic #not tagging everyone in this because it's. everyone #anyway i have wanted to write this for like TWO WEEKS so i figured that now's as good a time as any #anyway this is probably as thinly disguised as my character meta gets #we talk a LOT in this fandom about curses #we talk about whether we like them as fanon we talk about whether we dislike them we talk about who has them we talk about why #we talk about if they're here or broken or anything else #so i'd like to think the characters have an opinion on curses too after how much talking about them we've been doing #...at least the characters around to tell us their opinions do.#(anyway for all I claim this is thinly disguised character meta it IS actually of note that this isn’t actually about if they believe)#(but instead about how they’d respond if they were asked)#(hence why half of them don’t even answer the right question)#(this is why I’m not good at character meta btw)

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roseykat · 6 months

Text

KINKTOBER DAY 9

TITLE: Don't bite the hand that feeds you

PAIRING: Seungmin x reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Featuring Seungmin as your lecturer's student assistant who runs your tutorials and possesses just as harsh a personality as he fucks.

TAGS: Mean tutor Seungmin, oral sex (f!reader receiving), unprotected sex, public sex, swearing.

KINK: Freelance

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @queenmea604

A/N: this is for all the Seungmin stans out there x

There isn’t any way to work around a more stubborn person. People that you’ve met before don’t even come close to the level of arrogance that this person carries with them. That person being one of your tutors for a class at Uni, Seungmin. For some reason, he always has the time of day to help other people but has an issue with your supposed incompetence in completing a task when it comes to you.

Seungmin never checks your work, never goes over your answers, discusses your ideas or anything like that. He has a very prickly attitude yet only those needles are only for you. You see the sigh he lets out whenever you need to approach him to clarify something he went over during the tutorial. You see the crease between his eyebrows as the annoyance grows when you ask if he can read a draft of yours before you submit it.

He never does that with other students. Seungmin is happy to help them, makes conversation with them before class, and always seems to have time for them.

The difference in his behaviour towards you definitely placed an unnecessary burden on your shoulders. But you’re not one to budge. Whether his intentions are malicious or not, you’re not exactly an easy one to crack, which is why you continued to supposedly ‘bother’ him.

“Hey,” you approach him after one of his tutorials, hoping you used a good enough manner to not light a fire under his seat. “Would you be able to check this for me?”

Seungmin furrows his eyebrows - not a good sign, and averts his eyes from the whiteboard to look at your paper, “I can’t help you with that.”

“And why is that?” You question. “You had no trouble looking at everyone else’s. How’s mine any different?”

“Judging from your grades, I’d suspect there would be a lot of differences,” he responds.

“I’ll take that as a compliment since I’m one of the top in the class thank you,” you scoff.

“And one of the top most arrogant too,” Seungmin fires back. “If you haven’t got anything relevant to show me, I suggest you leave. The next tutorial group starts in twenty minutes.”

Your face contorts slightly, “well since this isn’t relevant enough for you, is it possible for you to check over one of the drafts we have to send in on Friday?”

“Can’t do that either-“

“Then what can you do exactly?” You cut him off impatiently. “Seriously, I’ve been trying to ask you for help for the past two weeks and you’ve only ever given me vague answers to my questions and you won’t proofread any of my work which is what you’re here to do.”

Seungmin takes off his glasses and closes the distance between himself and you, “I don’t help out entitled people like you who always demand things.”

You glare up at him, “I’m not entitled. I was just merely commenting about the fact that you don’t do what you’re being paid to do.”

“And you just keep proving my point as to why you are entitled, because you don’t shut up and you always complain. After every tutorial, you come up to me and ask me for something.”

“Yeah, just like everyone else and yet, I don’t see you giving the same shit to them as you do to me,” you argue right back with him.

“That’s because you expect things to be handed to you on a silver plate. Unlike them, you don’t work for your shit with me,” Seungmin responds, placing the cap on the whiteboard marker a little bit too rough.

“Being here is me working for my shit,” you press back. “You’re just being a stubborn ass because you don’t like me.”

“Well you’re right with one thing,” he sighs.

You roll your eyes and scoff, “fuck you honestly.”

It took a lot of effort not to just shove Seungmin out of your way as you headed out the door with a fresh stormy cloud looming over your head. Felix could spot it a mile away when you went to meet up with him for lunch nearby after his class too.

“What’s wrong?” He asks carefully, studying the pained expression on your face.

“Nothing,” you sigh, trying to let it go. “Just one of my stupid tutors.”

“Is this the same one that isn’t doing his job properly?” Felix questions, remembering the conversation you both had about him a while back.

“Bingo.”

“You know, he’s probably dealing with things in the background that you don’t know about,” Felix points out, his habit of always giving people the benefit of the doubt starting to shine through.

“Yeah, pretty sure he’s dealing with ‘absolute fucking dickhead disorder’,” you spit. “And even if he was - even if the worst is happening to him, he has no right to be taking out his anger or frustration on me.”

Felix sports a disappointed look on his face, “is it just you, or are there others?”

“It’s just me, I swear.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Felix assures. “If he really is as bad as you say he is, maybe just ignore him. We’ve only got seven weeks left, that’s not too long until you can get away from him, yeah?”

It was easier said than done, because the next round of tutorials that approached in the following week, opened up that fresh wound of just seeing Seungmin’s face and dreading it. All of Felix’s advice went out the gate, almost like it was never there in the first place.

In the end, you simply chose not to speak. What’s the point in arguing with a person who won’t move?

So right after the tutorial, you don’t bother darting straight to Seungmin and asking for his help. He’s not willing to give it to you so there’s no point in lingering behind. As you pack your things up from the table and start to head out, Seungmin peers at you from behind the glasses that you so badly want to knock off his face sometimes.

He’s not entirely stumped that you haven’t approached him, but he is a bit intrigued. Maybe he had come across too strongly with you the other day - maybe within the past month without being of any help to you at all. Then again, Seungmin isn’t the most apologetic of people.

“Surprised you’re not asking me to check anything for you,” he projects his voice to you just before you leave the class.

You heard him on your way out, but what’s a retaliation going to do? Only add fuel to your own fire. Seungmin isn’t the one who’s got something to lose here. He’s just a student tutor who’s clearly got enough competence to reinforce the learning you receive during lectures. At the end of the day, his grades for this class aren’t on the line. Yours are.

“Y/N,” you hear a voice call out to you, recognising it to be Felix. Caught up in the swirl of your own thoughts, you almost forgot Felix had been waiting for your tutorial to end as he sat in a row of seats against the wall.

“Hey,” you call out to him.

“So, how was it? Did you say anything to him?” He asks as you sit down beside him.

“I just gave up,” you answer. “I forgot that you can’t get your point across to dickheads so I stopped trying. I’ll just go to the other classes' tutorials if they let me switch. Or maybe I can just cross-check my work with their tutor.”

“Geez, that bad is he?”

“The fucking worst,” you confirm.

However, you weren’t surprised to learn that Seungmin’s attitude and behaviour still continued in the following tutorial, close to an essay hand-in date which is what you didn’t need. The only saving grace is that instead of going over the content that you learned in an earlier lecture, Seungmin allowed his students to study for another upcoming in-class test in the upcoming week.

You spent that time wisely working on the essay you needed to hand in since it was the first due. Then, by two o’clock, everyone started wrapping up their study session. You slot your books into your bag, zip it up, and ready to leave.

“You, come here,” Seungmin speaks in your direction, but you really don’t want to listen. At first to begin with, you were surprised he was even talking to you.

“And if I don’t?”

“Don’t be stubborn. I want to talk about your assignment,” he replies. He set his bait and waited for you to take it. So you approach him hesitantly from your chair, leaving your bag behind at the table.

“See, how hard was that?”

You roll your eyes. Not even a full conversation in and he’s already made you reach your limit, “oh go fuck yourself.”

Upon hearing your nasty sentiment, Seungmin’s hand latches quickly onto your wrist, “what did you just say?”

You look down at your arm in disbelief, then back up to him, his eyes narrowing at you, “what?”

“Say it again.”

“I said; ‘go fuck yourself.”

“Fucking brat.”

Without warning, Seungmin’s hands grasp the sides of your arms in a flash, backing you against the wall behind him. Out of nowhere, his mouth comes down and crashes against yours in a bruising kiss. There’s no time to process what’s actually going on when you start kissing him back, allowing his tongue to delve deeper into his mouth.

In the back of your mind, you can’t believe your own actions, but at the same time, pushing back on him also feels like you’re letting some of that frustration go. To take things further, Seungmin breaks away from you for a moment, turning your body by your arms, and backs you straight into the desk until your hips hit the edge.

Your first instinct tells you to lean back while your legs automatically lift so that Seungmin can slot right in, pressing his semi-hard dick against your pussy.

It gives you the opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist, trying to bring him in closer as you hope for more friction. Seungmin pins your wrists down to the desk, kissing along your jaw and down to your throat where he bites and sucks until there’s a line of future regretful hickies for you to deal with later on.

“D-Do something,” you stammer, feeling so dizzy from the pleasure that you desperately start to chase.

“Why should I?” He mumbles into your skin.

You turn your head, watching figures of people pass by through the frosted glass of the door who could potentially walk in at any given time. In saying that, a portion of you recognises that there’s something so naughty about being caught in the act.

“Please Seungmin,” you beg for him, feeding into his ego.

His head rises from your neck, “that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘please’.”

You didn’t care what he meant by that. All you care about is relieving that itch inside the pit of your stomach because you know that horny feeling will take a long time to dissipate. Nonetheless, Seungmin seems to listen to you when he unbuttons the first two buttons of his white dress shirt.

His fingers reach down to your jeans, unzipping them and yanking them right off your legs until you’re just left in your underwear, already soaking through. Seungmin uses the pad of his thumb to brush gently over the fabric which is sticky to the touch. It makes the corner of his mouth tug up.

“Keep quiet if you don’t want people to come in,” he warns before taking his glasses off and placing them to the side of you before kneeling down.

Your chest already starts heaving just feeling his warm breath fan across your inner thighs. The anticipation leading up to it has you clawing at the desk when Seungmin starts removing your underwear.

“Look how fucking wet you are,” he speaks from a stance of astonishment just seeing what he was able to do to you from a simple makeout session and some rough and tumble.

His comment turns you into a flustered mess that is easily shattered when Seungmin moves his mouth closer to your pussy, kissing your inner thigh and inching closer until he reaches your clit. Your back arches in an instant. One hand clasps over your mouth to stifle a loud moan at the heat of Seungmin’s mouth, the other grabs a fistful of his hair and starts tugging. He doesn’t dare hold back; sucking on your clit, lapping up at what he can to make your entire body shudder.

It never occurred to you that Seungmin is like this. You’ve always made him out to be some rich, entitled, arrogant, teacher's pet with good grades and an outstanding reputation when he goes and does shit like this – eating you out in broad daylight, in public.

Whatever rabid spirit took over Seungmin, it wasn’t stopping him. His tongue dances perfect circles and random shapes against your clit, embracing your thighs quivering shamelessly around his head.

“Oh my god, feels…feels so good,” you mutter, using every drop of energy you can to subdue the moans into whimpers.

Not even the hand you’ve been trying to use to cover your mouth is working because when Seungmin keeps building you up to that edge, you increasingly become louder. But that’s all on him for initiating this, not that you’re complaining. Not when your head is just about thrashing back behind you on the wooden surface trying to syphon all the pleasure you’re getting. It’s like rouge electricity, a live wire inside of you that has no chance of being tamed.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum,” you mumble, eyelids already fluttering. “So…good.”

Seungmin heard that as a sign to press his face further into your pussy but kept the same momentum and pace that his tongue uses to make you cum, and when you do, every ounce of pleasure pours into all the cells throughout your body. It rattles you in such a good way, that you forget how hard you’re tugging on Seungmin’s hair as he continues to eat you out through to the very end. But you managed to stay quiet – just.

Your body unstiffens and your chest heaves up and down trying to catch air. The orgasm was so massive that afterwards, you couldn’t figure out what time it was or where you were. It nearly took out every bit of consciousness you had remaining.

“Been wanting to do that for a while,” he rasps.

Whatever that means – not that you can articulate it as of yet. You’re still trying to grapple with reality and when Seungmin unzips his pants to free his cock, you know there’s no point in trying.

He’s big in length and has a sizeable girth. He teases you with his tip, sliding up and down from your now oversensitive clit to your drenched hole. Just feeling how wet you are makes him wonder one thing:

“Are you a virgin?” He asks.

You’re still trying to regain a bit of consciousness, only able to muster a few words at a time, “no...no I’m not.”

“I pinned it down to either that or someone hasn’t touched you in a while,” he responds. You groan at the embarrassment. Seungmin must obviously be that experienced for him to make such an observation.

“The latter. Now just hurry up and fuck me.”

“Shut up,” Seungmin snipes, even though he begins to push his cock inside of you at a terribly slow pace.

You didn’t realise how much you had been aching to have someone inside you. Your own fingers can’t seem to do the right trick of actually feeling full and satisfied. But now that Seungmin is here, slowly thrusting in until he reaches the hilt, can he make you feel that way.

“Jesus fuck,” Seungmin bites down on his lip and has to hold onto the edge of the desk beside your body for support.

He’s never felt anything like it. Even after sleeping with other women prior to you in his past, there’s something about the way you feel that isn’t like the rest. Maybe it’s from the fact that you hadn’t been touched in a while or not, either way, Seungmin can’t contain himself when he starts thrusting properly.

His cock glides in like melted butter, the lewd wet sounds making you want to hide from embarrassment. But Seungmin revels in it like it’s about to slip through his fingers like sand. So he lowers his body onto yours, resting some of his weight comfortably on you. It’s intimate yes, but it enables Seungmin to start whispering things in your ear.

“So fucking wet for me, aren’t you?” He purrs. “Such a good girl for taking all of my cock, especially for someone who hasn’t been touched in a while. Just opened up for me so easily.”

No words could ever spring to your mind in response to that, but it causes your body and mind to have a reaction you’re all too familiar with from about five minutes ago. That tingly feeling starts creeping up inside you the longer Seungmin keeps fucking you. His cock repetitively hits such a deep sweet spot that you don’t think anyone’s ever reached before.

“S-Seungmin…it feels…fuck it feels so good,” you moan right in his ear, your arms clinging to his back.

“Yeah?” He chuckles. “I bet it does with the way that you’re clenching around me.”

Seungmin just keeps finding ways to unintentionally embarrass you, but if there’s one thing that he’s learnt about you and himself, it’s that he likes seeing you so flustered. He thinks it’s cute. In saying that, he doesn’t want to get too caught up in things when the euphoria that has already built itself impossibly high starts making itself known.

Just like you, Seungmin feels too good right now. He’s doused in warmth from the heat wrapping around his cock and the way that your walls keep involuntarily clamping around him.

“S’too much…” you gasp for air, fingers digging into his clothed arms at this point. “M’gonna cum again please.”

Seungmin presses himself up away from your body but still thrusting at his same pace, “go on then. I want to see your face when you do.”

It washes over you quickly and he’s fast to clock onto the small reactions beginning to change. The only thing that doesn’t alter is the fucked-out look you have on your face. That remains all the way up until the bliss starts packing its punch. Seungmin’s hips don’t hamper your orgasm, not when he watches your eyes roll back and sees the words to describe how you’re feeling become lodged in your throat.

“Y-Yes!” you call out, your voice echoing throughout the empty classroom. Your wet walls convulse around Seungmin’s cock, clutching onto him for dear life as you cum hard.

“I suppose that’s why you cum so easily, huh?” He asks, catching his breath. “Because nobody’s been touching you? Poor thing.”

Your cheeks burn a bright red as Seungmin continues to fuck you, right up until he’s had his fill. Regardless of how overstimulated you are, he can’t stop because he’s nearly there. His hips stutter forward a few times as he chases the tail of his orgasm, getting hit with it right at the last second.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he lowers his head, watching where his cock keeps disappearing into and listening to your whimpers. It’s all enough to tip him right over the edge and into a pool of warm euphoria. “Yes – fuck!”

With a few more grunts and thrusts, Seungmin slows right down as he cums inside you. For a split second there, his vision started to go splotchy. It reminded him of the fact that he hasn’t cum that hard in a while. In saying that, you get to bask in the warm sensation that fills your lower half.

“Shit,” he gasps, breathing heavily. In the back of his mind, something told him that he shouldn’t have done that. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you swallow, trying to dampen your dry throat. “You’re lucky I’m into that.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle and for the first time, you’ve actually seen Seungmin genuinely smile.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I kind of want to make a part 2 to this but reader finds out that she’s pregnant lmao

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #bang chan smut #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #bang chan x reader #felix x reader #hyunjin x reader #i.n x reader #lee know x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin x reader #changbin x reader #han jisung x reader

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slut4thebroken · 3 months

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Doctor’s Orders

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x patient!reader

Summary | Jonathan Crane wears a weak dose of fear toxin as cologne to his appointments just to put his patients on edge. He’s particularly fond of how you react to it though.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, manipulation, inappropriate use of fear toxin, obvi, very dubious consent, painful sex, fearplay, HEAVY breeding kink, forced breeding, technically housewife kink?, overstimulation, abuse of power?, ionno lol.

Words | 3.3 k

Notes | Based on this post. Credit to @lasagnebats for the idea. (Lowkey the plot kind of deviated from the whole fear cologne thing tbh but it’s still very relevant so whatever lmao)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

It’s not mentioned in the actual story but it’s very important for the plot so incase you didn’t read the summary I’m going to say it again lol. He wears a weak dose of fear toxin as his cologne.

“How are you feeling today?” He asked as he walked in and sat down across from you, putting his briefcase at his feet.

“Better.” You said with a small smile. After only a moment though, your heart started beating harder and faster, and your breathing picked up. You swallowed thickly and cleared your throat before adding, “I- I think.”

“You think?” His voice sent a shiver through your body. You weren’t sure if he was purposely trying to sound threatening, but that’s how you heard it.

“I…” You couldn’t look at him as your stomach started churning.

“Please look at me when I'm talking to you.” He sighed, making your gaze snap back to him. “We won’t get anywhere if you continue to overreact to even the simplest questions.”

“I know— I know. I’m sorry.” You started bouncing your leg incessantly, trying to get rid of some of the nerves you were feeling. “H-how are you?” You asked in return to his original question.

“Always so polite.” He said with an amused smile. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know… That’s just how I was raised I guess.” You shrugged, not having a better answer for him.

“It has nothing to do with how terrified you are of upsetting me?” He asked curiously, tilting his head as he looked you up and down.

“I- I’m not…” You cleared your throat and wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. “I was just… taught to respect people with more authority than me.” You said nervously. But it was true. You were always taught to show respect to people above you no matter what, especially if they were older than you.

“I see. And you feel I have power over you right now?”

“Yes.” You said quietly. Doesn’t he always?

“Well I don’t want you to fear me. These sessions are pointless if you can’t be completely open and honest with me.” You looked away from him again and swallowed the lump in your throat. “I promise you, nothing you say will upset me. I just want you to be truthful with me… So I can help you to the best of my ability. Do you understand?”

“Yes..”

“Good.” He paused, seemingly coming up with the next topic of conversation. “You’re still having nightmares?” Your blood ran cold and your heart was almost starting to hurt with how hard it was beating. And all just because of a reminder of it.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“The same ones? Or something different.”

“The same… But I noticed that they tend to happen more after our sessions than on days where I don’t see you…”

“Yes, that’d make sense. Since we talk about it, it’s only natural your brain would be thinking about it more.”

“Right. Yeah— You’re right.” You said through a breath.

“May I see your hand?” He suddenly asked, making you stiffen.

“What?”

“Your hand.” He held out his own, waiting for you to place yours on top. With a shaky breath, you wiped your hand on your pants again, then placed it on his open palm. He turned it over so your palm was against his, then let out a quiet hum. Before you could ask what that meant, he grabbed your wrist and held your hand up, watching it tremble. He released you and you placed it back in your lap.

“Why are you so scared?”

“It… it's probably just because I started thinking about the nightmares.” That was the only explanation that made sense. It’s not like you’d be scared for no reason.

“Really? What were you thinking about?” You froze and looked away from him, trying to recall, but you never actually thought about them, more so just… remembered them.

“I… I’m not sure.” You said absentmindedly, still trying to figure it out. He sighed quietly and took off his glasses, examining you closely.

“I like to think that we’ve grown a bit closer since our first session. Wouldn’t you?” All you could do was nod wordlessly. “Almost like we’re more than just doctor and patient… Do you feel that way as well?”

“I- I think so.” You said quietly. It was hard to tell right now.

“Which is why I think we can try something that might work better for you.” He stood up and dragged his chair around the table, the loud screeching sound making you flinch. He sat down next to you and you waited nervously for what was next.

“I think… if your brain is half focused on something else— something pleasurable…” he placed his hand on your thigh and leaned closer to you, “then you might be able to talk freely about what’s troubling you. What do you think?” Your chest was heaving as you stared at him with wide eyes, not able to respond. It felt like your throat was closing up and the speed at which your heart was beating made it feel like his hand was on your chest instead of your thigh, pushing down as hard as he could.

“Is something wrong?” He asked once he noticed your reaction.

“I-” You choked out, not able to say anything else.

“Hm?” He waited, giving you a chance to respond. When you didn’t, he sighed. “As your doctor, if you’re in a state that leaves you unable to think or communicate clearly, it is my responsibility to do what I think is best.” His hand started snaking up your thigh, moving toward the center as it climbed higher. His touch was burning a trail on your skin and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

“Just relax. You want to actually make some progress, don’t you?” You gave him the tiniest nod, unable to do anything else. “Good girl. If you can control your emotions, then we can talk like civilized people, but for now, we’re going to have to try this.” You weren't even sure what exactly was making you feel this way, but you trusted Dr. Crane. He would only do what’s best for you.

“Take off your pants.” He suddenly ordered, making your body go completely rigid. “I won’t repeat myself.” He warned and you immediately scrambled to take them off. Once they were on the floor, he grabbed your hips and guided you so that you were straddling his thighs, sitting on his lap. “Now, this might be a bit overwhelming for you, so I don’t mind if you need to keep your face buried against my chest or neck. Like this,” he gently grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into him, “see?”

“Thank you.” You whispered, bringing your hands up the grab at his suit jacket. It felt like your entire body was trembling now. “Dr. Crane, I- I don’t feel very good.”

“Shh. Your body’s just excited. That’s why your heart is racing and your breathing is shallow.” He explained calmly. You’ve never felt this ‘excited’ before in your life. “Are you going to let me do my job now?” You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck to comfort yourself. “Thank you.” His hands started dragging up and down your thighs, just getting you used to his touch, but all it was doing was making you more anxious. His fingertips felt like claws on your hypersensitive body, but when you looked down, you saw no marks left behind.

“I know you’re excited but you need to try and calm down.” He said calmly. “Take a deep breath through your nose, then out through your mouth.” You complied, though it wasn’t nearly as slow as he actually wanted. But it was an improvement. “Again. Deeper.” You inhaled again, trying to let the smell and warmth of his body soothe you. But it was like the deep breaths were making everything worse.

“Dr. Crane, it’s not— I…” He sighed and your stomach churned when you realized he was disappointed in you. “No- I’m sorry. I’ll try again. I’ll keep trying.” You rushed out, taking more deep breaths.

“That’s a good girl. Nice and slow.” His hands snaked up your thighs to your hips, then up the sides of your body, under your shirt.

“W-what are you doing?” You choked out, when he dragged his hands up even more until he was touching your breasts.

“Just feeling your heartbeat.” He explained. You gasped when he gently squeezed your breasts, groping them in a way that made your entire body feel hot.

“Dr. Crane?” You whimpered and he shushed you. So you clung to his suit jacket and buried your face into the crook of his neck even more, seeking comfort.

“I’ll need to remove your shirt. It’s obstructing my examination.” You hesitantly agreed and he pulled it over your head, then guided you back into the same position, now only in a pair of panties. “Deep breaths.” He reminded you as he continued. He only groped you for a few seconds before focusing his attention on your nipples. You let out a strangled moan when he gently pinched, rolling them between his fingers. You’ve never been overly sensitive there before, but right now, just the barest touch sent a shock through your body.

“Your heart is racing.” He commented, flattening his hands on your chest and sliding them down your stomach. He reached your hips and gripped them tightly, then pulled them forward to grind your clothed heat on his bulge. You gasped at the sudden movement and when you felt the obvious sign of his arousal.

“When’s the last time you’ve been fucked?” His tone remained the same; clinical, unemotional. It took you a moment to register his question, but once you did, a blush took over your face. “You’ve been a patient here for a few months now so I’m assuming at least a few months ago?” All the work you did to calm your breathing was gone in an instant. Words couldn’t form in your mouth, so you just nodded against his chest. “How long before that?”

“I… I don’t remember.” You choked out, finally able to speak.

“Poor thing. It’s been that long since you’ve been filled?” He cooed with faux sympathy.

“Dr. Crane.” You sobbed, fisting his suit even tighter to ground yourself. He was still guiding your hips and you started to feel arousal pooling in your stomach.

“Is that why you’re not making any progress? Your cunt’s been craving a cock so bad, you can’t even think?” You whined and started moving your hips on your own now, desperate for more. “Yeah I think that is the reason. You’re in your prime child bearing years, it’s only natural you’d be longing to breed.” You let out a strangled moan, feeling both humiliated and aroused by his words. “A few more sessions like this and you might actually be able to use that pretty little head of yours again.”

“Please,” You whined, tears of desperation brimming in your eyes. Your heart was still pounding and your breathing was still shallow, but it started feeling different. Before, you weren’t sure what the cause was, but now you know it’s arousal. At least it mostly is. He suddenly gripped your chin and pulled your head so your face was only inches from his. As his eyes trailed all over your face, taking you in, he hummed in thought, still staring at you with his piercing gaze.

“Misattribution of arousal truly is a fascinating subject.” He smiled. You had no idea what that meant. “Take off your underwear.” He suddenly ordered, making your eyes widen. When he stared at you, giving you a warning gaze, you scrambled off his lap to remove them. He started unbuckling his belt, then opening his pants. When he took out his cock, your breath caught in your throat. Where is that supposed to fit?

“Sit.” You tentatively got on his lap again. He sat back in the metal chair a little, dragging his eyes down your body. “Put it in.” You swallowed and looked between his face and his length, feeling your heart start pounding even harder. “Now.” Biting your trembling lip, you grabbed his cock and put it at the right angle, then slowly and apprehensively lowered yourself onto it. You whimpered when he first breached your opening, immediately feeling the burn of the stretch.

“You won’t like it if I have to take over so I suggest you do better than this.” He warned and you whined in response, but forced yourself down lower.

“It hurts, Dr. Crane.” You whimpered, hoping for sympathy from the cold, apathetic doctor.

“Enough.” He growled, grabbing your hips and lifting you off of him. He stood and spun you around to push your torso onto the cold metal table with a hand on the back of your neck. Holding you down firmly, he pushed his cock back in, this time going all the way. You cried out and scrambled for purchase on the table as he immediately started thrusting.

“W-wait, Dr. Crane..” You choked out, the burning stretch bringing tears to your eyes. Not bothering with replying, he removed the hand from your neck and you heard clothes rustling, then he was putting his tie between your lips and wrapping it around your head to secure it. Almost instantly those feelings flared up again. Your chest heaved as you panted, trying to ignore how much it was hurting from your heart beating so fast and hard.

He put his hand on your head this time, forcing your cheek onto the cold metal as he held you down and started moving faster. You sobbed out a moan and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on calming down but everything was just so much.

“Is this what you needed? Have you been playing the role of the dumb little patient this whole time just to get me to fuck you?” You tried to shake your head, but you couldn’t move it under his hand. “I can feel you pulsing around my cock. Is it really that good?” The way he was mocking you had you squeezing your thighs together, but he couldn’t have that. He lifted one of your legs and placed it on the table, keeping you from getting any real stimulation on your clit besides his balls smacking against it with every thrust.

“Please!” You cried, the word being muffled by the tie.

“I know. You’re probably so eager to come right now, aren’t you?” You did your best to nod, despite him holding you down. “Is the thought of finally getting bred making you all needy?” He asked condescendingly and you let out a strangled whimper. “Should I let you come on my cock?”

“Yes!” You yelled, trying to make it sound coherent through the gag. He released your head and grabbed your shoulders, starting a brutal pace that made you almost scream from the intensity. The table was screeching against the floor with each thrust and you could start to hear his quiet grunts as he neared his orgasm.

“Go ahead then. Show me how needy this pathetic little cunt is for my cock.” He said and, despite the degrading words, you almost cried in relief. You’ve only made yourself come maybe a handful of times since being admitted to Arkham, so it did not take much longer for you to get there. You all but screamed around the gag when it hit you, making your legs turn to jelly. His thrusts didn’t even waiver, but you could hear groans coming from him. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through you, so intense that it bordered on painful.

When it was finally done, you sagged into the table, but your body immediately went stiff when the overstimulation kicked in. You cried out and squirmed, trying to escape it, so he grabbed your hair and yanked you up, wrapping his other arm around your stomach.

“I know.” He pulled your head back until it was resting on his shoulder, then turned it so your face was up against his neck. “Just breathe through it.” But you couldn’t. Everything was just too much. You sobbed loudly and buried your face in the crook of his neck as he fucked you, moving both hands down to grab your hips.

“Just be a good girl and take it. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be fucked and bred like a bitch in heat.” You let out a strangled sob at the degrading words. “No… It’s what you needed.” He growled, making you whimper. “Don’t worry, we’re going to keep doing this until I finally fuck a baby into you. Maybe then you’ll be less cock hungry. But we’ll probably have to keep this up while you’re pregnant because of all the hormones.” After your orgasm, everything your body was going through started to feel like it was from fear again, rather than arousal. His words were making you spiral into overthinking. You can’t have a baby yet— you’re too young. And also there’s the fact that you’re in an asylum…

“And I think… I might make you my little lab rat. You respond so well to such a small dose, I’m eager to see how you’ll react to something more potent.” Now you were truly confused, but you were also too fucked out and overstimulated to try and understand. “God— that’ll be a fucking sight.” He choked out, rutting into you more frantically. Tears started streaming down your cheeks as he kept fucking you, getting more painful with every thrust. But based on the way his sounds kept getting louder, you knew it’d be over any second now.

You cried out when he roughly snapped his hips into you and stayed there, wrapping his arms around your torso to keep you close and letting out a low groan. His hips bucked forward with every spurt of come that left his cock, despite the fact that he was already completely inside, pressed up against your cervix uncomfortably. Even after his orgasm ended, he remained buried inside you, keeping you plugged up for now.

“That’s better, isn’t it? Now you’re nice and full.” He spoke softly, turning his head to kiss your neck as his hand rubbed over your lower stomach. “Mm… I can’t wait to see your belly all big and round— your tits swollen with milk. You’re going to look so beautiful.” Even though everything calmed down, you still felt anxious and scared. “And I’m sure once that kid is out, you’ll go back to being a brainless little bitch in heat so I’ll have to fuck another one into you.” You let out a weak sound, unable to do anything else. Your whole body was shaking. With how you were currently feeling, his words sounded like a threat.

“Still can’t use that pretty head?” He asked curiously. You didn’t answer, but it didn’t seem like he expected you to. “You must need more, then.” You whined at the thought. He gently pushed your torso back onto the table and you hissed in pain when he dragged his cock out. When his come trickled out, he cursed under his breath. Using his thumbs, he spread your puffy, abused folds, giving him a better view of your gaping hole. You flinched when he used his fingers to scoop up his come and push it back in. “Lucky for you, I cleared the rest of my schedule today just for this session, so I can keep giving you load after load until you drain my balls completely. Maybe then you’ll actually be able to fucking think.”

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @theoraekenslover @kaorisakamotofan @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @cillianscrybaby @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie.pooh @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @milkytomura @bigbossbabysworld @bluujaiwrites @crunchsworld @jayroytodd @harleyql @lokabrenna0801

#jonathan crane x reader smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #arkham asylum #patient!reader

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c0mbatchameleon · 2 months

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@jegulus-microfic March 12, prompt: retire, words: 953

Aka optometrist reg au (part 1? maybe) loosely based off of this post

James is having trouble breathing.

The problem is, he can’t quite remember how to do it right now. His brain, rather impressively, emptied of all of its contents the moment the optometrist opened the door.

Right off the bat, the man had been straight to business; swift stride into the room, eyes glued to the clipboard in hand, a curt “hello” and introduction before he sat down and uncapped a pen with his goddamn teeth. James could only stare dumbly, mouth agape as he stumbled over half-sentient responses to the all routine eye exam questions (“See okay with your current prescription?” A black curl falling over the doctor’s otherwise perfectly framed face, cheekbones carved by the sea, like stones.

“Uh huh.”

“Taking any current medications?” Beautiful silver-blade eyes meeting his expectantly.

“Uh-“ James coughing and clearing his throat, “no. No medications.”)

Now, he's at least regained his ability to form sentences. But as James watches the doctor fiddling with machinery, silver rings glinting in harsh, sterile lighting, he is finding immense difficulty in breathing like a normal human being.

“So,” James begins, leaning to rest his elbow on the table and swelling his chest ever-so-slightly. He does his best to smooth out his voice as he speaks, going for casual with just a sprinkling of something sultry. “Dr. Black, did you say it was?” He may not be able to fully function but God help him if he can’t still flirt.

The doctor's eyes flick up for only a split second, but James counts it as a win. “That’s correct.” He maneuvers what looks like an avant-garde torture contraption towards where James is sitting. “Rest your chin on the platform.”

James does as he’s told, holding back from an absurd urge to respond with a Yes, sir. He's definitely not conjuring a medley of alternate scenarios in his head in which Dr. Black orders him around. “And what might your first name be?”

“It might be of no relevance to the matter at hand, Mr. Potter.”

“Call me James, please.”

Regulus sits on the other side of the torture-machine and begins turning dials. “You should see a red X on the right side, James,” he replies flatly. Still, the sound of his name on the man’s tongue is fucking intoxicating. It's echoing around his skull--James James James JamesJamesJames--he wants to hear it a million more times, every minute of every day until his last.

James usually hates these appointments. Hates the big machines he has to stick his face in, blowing air and shining bright lights in his eyes. Hates that stupid picture of the house that they make him look at a million times over while some old man who looks just about ready to retire asks “One or two?”

But Dr. Black is not some old man.

He’s new—James has been coming here for years and has certainly never been graced with the sight of this angel-fallen-to-earth before. He's young, too; despite the way he carries the poise of a man with years of experience under his belt, cool and confident and collected, there’s no way Dr. Black is old enough to be more than a couple years out of school. All sharp edges and smooth skin.

And god, his skin. It looks impossibly soft, stretched over slender hands and freckled cheeks, strong nose and cut jaw. As James runs his eyes hungrily over the landscapes of peach-pale skin--hills and valleys spanning the doctor's face and neck and fingers and knuckles--he considers how easy it would be to reach out and touch it, find out for himself if it's really as smooth as it looks.

“James,” Dr. Black's voice cuts sharp through his fantasy, one brow raised where he's clearly caught James drooling over him. “Please look into the eyepiece.”

It’s not like James can help it. He’s a bit entranced by the way the doctor maintains such a stoic expression, posture rigid and cold eyes unwavering, especially now. It’s all the beauty of a pointed blade, glittering in the sunlight, begging to draw blood.

But James doesn’t miss the light blush now in full bloom across the man’s cheeks. Silver-clad fingers have begun tapping a sporadic pattern on the table as storm cloud eyes sweep down and back up James' face, quick as a flash of lightning, and isn’t that just curious? Suddenly, James wants to know what it would take to get that stone-cold cast to crack.

He shoots back a sly grin. “Sure thing, nameless doctor.” He looks into the contraption. “Oh would you look at that. A red X.”

The doctor lets out a muted sigh. He fidgets some more with the dials and buttons on the other side of the machine as James watches the X shift in and out of focus. He breaks the silence only when it's stretched for just a moment too long. “My name is Regulus. There’s gonna be a bright flash now.”

Immediately, a blinding white light flashes directly into his eye, burning a goddamn hole into his field of vision. He swears he can see the inside of his pupil for a moment.

But James doesn't care. Once the shock subsides, he finds himself grinning ear-to-ear.

Now we're getting somewhere.

He looks back up from the eyepiece to where the doctor, Regulus, is still intently focused on the computer and equipment. Evading James' gaze. Cheeks still pink.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regulus.”

#I can’t get them out of my head #so here’s a small little thing #didn’t even rlly finish the scene so might continue it some time #laughing at james trying to puff out his chest and strike a pose at this eye exam #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #starchaser #jegulus microfic #james potter x regulus black #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus fic #sunseeker #marauders #james x regulus #writing stuff and things #microfic tag

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sukuna-dees-nuts · 3 months

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@nessieartss i did it again lol

based on this ask and this ask because i couldn't get "rizzless sukuna" out of my head 😭 (and also Maki being one of Sukuna's friends is relevant which is why i tagged that ask)

anyway, please enjoy!!

Edit: part 2!!

---

Sukuna can’t keep the scowl off his face as he watches Yuuji from across the courtyard. He watches as his little brother effortlessly jokes with his friends, his face and movements animated enough that they’re clear even from so far away. Yuuji has always been the more charismatic of the two brothers; always the one to make friends first.

Yuuji throws his head back in laughter, casually throwing his arm around Megumi’s shoulders. Sukuna feels a twinge of jealousy in his gut and he can’t stop the grunt that escapes his throat.

How ridiculous is he? Getting jealous over nothing. It’s laughable. Sukuna doesn’t get jealous!

Except… the more he watches his little brother interact with Megumi, the more he finds himself wishing that he could hang out with Megumi—

“Oh fuck me,” he groans, rubbing his hands over his face.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Sukuna looks up. Maki takes a seat next to him on the steps, a meticulous brow arched in intrigue. He’s quiet for a moment as he rests his elbows on his knees. While he considers Maki to be one of his closest (and one of his only) friends, Sukuna briefly contemplates brushing his inner turmoil aside. This is her cousin, after all. Would she really want to hear about Sukuna’s stupid crush that he barely acknowledges himself?

Ah, fuck it, he thinks and sits up straighter.

“How do you ask someone out?”

Maki blinks, taken aback by the question. She holds Sukuna’s gaze as if trying to gauge whether or not he’s being serious. Her mouth presses into a thin line.

“Depends on who you’re wanting to ask out,” she responds with a casual shrug. As she reaches up to fix her ponytail, she asks, “Are you saying that you’ve never asked anyone out before?”

Sukuna sniffs and says nothing, running his tongue over his teeth. His attention turns to his nails, examining them for any chips in the nail polish.

“It’s never been relevant before,” Sukuna grumbles. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Maki shift. She nods slowly with a hum of acknowledgement.

“So, who is it?” Maki asks.

“Huh?”

“The person you want to ask out, who is it?” she asks again.

This time, Sukuna hesitates to answer. He’s never been one to be ashamed of his preferences; he always makes his thoughts clear whether it shows on his face or in his words. Like the time when Sukuna argued that the Star Wars franchise was “extremely overrated” and Yuuji nearly had a heart attack (he still hasn’t let it go).

Finally, with a sigh, Sukuna answers in another grumble, “Fushiguro.”

The silence that stretches out between them is loud. Sukuna thinks for a moment that Maki might have gotten up and left. When he looks to the side, he finds that she’s still sitting there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He fully expects her to start laughing at him, but, she doesn’t.

Maki continues staring at Sukuna until he narrows his eyes at her, opening his mouth to tell her to just forget about it and fuck off—

“Oh, you’re actually serious,” she huffs. “For a moment I thought you were pulling my leg.”

Sukuna feels his irritation ebb and he rolls his eyes. “Why the hell would I make a joke like that? There are other things I could use to bully you with. Like your stupid glasses. They don’t fit your face.”

Ignoring the comment, Maki goes on, “Fushiguro isn’t one for extravagance. If you really want to ask him out, you should pull him off to the side and ask him privately. He’d appreciate that.” The bell rings, signaling that it’s time for the next class. Maki and Sukuna get to their feet.

“Also, it would do you well to work on your tactfulness,” the girl adds over her shoulder as she begins to walk away.

Sukuna flips her off. “Fuck you. I’m not asking you for advice anymore.”

He watches as his friend heads back inside before turning his attention back to Megumi who is walking in the opposite direction of his two friends. Sukuna runs a hand through his hair, exhaling a long breath.

It’s another few seconds of watching Megumi walk before Sukuna’s feet start moving, carrying him in the same direction and he mentally curses at himself again.

Fuck it. Let’s do this.

#jjk #jjk sibling au #yuji itadori #sukuna #maki zenin #megumi fushiguro #sukufushi #echo writes #rizzless sukuna #i didn't know that i needed this in my life but here it is #dont worry tho maki is there to help him #kinda lmaoo

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godisshook · 4 months

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New Year, New Me

Adam needed a change. Life for him had been dull, with each day feeling monotonous. He couldn’t stand it, entirely dissatisfied with school, he had all but given up on his studies by now. If his apathy towards school wasn’t already making things bad, his dating prospects made things miserable. Despite doing everything in his power to put himself out there, he simply never had any romantic success. As he celebrated the new year with his friends, the one thing making his life worthwhile, he silently wished for some way to change things, to make his life better. With the ball dropping and the new year starting, he returned home, not knowing that his wishes would be answered in the most unexpected way.

It was a quiet day on campus, with most people returning home for the new year. Adam didn’t particularly care about going back, and so stayed in his dorm with his roommate, Blake. Returning home from the store, Adam opened the door, and was met with a guy he had never seen before. Noticing Adam’s worry, the unknown guy spoke, “Hey Adam, it’s Blake!” Adam’s eyes widened. He had changed his entire look, going from a quiet, unassuming guy, to one of the strongest guys Adam knew of. Inquiring on this sudden change, Blake bluntly replied, “It’s this app called ResetR, It’s fucking crazy man!”

Curiosity would get the best of Adam, as he ventured to the App Store to find this seemingly magical program. Upon finding the page for ResetR, he quickly downloaded it, hoping this would be the change he so desperately needed. He zoomed through terms and conditions, not caring about the various warnings, ana made it to the main page, where he was met with a set of questions.

>Would you like to start? Yes. >Please answer each question on a scale of "Strongly Disagree" to "Strongly Agree." Ensure all answers are as honest as possible.

While going through the questions, Adam became more and more bored, as he failed to see the relevance of the app asking about his eating habits, and thus, before making it to the most vital questions, he closed the app, opened twitter, and simply scrolled the night away.

That would not be his last experience with ResetR, however, as soon more and more people in his life would change; some simply becoming taller, while others seemed to have a full makeover. Knowing the source of these changes, and with his dating life still abysmal, Adam decided to give it one more go. Luckily for him, the process was about to become much easier. He noticed the app had undergone a major update; allowing you to scroll through preset profiles, rather than simply filling out a form. Not only that, but he could change aspects of his current self, instead of simply becoming a new person.

Now, the starting screen presented two choices:

>I would like to change my current self >I would like to view profiles, and perform a reset

Adam wanted to venture into what this new update had to offer, and selected the second option. A few sliders were presented, such as muscle, and level of success, and after setting each bar to his liking, Adam hit confirm, and was presented with a slew of new bodies he could inhabit. He swiped through profile after profile, with none of them particularly catching his interest. Getting sick of the process once more, he would almost give up, until one profile would stop him dead in his tracks.

Danny, 22 Profile Features: Career: Model, Height: 6’3, Weight: 205 lbs, Personality: Cocky, Domineering, Self-Centered

Adam was completely enamored with this profile. Danny had everything Adam wanted, and then some. While his personality left some to be desired, it was a sacrifice he would be willing to make. Looking over everything one final time, Adam knew that this was what he wanted. He clicked the big green “Confirm” button, and was presented with even more waivers and forms, which he breezed through again, tweaking small aspects until he had the perfect profile.

Now came the decision of how long to maintain this. He could select it for a small period of time to see how things went, like many of his friends did, or, making his reset permanent. Mulling over his choices, dam reflected on his experiences. His life was entirely uninteresting, always being a wingman, and never having any luck in dating himself. There wasn’t many things in his life he would miss if he decided to reset. He then thought about his friends. They had all changed back by now, with the novelty of the app over for them. Those who had changed aspects of themselves chose to keep it, but most didn’t want to change everything. Noticing the option to stay within the area, Adam mulled over it, thinking that he would remember Blake no matter what.

Soon, his choice was made.

Adam chose to stay in the area, and just in case, he drafted and sent one final text to Blake, his closest friend, simply saying, “Thank you for everything, hope to see you again.” With the text sent, and without a second thought, he selected a permanent reset, and clicked “Confirm” one final time.

Any regret Danny might have had about his decision would be gone in just a few weeks, as he made new friends, and had guys lining up to be with him. His promiscuous attitude was perfect, as he was dicking guys down left and right, without a care in the world. With the change setting in, his old friends became replaced with new ones, and the old Adam was no more. Danny had come across a shaggy haired guy on campus in one of his communications classes, who introduced himself as Blake. While the name sounded familiar, he simply could not remember from where. Nevertheless, he set his sights on him, and got Blake in bed, making him straddle his massive cock, and take load after load.

The two soon were fucking every day, as Blake poured his heart out to Danny, talking about an old friend of his, who he had assumed left town. Danny shrugged at this, and continued pounding Blake out, and as time passed, even he would forget about his old friend. With the month over, and changes setting in completely, any trace of Adam was now gone, and his new life had truly begun. As Danny admired himself in the mirror, he knew he was going to enjoy this new life, with his new fuck buddy, and live it to the fullest.

#ResetR #male body swap #male transformation #swapping #muscle jock #muscle hunk

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sinofwriting · 6 months

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Figlia Mia - Charles Leclerc

Words: 6,231 Summary: When she had met Charles Leclerc for the first time in 2017, she watched as her grandfather gave him the impossible task of restoring Ferrari’s greatness and her the task of making sure he does so. Note(s): This was a lot of fun to write. I got to do a lot of digging into Ferrari’s history in motorsports and F1, and make sure that the changes I made to the history of Ferrari made some sense. I also got to reignite my love for stats and things. I spent a lot of time looking at different circuit stats (which will be relevant in the second part of this fic) and just driver stats. Used a translator for the Italian but not google translate. Also, I shouldn’t have to say this but: How I write the drivers in these fics is not based on my feelings for them, it is just what I need them to be. So, please don’t send me hate because your favorite driver says or acts or is regarded in a certain way. Thanks! Hope you like this!

Taglist | Masterlist | Part Two | Patreon

Figlia mia - my daughter stella - star

2017

She eyes her grandfather wearily. He had called her home early from her classes and she had rushed home to Maranello.

“Nonno, what is the matter?” His gaze turns to her and he smiles, the solemn look on his face gone as he sees her. “My stella. You are back home.” His accent is thick as it wraps around the English words, always willing to indulge her. She sighs, leaning down to hug him. “You called me back. Did something happen?” He shakes his head, patting her hand when she straightens. “No, I have a meeting that I want you to attend with me.” She frowns. “It is late in the season for a meeting. Did Vettel or Räikkönen break contract?” “No. It’s for the team, but more of a future prospect.” Her frown deepens. “If it’s Hamilton, he won’t leave Mercedes and you shouldn’t entertain him, Nonno. You only have so much energy.” “I don’t want to take him from Mercedes. He wouldn’t be able to win with us anyways.” He groans as he thinks of how long it’s been since his team has won, and has achieved the greatness they are supposed to. “I just want your opinion, they should be here any minute.”

An uneasiness sits heavy in her stomach at how cryptic he’s being with her, something he never is, but she sits in the chair beside him. Taking his hand in both of hers and breathing a sigh of relief at the strongness still in his hands, no shakiness to be found. He was in good health, she reminded herself as they waited. He hadn’t even had a cold for three years, but still her mind worries.

“Mr. Enzo, Stella, your guests have arrived.” Anita’s voice says through the intercom. He presses the button to talk. “Please have Andrea get them and bring them back and tell him to stay as well.” “Andrea is here?” He hums, “I asked him to come. I have an idea.” She doesn’t say anything else to that and keeps quiet as she waits for whoever to arrive.

There’s a slight relief in it not being either Vettel or Räikkönen, she wasn’t keen to meet them for the first time right now, not when she had rushed home. She also didn’t want her grandfather meeting them now for the first time, so late in the year where he could catch an illness.

A knock sounds on the wooden door and she turns her head to look at it. Releasing her grandfather's hand from hers and moving to stand behind his chair. Her normal position in such meetings.

“Enter.” He calls and the door opens. “Signor.” Andrea greets, as he steps into the room, two, or rather one man and one boy following behind him with wide eyes. “I have your guests.” “Please sit, the three of you.” He tells them and they all quickly do.

Her eyes narrow as she recognises the familiar face of the man who is currently running the Ferrari Driver Academy and the just familiar face of the current F2 champion. The sight makes her want to lean down, to question why a F2 driver of all people is being allowed to meet her grandfather. A luxury he hasn’t afforded a single F1 driver since her father died other than Michael Schumacher. And even then he had won a championship first with them. But such a thing isn’t not her place, especially in front of guests, so she keeps quiet as her grandfather does as well, clearly waiting them out, letting the tension in the room build.

“Charles Leclerc.” Her grandfather says and the boy practically jumps. “You started winning in karting before you were even ten in 2005 and never stopped. A second place in Alps, then fourth in the European F3.” She watches as he winces at the reminder of what he clearly views as failures. “But you won your first year of GP3 and now have won F2. Truly impressive.” His eyes are still wide and they dart to the left before returning. “Thank you, Signor.” Her eyebrows raise at the way the Italian term leaves his mouth. He clearly had invested time in his Italian lessons. “Don’t thank me. You’ve done well for yourself. And now you have an F1 seat.” Her eyes darted to Andrea, “Nonno.” She hisses, stepping forward. “Andrea has signed the appropriate NDA’s and contracts, stella. There is no need for your worry.” This meeting seemed to be nothing but worrying for her. And suddenly the employment contract she had seen in her inbox for Andrea makes all the sense, especially since it had been sent to her directly, not cc'd.

“You will be joining Sauber this coming season. Are you ready?” “I hope and believe I am.” “And you have a team? A trainer, your own PR manager? A assistant?” Charles shakes his head, cheeks red. “I’m afraid not. I only signed the contract two days ago. I haven’t made arrangements.” “And your plans for the 2019 season? Still at Sauber?” “I only signed a one year contract with them. So I hope to stay with them if I can.” He hums and the tone if it tells her everything she needs to know and it takes everything in her to not show the horror she’s feeling. “There will be a spot open at Ferrari for the 2019 season. Show me you can handle an F1 car and perhaps it will be yours.” The three sitting opposite stare at him with wide eyes and Charles’ mouth is open, jaw dropped. “And Andrea will be your trainer. I have a good feeling about you Charles Leclerc, prove me right.” He then nods his head towards the door and the three scramble to stand and leave with rushed goodbyes.

She stands behind him for a moment before walking around the desk and flopping down in one of the seats.

“That boy is going to get destroyed.” “He is a boy to me. Barely a year younger than you, I believe.” She scoffs, “please, nonno. You have just put the biggest weight on his shoulders. Prove to me? And what if he speaks of this? Of getting to meet the great Enzo Ferrari when the man doesn’t leave his house and hasn’t met any drivers or even team principals in person since Schumacher.” “Then you will handle it, I suppose. And I will be proven wrong about the boy since he had to sign an NDA. Not a word of this meeting or this trip to Italy.” “And if people ask about Andrea? How they met? How he came to work with him?” “The academy put them in contact together. And no one will think anything of it. He is too distantly related to think that we have anything to do with it. Nor has he ever spoken of us.” His eyes soften as he really looks at her. “Everything will be fine, stella. I have a good feeling about this one.” She looks at him, worries still sitting heavy in her stomach, horror too, because god what if her grandfather had just sentenced him to forever chasing a dream he can’t have and faith in them that they are unable to deliver. She knows already that both Räikkönen and Vettel are feeling that way, their faith in Ferrari wavering if not gone. “I won’t be able to do anything to help him. Not for years.” “You will be able to help. Not as much as you will in a few years time, but you can still help. We still make decisions for the team and sign off on things.” “And if he leaves before then?” “He won’t.” His voice is quiet, but filled with unwavering faith. Faith she wants to feel herself. “He will be what our team needs to become champion and he won’t leave until he gets that.”

2018

“Vettel is not happy that he wasn’t told before about getting a rookie as a teammate.” She tells her grandfather, looking over the top of her laptop at him. “Sebastian will deal.” Enzo coughs. “And he won’t have a rookie as a teammate.” She makes a humming noise, looking at all of the articles about the announcement of Charles Leclerc joining the historic F1 team before opening her email again. “Should I cover Andrea’s costs again?” “Yes. As long as you aren’t in power with the team, I want Charles kept close.” “That won’t happen until the end of the 2023 season. You want us to pay for Andrea that long?” “Andrea is also family.” He reminds her, before lips twitch into a smile. “And there is a reason he doesn’t receive as large of a Christmas bonus as everyone else anymore.”

2020

“They want to sign Sainz for a two year deal.” He snorts, “and for what? Let me guess sponsors?” “They’re serious about this, nonno. His team has already approached us about a two year contract.” “And he can’t go to Aston because Vettel is going there for two years.” “And he’ll never go back to Red Bull. Mercedes won’t entertain the idea.” “But we are?” He groans, running a hand over his face. “God, what has happened to this team? He hasn’t gotten a single podium, a win! And he’ll hit a hundred races this year. That is who they want on the team?” “He was sixth in the driver standings last year.” “Could he handle it?” She frowns. “Maybe. We wouldn’t know until it happened. He’s older like Vettel, has more experience as well than Leclerc. But Leclerc already has wins under his belt, managed to get fourth in the standings in only his second year. He was teammates with Verstappen in his rookie year, so it’s possible he could handle it.” “A two year contract, huh?” “Two years.”

2022

“Sainz wants to be extended.” She rubs at her forehead, the email, moreso the wording was troubling. “And why should we?” “Because he finished ahead of Charles in the driver's standings last year.” “By less than ten points and due to our own team's failings. They way they embarrassed him in Monaco.” He shakes his head, the rage he felt that day watching it happen coming back. “Four podiums to one. And neither got a win.” “Who needs a seat?” “There’s rumors about Schumacher.” “No.” He shakes his head, fingers beginning to tap against his desk. “Maybe in a few seasons, but not now.” “Bottas, Guyuan, De Vries, Hulkenberg.” He scoffs at all the names. “A friend at McLaren said they’re looking to drop Ricciardo.” His fingers stop. “Ricciardo. He’d understand his role.” “And as long as we treat him better than Red Bull did or how McLaren are, we’d have him.” “Why do they want to drop him?” “Underperforming. Norris is doing better.” He looks at her disbelief. “Please tell me that’s a joke.” She shakes her head. “He gave that fucking fake British team their first win in a decade!” “He’s older and despite his knack for giving good development advice, they’re ignoring it for Norris’.” He rubs at his forehead. “Write him down. Maybe we can get a talk with him before another team manages to snatch him up. Who else?” “It’s all reserves and formers now. There’s Piastri who's serving as Alpine’s reserve this season, wouldn’t shock me if they’ve already signed a contract with him for the next year but haven’t announced it though. We or Haas really has Illot still under contract as a reserve.” He shakes his head. “Leave him in Indycar for a few seasons. Might try him in 2024 when we’re looking for another driver.” She nods, writing his name down with 2024 beside it. “And Piastri?” “No. Alpine probably has something signed with him already. They’d be stupid not to.” “That leaves Ricciardo and Sainz.” He frowns. “Reach out to Ricciardo. We nearly had him for 2021, we should’ve taken him.” “Understood.”

As she begins to type out her email to Ricciardo’s team and she wonders how Blake will react to seeing an email for Ferrari, Enzo speaks.

“How is Charles?” “Nonno.” “I can’t ask?” “You are fishing.” She replies, not looking away from her laptop. “But he is good. Ready for the season to start.” “Hmm. And will he be coming for dinner?” She pauses her typing, looking at him. “Are you asking him to come to dinner?” “I’d like to meet the boy that has made my granddaughter so happy.” “Oh, nonno. It is not a boy that is making me so happy. Just you. You have been in better spirits for the last year.” She laughs. “And isn't it interesting that it was only when you started seeing him that both of our spirits rose?” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t make me take the Leclerc name.” It’s a high insult to the Ferrari name, one that her grandfather has made sure that she knew better to even joke about, but he doesn’t react with his fiery temper, just smirks. “It’s serious enough for marriage but not for you to bring him to meet me?” Blood rushes to her cheeks. “You have met him.” “When he was a boy.” He counters. “One you had distaste for.” He reminds her not that she has ever forgotten.

She had told Charles on their third date about it, watching as his mouth gaped at her, unable to believe that the boy he was at the age could be distasteful. Now, he likes to tease her about it. About how she didn’t like him but as soon as he left the room and she was issued the challenge of making sure he got to Ferrari she did.

“I haven’t met him since. I haven’t met him as your partner. And we both know that you’ll be taking each other's names.” “It is too early to say that.” She tells him, voice quiet. “But I’ll message him. He’ll love to meet you.”

2023

“This is ridiculous!” “I told you that this would happen! You put your hopes and dreams on a boy and look at what has happened!” “I did no such thing!” “You did! And I told you that you would ruin him. That he would lose faith just like the ones before and now look.” She waves a hand at the TV in front of them, playing the lowlights of the season. “He didn’t just go to that meeting with Red Bull and then shut it down like he has before, he entertained it.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “He should’ve left us for them when they first fucking offered.” “You do not mean that.” “Look at what our team has done to him! Look at what you have done! I have no power there and barely do you. I get to vote on what drivers we add to the team, but it is one vote, against six others. Same goes for the general direction of the car, which we both were out voted in. And that is it, that is my power! I don’t get to give him the Ferrari team he deserves, that we deserve, because you signed it away when my father died until I turn twenty-seven!” She turns away from Enzo, taking in a shaky breath, before turning back to him. “And you will not ever bring it up to Charles that he considered leaving us or if he does. Because I set up that meeting with Red Bull for him.” He looks at her resigned, saddened, but not surprised. “You would let him leave?” “I don’t let him do anything. I love you, nonno. I love this team. But it is not just Charles that they are disappointing and letting down. It is our fans, our people, our family, our legacy, me, you. Next month, I get to finally take back our families power in the sport and it is already too late for this season and nearly too late for the next. I can’t even guarantee a good first season with me in charge because of where the car is already developed too. And the upgrades.” She shakes her head. “None of it would matter with the team that is working there.”

“What do you want to do?” She looks at him, struggling not to cry, and she folds herself down in front of him, taking her hands in his. “A new structure and house. The voting can stay, but it has anonymity, we don’t talk about who is going to vote for what, only after the votes have been cast we talk, discuss, but with us having the power to veto if decisions are being made too much on outside factors like money and perceptions. Drivers who have multi-year contracts starting next season can be present for the votes, hear why we voted for what we did and even jump in on discussions if they feel inclined. We change. We have been stagnant for too long. We need new blood and beliefs.” He starts to shake his head and she squeezes his hands.

“Nonno, please just listen to me.” She pleads. “We need a complete overhaul of the team, you know it and have said it yourself. I can’t just hire Italian first, not when that has ended with us where we are now. I can offer everyone severance packages, pay for it all myself, but no more Italian first. We take who is best suited for the team and hope they are Italian. Maybe we baptize them if they aren’t.” His lips quirk into a smile. “The strategy team needs to go, PR, social media, the race engineers.” “Sainz likes his race engineer.” “Sainz also likes to say that he comes up with the strategy used in the races but as soon as they fail, he backtracks. He is a fair driver, but he needs to be retrained in PR.” “His family needs a gag order.” Her grandfather huffs. “Yes, but that is not something we can do. What we can do is get him retrained and get a new PR manager for him, same with social media. Charles will be getting the same. He needs an image refresh.” “This is what you want?” “Yes. I want to bring our team back to greatness. I already have the people I want for the team, I’m just waiting for your approval and for the next month to pass before I start sending out contracts.” He sighs, looking in pain. “Can they at least speak Italian?” She smiles, standing to press a kiss to his cheek. “They can learn and they will quickly.” Another sigh leaves him but he smiles, warm and gentle at her. “Mia figlia, la mia stella, fai quello che devi. Il mio supporto è tuo, sempre.” My daughter, my star, do what you must. My support is yours, always. “Thank you, papa.”

October 23rd, 2023

She stands facing the back wall of the room, listening as the door opens and people trudge in. She tries to count the pairs of feet she hears. She knows how many are supposed to come to this meeting, how many she asked to come, but it wouldn’t surprise her if someone let slip that the new boss, and the big boss at that, had arranged a meeting that a few people would try tagging along.

It’s the sound of the door shutting and then locking from the inside that has her turning around, giving a nod of thanks to her bodyguard, Roman, who inclines his head before retreating to the left front corner of the room.

“I see you all made it.” She says, her Italian accent barely noticeable around the English words and she can see a few faces turn confused at the English. Ferrari was Italian, they spoke Italian, had meetings in Italian. And more importantly, she was not just Ferrari, but a Ferrari. One that only three people in this room had ever met in person, and only two others had seen her face because of video calls. “Good, let's talk about the dumpster fire that was yesterday.” She can see a few faces balk at her words, but it’s Sainz’s that gets her attention. “You don’t agree?” “It was an unfortunate thing that happened to Charles, but I still ended up in P3.” “Due to a disqualification. Which is also what happened to your teammate. This also is the third time you’ve ended up on the podium due to such a thing. Let us also not forget to acknowledge that while the FIA didn’t check your car, like they should have after finding that two of four of the cars they checked had issues with their planks, doesn’t mean we didn’t.” He frowns and so does a good majority of the room. “I don’t understand.” “Your planks were just like Leclerc’s. Just barely under what they should be. But still enough for disqualification.” Eyes widen and she continues. “Not that it matters, because I won’t be alerting the FIA of such a thing. Not when the teams didn’t get enough time to set up the car because of the sprint format and I don’t think we need to give McLaren more of a jump on us.”

Walking around the room, she nearly pauses behind Charles' chair. Wants so badly to squeeze his hand, to offer him comfort or a way to get his frustrations out, but she continues until she is at the front of the room.

“The FIA won’t get rid of sprint races, but myself and a few other team representatives, will be going to them with a new sprint format for the next season hopefully or for at least starting the 2025 season. I expect both of you,” she looks at Sainz and Charles, “to voice your support. And I’m sure Red Bull, Williams, Mercedes, McLaren, Aston Martin, Alpine, and Haas, will be saying the same to their drivers as well.” “You want us to support a format that could be worse?” Charles asks, and she can see a few shakes of the head at him. “No, I want you to support one that is better. For Sprint weekends, you will have free practice one and the sprint shootout on Friday. On Saturday, there will be the sprint, followed by second free practice, then qualifying. Sundays of course will just be race day. Does that sound worse?” “No. You think the FIA will go for it?” “The FIA won’t have much of a choice. And besides next year allows each team to have more tyre’s allocated, they’ll want something extra to help burn through them to make it more interesting.”

“Now,” She lifts the lid of one of the two file boxes she has. “Leclerc, Sainz.” Both grimace at the use of their last names, but she catches a glimpse of amusement from Charles. “I have meetings with both of your management teams after this. Sainz, you’ll be getting a new PR manager, Ana. She or her assistant Val, will be with you for every event, interview, or anything else PR wise. Sometimes they both will.”

She turns her head to look at Charles. “Leclerc, you're getting an image refresh. I’m not letting a driver for this team have a vast majority of people thinking there’s nothing behind your apparently good looks.”

“Why isn’t Charles getting a babysitter?” She raises a brow at the tone and question. “Ana and Val aren’t babysitters, they work in PR. They will be retraining you. Because at the moment I could be breaking your contract right now with four races left in the season due to the public clause and if you have to ask why, you need more help than I thought.” He looks at her in shock and she can see a few people in the room shift uncomfortably. “Also concerning both of you, you both will have new race engineers in Mexico. Your previous engineers were lacking.” They both look uncomfortable with the decision but don’t say anything and she turns her attention to Fred.

“Fred.” “Ms. Ferrari.” She smiles at the title, though there’s nothing polite or happy about it. “This is your team is not?” She gestures to the drivers, the heads of different departments that all sit in the room with them. “Yes.” “Then, why am I doing your job for you and handling them?” With that she starts throwing out the severance packages onto the table. When she runs out of ones in the first box, she takes the lid off the second and just tips it over, letting them spill out.

“Severance packages.” She states, seeing some people's confused looks. “Some are effective immediately. Others will be given after the last race.” “Fabio’s name is here.” “So is Gualtieri and Cardile. They have been given generous severance packages.” She reassures. “You will meet their replacements either later today or in Mexico.” “They are heads of their departments!” “And they have failed at their jobs. As has everyone who has been issued one of these.”

—

“How did they take it?” “Safe to say I haven’t made any friends.” “So, it's going well.” She snorts, smiling at Charles as he enters her hotel suite. “I’m fairly certain they all would like to burn me at the stake.” Charles frowns. “Not Charles of course.” “Is he there?” “Just got here.” She confirms. “Do you want to talk to your grandson?” She teases and predictably Charles flushes. “Yes, yes. I want to make sure that he’s taking care of you, protecting you.” She rolls her eyes at the last part but passes the phone to Charles, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she does before stepping around him to her open laptop.

Leaning against the desk, she stares at the list in front of her. A list of drivers, currently on the grid, reserves, and not yet on the grid. Before the halfway point of the 2024 season she’d either have to sign contracts for one new driver or two for the 2025 season and now it just came down to who she wanted to reach out to.

A good amount of them are already on the bottom half of the page under the bolded words, not an option.

Verstappen was there, both Mercedes drivers, Bottas, Hulkenberg, Magnuessen, Alonso, Ocon, Stroll, Perez, Norris. She chooses not to look too closely at the fact that she doesn’t have Piastri there. She’d buy out a contract if need be and she knew Mark. If she proved that Ferrari could improve and be a winning team under her, he’d be willing to help her break a contract or two.

She jolts when a pair of lips presses themselves to her forehead, her phone being set down next to her laptop. “Your list is interesting. No Antonio?” “He’s a good development driver.” She says, typing his name out under not an option. Charles hums, sitting in the chair and then pulling her onto his lap, carefully pulling her legs to hangover the arm of the chair. “You have two Indycar drivers under possible.” She shrugs. “I’ll watch closely as the first few races go for them. They only have contracts for the 2024 season.” “Not that it would matter.” She grins, huffing out a laugh. “Not that it would matter.”

She watches as he peers at the list, his hands rubbing at her calf. “You have a lot of no’s.” His eyes narrow as he scans it again. “Mick, Ollie, and Vesti all under maybe?” “Vesti’s done well for himself, Mercedes is just going to waste him. Especially if he’s any good in an F1 car. Bearman’s had a strong first season in F2. Schumacher,” She hesitates. “I’m not keen on the idea. Especially with two seasons out of F1, but there is the opportunity to put him in Alfa Romeo.” “But Valterri and Zhou.” “Valterri knows he won’t be promoted back up. He’s doing good for being at Alfa Romeo, but he also has a lot of other ventures and pursuits. I’d like to keep him for another year or two after for development if I can.” He hums, “Alex and Schwartzman?” “Albon is sticking to Williams like glue. Which is understandable after Red Bull, but there’s hope.” She doesn’t mention that she’d think that he’d be a good teammate for Charles. “Schwartzman is already under contract with us. Just as a reserve and for testing, but who knows.”

He presses a kiss to her shoulder and he reads the top of the list, the possibles. He had only skimmed it before, but now he gives it his full attention.

“I’m on here.” “Yes.” “But,” “You don’t have an extension with us. You are only contracted with us for this next season. And as much as I’d like to keep you as would the fans and nonno, we haven’t proven that we deserve to have you here. I have to keep my options open that there will be two drivers I have to sign for 2025.” “I don’t like it.” He tells her, frowning. He didn’t like to think about not being at Ferrari, at the possibility of it, especially now with her at the helm and already making drastic changes. He didn’t know yet if those changes were good or not, but it felt like they were, he hoped that they were.

Piastri, Ricciardo, Drugovich, and he blinks as reads the last name, saying it outloud. “Sargeant. You have Sargeant under possible? Not a maybe but possible?” “Sargeant would sign a contract with us in a heartbeat, no contracts to break. 2024 will be a one year for him.” “Something has been signed?” She shrugs, “it’s common sense to keep him. Otherwise they’d just be dealing with a whole other rookie.” He sighs, jaw twitching. “I don’t like it. He has only scored a point because of my disqualification.” “I know.” “He has cost them much.” “I know.” Charles pouts, “he is American.” She lets out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That will be your issue with him? His Americanness?” “Yes.” “Well, it’s just a possibility.” She smiles, before leaning down to press their lips together in a quick kiss. “Now, tell me out of everyone in the maybes and possibles who you’d want as a teammate.” “And what? You’ll make it happen?” “If I can give you a good season next year, I’ll do everything I can.”

He eyes the list, taking in the names he mentioned before and the few he didn’t.

Pierre would end in a dumpster fire and he was selfish enough to say that he didn’t want him as a teammate so they could keep their friendship, one so close to his heart. Lawson was an interesting idea, he had performed well for having to suddenly jump into a car. Alex would be a good teammate as well and he knew that Alex would also love the development side of things like he did.

He didn’t know enough about Drugovich or either of the Indycar drivers really. They had performed fair in F2 and were doing well in Indycar, but it was unknown. He could see them both though at Alfa Romeo. Ollie was too young to step into such a huge seat, maybe for him also Alfa Romeo in 2025 and by 2028 he’d be ready to step in and then take over a seat.

Oscar and Sargeant are both interesting for completely different reasons. He wishes that she had gotten power in the beginning of 2022 and when the Alpine drama happened, snatched Oscar up.

But there’s one name that he keeps on looking at, that’s circling in his head.

“Daniel. If I could have anyone, I’d want Daniel.”

There’s a shared pained history there and Charles knows that he took what was going to be Daniel’s seat in 2019 before Ferrari really started gunning for him while Renault took a keen interest in Daniel.

Charles could still remember around the fifth race of the 2020 season when Daniel had cornered him, looking nervous to be around him for the first time since their accidentally shared Vegas trip that made them break the ice. Daniel seemed so much smaller as he asked Charles if he’d be okay with them being teammates next season, and had seemed shocked by the relieved and happy grin Charles had given him.

She hesitates, “I never said anything, but I tried getting Daniel for 2024 and even 2023 when the rumors about McLaren dropping him started up.” “But Carlos?” “He asked for an extension, but nonno and me wanted to present a different option. But by the time I reached out, Red Bull had managed to snatch him back up. He’s only with them though for 2024. He’s free after that.” “So, you are saying?” He hopes. “I’m saying that, I’ve already reached out as of yesterday. Red Bull isn't in any hurry to get him under contract for 2025 and Blake has made it clear that Daniel isn’t signing any contracts until May or June to them and us.” “Which is enough time to prove that the team is improving.” “Yes.”

He stares at her wide eyed speechless. “What does that mean?” “If we improve?” He nods. “We sign you and Daniel until 2027.” She pauses, hesitating, but she won’t lie to him now. “We let you two battle it out at the beginning of the 2025 season. If Daniel is scoring more points, higher on the podium than you by break, you defend. We’ll ask you to let him pass if both of you can get on the podium or he has better pace and can get on it. We let him become world champion first. And it would go the other way around as well.” He rolls the idea in his mind, lets it sit in his stomach. “Daniel Ricciardo the 2025 world champion and Charles Leclerc the 2026 world champion.”

He lets them sit in the air, the idea of practically another three seasons before it could happen. Could he wait that long? Watch as Daniel got it before him? Watch as his teammate got it before him? Could he let himself be sacrificed for his teammates gain again? He thinks it over, because it is not fair for her to ask, to say, but that is what driving in Formula One is. It is not fair, with unequal machinery and only twenty spots available. To have to worry not just about your race but also your teammates depending on where the point standings are at.

But she is offering him something that he wasn’t before and with clearness, transparency. Not something that will be dropped on him in the middle of the race or as he’s about to finish lap ten or fifty. She’s telling him now what to expect and how it will go. She’s letting him know that it doesn’t matter which one is in the lead for the championship, just that whichever one isn’t when they come back from break, will be defending and he thinks now of her emphasis on the word. Not sacrificing, but defending. She wouldn’t let either of them be compromised so badly that they drop either low in the points or out of the points completely, but she would ask that they defend the other.

“I want it. Even if I do have to wait an extra year. It’d be worth it.” “And if you won in 2025 and then Daniel in 2026?” “We could trade off years, but I want it, I want that.” She smiles and there’s something sweet and dangerous about it. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

@eleetalks @cixrosie @badbatch-simp24 @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @benstormy @bibliosaurous

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #figlia mia - charles fic

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paddockbunny · 5 months

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Don't Blame Me - Part 4

Summary : You had it bad. You had it so damn bad for a man that was not your boyfriend. And when you arrive in Brazil and find out all the drivers were staying in the same hotel…what happens when it’s suddenly all out there to you, on offer, and boyfriend approved? Rating : 18+ Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader (Max Verstappen’s GF) Word Count : Multi-part imagine - part 4 is 4,000+ words Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult language, fantasising having sex with someone who isn’t your boyfriend, sexual themes, graphic descriptions of sex, mention of Christian Horner & Jos Verstappen Images : curated from Pintrest Authors Note : Ok housekeeping. 1. I am sorry this has taken so long to put out, I apologise! I've had some pretty shit health news and I am struggling a bit with it so I hope this doesn't disappoint 2. I realise theres a little plot hole in terms of sprint races and quali etc but for the purposes of the story just go with it please. 3. There are two flashbacks in this chapter. The first flashback takes place AFTER the second. Both are denoted by *** and are labeled by the month so I hope that it helps / makes sense haha. Thank you for reading!!!

Brazil ’23

Qualifying

The chatter over the headphones was mixed with the low rumble you felt as Max’s teammate pulled his Red Bull into his garage next door. Over the radio you heard him being told that he had a hydraulics issue and to come in immediately which set you on edge for Max. He had been doing so well (he had been all year) and this was a total steal of a weekend for him after topping every practice session and round after round of qualifying. Surely they wouldn’t let something go wrong for him. Christian wouldn’t let that happen to him, would he? You looked over to where the pit wall was and you saw Horner turn in his chair and glare into the Perez garage. You tried not to smirk as you thought about how you (and Max) would pay some good money to find out the inner workings of Christian Horner’s mind – especially as all the journalists were constantly asking questions about Perez’ place in the team next year. But that didn’t concern you. Max was your only concern. Right?

Q1 and Q2 went by in the blink of an eye and as Q3 begun you felt yourself get nervous. You turned your head in time to see your boyfriend pull his blue rocket ship out of his garage at the direction of the pit crew who was flagging him on. You watched as suddenly he came to an abrupt halt and he was held with the car half in, half out of the box. Fuck! You have to be kidding?! Your brain went to the worst and you thought that he was going to be given the same orders to retire as his team mate had received when suddenly you realised it was just to allow another car passed to go in front. The white and blue car of Daniel pull past quickly in front of him and you took a steadying breath. Daniel had been on for a phenomenal weekend himself. He had put solid times in just like Max had and you nervously bit the inside of your cheek wondering if there was a possibility that the pair of them would get into a scrap for pole position as Max shot out into the pit lane behind him. As each of the cars made it out on track – their relevant drivers all trying to put in the best lap times, jostling each other out of position every few minutes – you couldn’t help but keep one eye on your boyfriend’s timings and those of the man whom you dreamt of on a regular basis.

Just as Charles Leclerc topped the timing board with a lighting fast lap you found your fingers moving to ghost over your bottom lip. They acted off their own accord and you had no control over them. The tip of your first finger pressed to your lower lip and you had to take an immediate inhale as your lungs became hungry and desperate for air when the memory flooded back to you simultaneously. Daniel. His lips. The kiss.

***

Monza, Italy

September ‘23

The loud audible gasp that absconded from your open mouth came so quickly you weren’t even able to attempt to cover it up. It had been loud enough for others to hear. In fact it had been stupidly loud enough that Max’s father Jos (who was not your biggest fan) turned to glare at you as soon as it had escaped you. You felt his eyes remain on you but your own were transfixed to the screen before you. Desperate to know he was ok. Please be ok. Just get out of the fucking car. You screamed inside your own head – not daring to do it aloud in front of the elder Verstappen. You were hypnotised by the action on the screen as yellow flags were shown all around the track. The safety car was deployed and you realised you were holding your breath waiting to know he was ok.

“I’m fine. Sorry guys. I couldn’t do anything, the prick ran me wide and then I locked up.” Daniel explained. The “prick” he was referring to was your boyfriend. As they went round neck and neck into turn 2 Max stole all of the available space from Daniel and it all happened so fast you couldn’t work out what exactly had happened. Within seconds, Daniel’s car was flying off track into a techpro barrier at speed. Parts of the car went flying. His wing was broken and two tires had flown clean off. His race was over and it was Daniel’s fault. You couldn’t help but feel upset for him. He had been doing so well this weekend and upset had been caused amongst fans yesterday when Max denied him the chance of his first pole of the season. Your big stupid boyfriend scoffed at you mockingly when you had suggested he could have at least given him the glory of pole this one time. Which ok, it went against everything Max stood for and you were sure Daniel wouldn’t want a pity pole but it would be good for Max to allow others a chance sometimes. At least show the media he wasn’t some Dutch Ogre. Eyes glued to the screen you watched as finally Daniel got out of his crumpled race car and into the medical car that had gone to collect him. He didn’t look hurt. Thankfully. But from his body language you could tell he was pissed.

The decision to exit the garage and go find him came upon you before you had thoroughly worked out exactly what it was you were doing. Your feet seemed to carry you away from Red Bull and outside into the paddock without you telling them too. Ever since that night in Monaco when he said what he did – y’know, the whole what he would do to you if you hadn’t been Max’s girlfriend thing (which still made your stomach tighten into a knot just thinking about it) - you had formed a sort of weird little friendship with him. It didn’t really go anything further than what you would expect of a best friend and his mate’s girlfriend friendship to go like but there certainly was tension – sexual chemistry perhaps, it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. There were glances and burning looks at each other. The odd smutty remark and compliment flowed freely from his lips. It only made you think of him more (of fucking him that is) and in your head you had been replacing Max with him every single time the pair of you had sex. You kept it all to yourself and played it close to your chest. You didn’t want anyone knowing you wanted nothing more than to be split in two by him. But he was flirty by nature and you knew he was most likely just trying to make you feel comfortable with him seeing as he was such a good friend to your boyfriend.

The other thing that happened to play on your mind and perhaps influence your decision to go find him was the fact that Max had told you last night Daniel’s family was supposed to be at the race weekend. As the pair of you lay in bed Max sympathised with Daniel’s disappointment – Max had always been incredible open with you about how much he struggled growing up and the poor relationship he had with his own family so it touched you he was so considerate of his friend (it even made you feel a bit ridiculous that you had been having so many dirty little thoughts over him). He seemed to genuinely care that Daniel had been saddened that an emergency had taken place back in Australia and they wouldn’t be able to make it and even though you weren’t sure how Daniel would react to the fact you knew, you wanted him to know he had an ear if he needed one.

As you walked in the direction you thought the Alpha Tauri garage was you were pleased that you had been so correct as unexpectedly he sauntered from the back of the garage. When you saw him, with his race suit pulled down dangerously low in his hips (what was it in these men walking around practically oozing sex and giving girls the fodder for totally impure thoughts about them? Your boyfriend included) you could tell from his body language he looked rather pissed. You thought this would have been a totally fruitless pursuit and he would have been tangled up in talking to those in charge of his team – or throwing your boyfriend under the bus perhaps – so you had a moment when it dawned on you that you actually hadn’t been expecting to see him at all. But now, you were committed. Even if you mind went completely blank and you couldn’t think of any sympathetic words at all.

The knock upon his driver’s room door that came from your knuckles was gentle and soft. As you stood there, growing more and more anxious, you realised that it was probably too quiet for him to hear and the idea that you could just abandon your silly little apology now before he knew about it entered your head. But as quickly as it entered your head and flew straight back out again. Instantly, the door was pulled open. The first (and only) thing that you could register in that moment was the fact that he was now topless. Daniel was sans shirt. He was half naked. His race suit remained but slung exceeding low on his exposed hips. Good fucking Lord. His warm golden chest was staring at you. The defined ripples of rock hard abs popped and bulged. Your mouth salivated. For fuck’s sake! A deep, dark throb ripped through your lower half. An ache that you knew was linked to your unforgivable horniness for this man. Self control. Don’t be fucking stupid. Max. Think of Max. You groaned internally at yourself but you knew that if only you were single this would be playing out very differently.

Just then - as you were considered the very real possibility that you were about to have an aneurism or stroke from the pure sight of Daniel semi dressed - he moved aside. The tiny head tilt he gave signalled to you that you were welcome to “come in” to his private drivers room (away from prying eyes and sharp ears). Daniel held the door open and moved aside a little for you. You almost completely blanked and if the law questioned you on the state of his room you wouldn’t be able to recall one single thing.

“I’m sorry.” You squeaked out. Play it cool. Come on. Get your shit together. “For Max. He ruined your race.” You explained. Desperately hoping it would give him the reason as to why you were there invading his personal space in such a bad moment. Daniel’s thunderous face seemed to soften right in front of your eyes. His taught muscles relaxed and eyes neutralised. A smile spread across his softened lips.

“You don’t have to do that.” He replied. “It’s just racing. There’s no harm done.” He shrugged. His neck looked even bigger, thicker than it did when he had a shirt on. You couldn’t help but admire his physic, as it was so different to what you were used to. Max was strong, broad and what you would describe as meaty. He had a bit of something to him that you could grip hold of and you loved that. But you were a woman and there was something about a man who was so well defined and ripped that just got you going. Stop it! Stop thinking about the abs! If you don’t stop now you’re going to think about him naked! FUCK SAKE!! You couldn’t control your brain and you completely failed to control yours eyes. They flickered down. They wasted no time going straight to his crotch. He’s fucking seen that you creep. You gritted your teeth together before letting a shaky sigh leave your lips as you really didn’t want to have to look back into his mesmerising eyes now he had just seen you checking out the bulge in fabric south of his naked abdomen.

“All the same, Daniel. I’m sorry he acted like a dick out there.” You didn’t realise how soft and low your voice had gotten. Nor how strangely intimate this moment felt. Regardless of how you were feeling you didn’t feel as awkward as you thought you were. As he took steps toward you – slowly but somehow all at once – you stayed rooted to the spot and didn’t move. You let him close the small gap between your bodies and couldn’t break the bewitching spell of his gaze. The burning, intense look in his eyes made you feel weak. You almost felt like a lamb that had led itself to the slaughterhouse. The thought was still bouncing off all of the ignited neurons in your brain when you finally piped up; “I probably need to…”

Then, as your words were cut short and the oxygen was sucked right out of your lungs, you felt yourself go lightheaded and it was as if you were falling from a 20-story building. The fact you were pressed into something cool and metallic behind you never registered. Neither did the feeling of something hard and warm pressed flush against your front. The only thing that you suddenly could think about – the only smidgen of brain function you were able to comprehend – was the fact Daniel’s mouth was on yours. His big, pouty lips embraced your own as if they had been searching for them his whole life. Then they began to move against yours and a shaky, unsteady breath flowed from his parted mouth. It was swallowed in its entirety by your own as a barely audible gasp snapped out of you. With your mouth now open – your lips parted to him, granting him unspoken access – Daniel’s tongue ran over yours in a testing, teasing motion. A moan slipped from your throat. His hands gripped at your waist before one of them trailed up and pushed its way through the hair that you had worn down because he had complimented you on your long flowing locks the last time you had seen him. You realised this was what you had been dreaming about. This was fantasy that had been playing over and over in your head for the past few months. You were getting what you wanted.

Because of all the things I would do to you, if you weren’t his. His words he had dared to speak in Monaco repeated in your head while his tongue glided across yours. He ground himself against your core and you could feel the effect you had had on him. He wanted you. It was painfully obvious he did. But the last part of the words he had spoken to you that night reiterated them self to you. If you weren’t his.

Max.

You suddenly remembered Max.

Your hands were suddenly pushing against the flesh of Daniel’s warm chest. While you tried desperately to fill your lungs with air your eyes flicked open and you were instantly staring into confused, yet still affectionate eyes.

“I can’t.” You stated plainly.

“Max.”

The next however many minutes were all a complete, total blur of which you couldn’t recount any of them at all. Your mind kept going back to Daniel and it didn’t help you could taste him on your tongue as you stomped back into the back of the Red Bull garage. What had happened was wrong. It was fucked. He had no right to kiss you like that – he had no right to kiss you at all. But you had kissed back and you only stopped because you suddenly remembered your boyfriend, not because you wholeheartedly wanted too. Fuck. I hate myself. I went too far. You slipped the headphones back on to catch the last remaining few laps of the race and reprimanded yourself while doing it. Why did I go looking for him? Did I give him the wrong signals? Fuck why couldn’t I have been single? He would have been fucking me right now if I were single. God, he’s such a good kisser. Fucking hell, he’s probably ridiculous at eating you out. The feeling of your wet – no soaking – panties that were now clinging to your dripping wet folds only helped stoke the burning desire that was growing inside of you to run back to him. You forced your attention to the screens to try quashing all of the disgusting thoughts running through your mind. As Max’s car flashed up on the screen you really did feel insurmountable guilt begin to build inside of your body. You kiss one of his best mates. You kissed someone he respected and loved like a brother. Someone he cared for. You knew Max was open-minded and he was forgiving to a fault, but you didn’t want to tell him and destroy what you had. So as you watched him cross the finish line and clinch a win in Monza, you swore never to tell him.

***

Budapest Hungary

July '23

The scene was set. Max observed Daniel grow weary and head to their prior reserved table in the dimly lit corner of the private members bar. This was his chance, his one moment of getting him alone - away from all of the hangers on Daniel was surrounded by - to finally ask the burning question that had been playing on his own mind for months now.

As his feet began carrying him in the direction of his favourite Formula One teammate he swallowed his own tiredness. The body aches and drained feeling from a tiring race were rippling through body and he knew Daniel would be suffering too but it didn’t distract him from what he had to do. Like a lion stalking its prey, Max stalked over to the corner and reminded himself this was what he wanted.

Max flopped down on the plush dark cherry red velvet sofa with a low but steady sigh. He situated himself against the opposite arm to Daniel - just in case this question wouldn’t be as well received as he suspected it would be - and wondered if he should have informed you of his decision first or pushed for you to have attended this weekend so you would now be present to make things easier as he pitched the idea to his friend. But as the thought of you flooded his memory (specifically the sight you lying naked in his bed the morning he had to leave to catch an early flight) he found himself swallowing again. This time with a strange excitement that he couldn’t place but he wasted no time in dwelling upon it.

Max felt Daniel’s eyes on him and he relaxed into the sofa. Head rolling back against it before falling in the direction of his old teammate and catching his gaze. “I have a proposition for you.” The words came freely from Max’s lips. He found it surprising how easily they managed to flow from him. Daniel’s head tilted and his eyebrows raised. Max wondered what he must have been thinking but he was sure there was zero way it would be what was next to leave his mouth.

“I want you fuck my girlfriend.”

The passing seconds for Max felt light, carefree and completely relaxed while by the unsuspecting, blank look upon Daniel’s they were clouded in surprise, confusion and total shock. But the longer Daniel remained silent it only confirmed to Max what he had already known all these months. The lack of carefree laughter, quick mocking or jesting gave Daniel away. It was clear to Max that Daniel desired you in the exact same way that you desired him. He had known it for a while. He knew you harboured some dirty little fantasies (like so many other women did toward the handsome, smiling Australian) and after dwelling upon it for a few weeks he had come to the realisation he wanted you to have exactly what you wanted. He had no reason to feel intimidated or threatened by Daniel. He knew you belonged to him and he wouldn’t grudge you something you craved. And even now, as the question hung in the space between them, he was confident Daniel would give in to his obvious lust and attraction for you too.

Just as your hidden sexual fascination had been completely obvious to him, Max noted Daniels unmistakable reciprocation. His whole behaviour and attitude around you changed and he always seemed to be trying to be careful with his words and making sure he wasn’t going overboard with his flirtatious conduct toward you. But his staring got more intense and Max couldn’t help but clock it each and every time. He noted how Daniel seemed to like being near you whenever he realised Max was just out of reach, how Daniel was always whispering in your ear when he was out of earshot and how he would bite his lip as if he was trying to hold himself back each time you would laugh. Any other man would probably have been annoyed, pissed and angry at how his best mate was hot for his girlfriend but Max wasn’t like most men. He loved you. Wholeheartedly and irrevocably. And most importantly, he trusted you completely.

“I know you know she likes you and I’ve seen you with her, I know your moves Daniel.” It was true. Max did know all of Daniel’s moves. He had practically studied them, learned them and used them himself to pick up women. “Mate….” On a quick, sharp exhale Daniel let out a nervous, uncertain laugh His eyes looked impossibly large as if he was concerned and worried he was about to get punched. “Don’t worry, I’m not pissed…” Max smirked “In fact, I’m glad it’s you she’s been fantasising about and not someone else that couldn’t satisfy her. Imagine if it were Charles or worse, Lando.” Max playfully scoffed and for a moment it set Daniel at ease.

Daniel wasn’t sure his heart had ever beaten as fast as it was since Max had asked his question. I want you to fuck my girlfriend. Those were his exact words and they kept going round and round like a funfair ride in his mind. It seemed utterly inconceivable that Max would ask a question like that. He was head over heels in love with you. Any fool could see it.

“It’s your girlfriend….” Was all Daniel could choke out because suddenly his mind was flooded with the image of you. At first it was innocent. He simply remembered you laughing at a joke he made the last time he saw you; then what you were wearing and how good you looked in it; then how glowy and soft your skin looked as the warm sun beat down upon it; then how glossy and kissable your lips were; then he pictured you naked and then FUCK! That made it game over.

He mentally tried to scold himself but it was no good. The sheer thought of actually getting to fuck you was too strong and if Max hadn’t suddenly begun speaking to him he would have been trying to hide his very obvious semi growing in his jeans.

“I know and that’s why I want her to have what she wants.” The thought of his lips trailing down your chest, his tongue flicking over your pert responsive nipple, made his throat tighten. But as badly as he wanted to know what you tasted like or hear the noises you made as he made you squirm in pleasure he wasn’t sure he actually could do it. He wasn’t the type to fuck his friend’s ex let alone current girlfriend – even with permission. “Max, I couldn’t…” Daniel tried to protest and reject the idea but he was cut off mid sentence. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it?”

God, had he thought about it. He had thought about you. Ever since the first time he met you when you had slammed right into him, he had thought about you. He had long gone past thinking about you naked. He had already spent many nights with his hand working up and down his pulsating cock to the THOUGHT of you bare and exposed in front of him. He had got himself off in the shower when he THOUGHT of his tongue tasting the glorious wetness that pooled between your thighs. And he quickly made himself come before a race at the sheer THOUGHT of you pulsating and clenching around him as he made you come. Daniel had THOUGHT about fucking you. He THOUGHT about it a lot.

Another nervous laugh came from him as he tried to make sense of Max’s sudden, rather out of character behaviour. He was convinced Max was going to burst into a fit of laughter and expose it as only a prank but he didn’t. Max actually glared at him across the sofa as he awaited an answer. It crossed Daniel’s mind that perhaps Max was getting off on the thought of his girlfriend screwing another man and it was some sex thing – cuckholding, he thought – but Max never seemed the type.

“What’s the catch?” He finally piped up. “There isn’t one. Well, it can only happen once but other than that.” Daniel watched Max’s shoulders move up and down in a shrugging motion while Max kept a watchful eye upon Daniel’s eyes to try determine if he was interested in his smutty proposition or not. “It won’t make it weird between us?” Daniel added and Max shook his head. “Not at all.” He was so carefree about the decision to offer up his girlfriend that in the moment Daniel couldn’t believe how cool Max had become – even if it passed him only fleetingly.

“Well…” Daniel paused and thought of his word choice in how to agree to all this because he seriously thought he was actually in the twilight zone and Max had lost all of his marbles.

“Take some time. Think about it. It’s not like she’s going to go unsatisfied” Max’s voice oozed with cockiness. He knew how good he was in bed and he ALWAYS made sure she came. “If you don’t want to, if you think it’s too weird then fine, whatever, it’s cool.” Daniel once again watch Max shrug “You would regret it though….” And Max knew fine well Daniel was someone who lived without regrets.

Part 5 Here

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