#raised your hand if you're here to discuss

[livesworthlivingau]

Lives Worth Living Chapter 26-28

ISAT/Two Hats Spoilers below! CW: Outbursts, Mentions of stabbing/killing, unhealthy obsessing.

"So how you holding up Sif?" (You suddenly snap back to reality and look over to Isa, now left alone as the other three had left for the market.)

"What do you mean?" (You ask, confused by the sudden question.)

"You looked a little zoned out there, and getting to see Vale again, and Nille, it's just a lot right now, even if it's good stuff. So... Just wanted to check in with you!" (He gives his trademark bright smile, and you can't help but smile back.)

"It is a lot... but it's good, the family's back together again, even L-Vale now... I just... I really hope it works out this time."

"This time?" (CRAB!!)

"Y-You know! Like, having them around... I want them to fit in is all!" (A more serious look appears on his face. There's no way he bought that...)

"Sif... You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I do! I know! I... I'm sorry, but it involves them a lot too, and I can't talk about it without them." (Your voice falters a bit, the topic making you uncomfortable as you start to scratch absentmindedly at your arms. His large, gentle hand meet yours after a moment, trying to calm you down.)

"Hey, it's okay, I understand. I just worry, y'know? But if you're sure it's okay for now then I can wait!" (He smiles at you again. You place your head on his shoulder, closing your eye with a relieved sigh.)

"I love you Isa."

"I love you too Sif."

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

"Excuse me for a moment, I need to use the restroom~." (Vale explains before leaving the table and conversation. They seemed especially uneasy since Nille left to help Bonbon in the kitchen a few minutes ago, probably still struggling being around everyone else...)

"Siffrin, is there, uhm… Is Vale uncomfortable around us?" (Mira asks, it seems you weren't the only one to notice.)

"They're… just shy, you know? Not used to new people! That's all!" (You try to smile convincingly.)

"Right…" (Crab.)

"They just need some time to warm up is all!" (Isa to the rescue, as always. Thank the stars.)

"They were stuck in the loops too afterall! Sif was the only one they really interacted with, right?"

"No wonder they're so on edge." (Odile chimes in with a little tease, not even looking up from her book.)

"H-Hey!?" (Mira and Isa can't help but snort and snicker at your expense. It WAS a pretty good joke you guess…)

"Though we should discuss what our next course of action is, now that Nille has found us. I assume we'll still head to Bambouche for their sakes, then continue our little reunion tour? I imagine you'd like to return to Jouvente at some point Isabeau?" (Odile begins to plan aloud to get us all on the same page.)

"Eventually, sure, I'm in no rush! But what about you, M'dame? Don't you want to go back to Ka Bue too?" (Odile pauses for a moment, glancing over at you. You must have been making some kind of face considering how she raises a brow at you.)

"I believe our little time traveler here already knows the answer to that question." (You look away nervously.)

"It's uhh... complicated? I don't think Odile cares about returning anytime soon." (You try to keep it vague, to which she nods. Her eyes casually return to her book before she speaks up again.)

"Very astute of you, Siffrin. If I do happen to return, it will likely be out of obligation more than anything else. I believe we have more pressing matters to attend to, like the fact you're still looping."

"I wouldn't exactly call that pressing..."

"Th-This isn't something you should just put off Siffrin! What if it just keeps getting out on the back burner and suddenly you're right back where you started again?!" (Mira chimes in in a panic.)

"I'm not saying we just ignore it forever! Just... we have some time at least, and Odile stopped me from looping once already! If anyone's gonna know what to do, it'll be her, right?"

"I stopped it in the moment, preventing you from looping ever again is a whole ordeal in and of itself. It will take a lot of research on a subject that no one knows anything about, and another that is purely theoretical. I may be good at what I do but I'm not a miracle worker."

"You might not think so." (You chuckle a bit. No matter how many times it happens, she still managed to surprise you over the years with new breakthroughs and theories on craft, sadnesses, and otherwise. She smirks a bit as her eyes remain on her book.)

"While your confidence in my is flattering, I'd still like to tackle this subject sooner rather than later."

"Alright, we'll get to Bambouche and go from there, okay? For now I'm just glad we're all together again..." (Your expression falls to a bittersweet one. You feel Isa's hand on your shoulder, giving a light squeeze and smiling brightly at you. You lay your head against his side and close your eye, savoring the embrace.)

"Dinner'll be ready in a few!... Hey, where'd Vale go?" (Nille asks, stepping back in from the kitchen.)

"Oh! They went to the restroom! B-But it's been a while, hasn't it? should someone check on them?"

"I better do it, y'all sit tight!" (Nille quickly takes the offer to ensure no one else would, heading off to find them.)

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

"Before I explain this, it's not their fault, please don't blame them, they were going through a lot and I didn't notice how it was affecting them and I told their secret an-" (You start to explain at a million miles a minute, too frantic to be processed properly even as Nille lightly grabs your shoulders to snap you out of it.)

"Hey, easy, just start at the beginning okay?" (She tries to comfort you, to which you nod and take a deep breath.)

"... When I first looped back all those years, I was... frozen? I was panicking, stuck in my head, I thought it must be a dream or something, there's no way this was really happening, right?... And then I heard their voice... and all of that just went away." (You glance over at Vale. They look... confused? Shocked maybe? You guess you never got the chance to tell them this part.)

"I ran to find them right after, as fast as I could, and... I was just so happy to see them, I didn't think about how they were feeling... forced to be back, I'd been through so much and they were just left behind... and then I dragged them along back here to force them into a family they didn't want any part in."

"Stardust... That's..."

"It's true Vale, and I'm sorry. I really don't blame you for what happened." (Vale just looks away, clearly not agreeing, but they can tell they won't change your mind. Nille still looks very confused, waiting for the story to continue.)

"So things seemed fine for a little while, but then Odile noticed I was doing a little too well, and I told her about everything... including their secret, which they made me promise not to tell." (You really were hamming up how awful you had been, even if you didn't realize it. It was your fault after all, Vale can't be punished for that.)

"Vale found out what I did, they were already on the verge of snapping and that pushed them over the edge, so... they had to go back, before I dragged them to the party... They had to make us all loop back..." (Nille takes a second to process all of this, before her eyes widen, realizing what you were implying.)

"Frin, tell me what happened, please." (She asks, her eyes looking almost desperate, as if asking you to assure her it's not what she thinks.)

"Vale... They..."

"I STABBED HIM! I SHOVED HIS OWN DAGGER INTO HIS HEART AND FORCED HIM BACK, OKAY?! I'M A MONSTER AND A MURDERER!!!" (You jump back as they suddenly start screaming out. You look back to the door, thankful no one else was there at the moment. Nille pulls herself away from their outburst. Looking scared, confused, conflicted.)

"N-No! You're not Vale, you knew I'd be fine! You knew I'd loop!"

"And what if you didn't?!?! What if it all ended right there?!? How could I do such a thing?! How could I take that risk?! How could I hurt you like that?!" (Their eyes were wide and crazed, they gripped their hair painfully tight. They looked ready to snap again. Before you could try to comfort them, Nille was already holding their face to try and snap their out of it.)

"Hey hey hey! Vale, Calm down please." (They stopped suddenly, tears flowing from their eyes and staring back at Nille, surprised they weren't being treated like the monster they thought they were.)

"You made a mistake... a big one, sure, but a mistake none the less. Frin's okay now, right?"

"B-But... I killed them... H-how could anyone forgive me for that?..."

"Well, Frin did, and that's the most important person to do so I'd say... It's a lot to take in alright, still not really sure how I feel about it right now... but I'm not just gonna hate you for it, especially after everything." (Vale stares up at her, they look confused, their eyes darting about as they try to piece something together.)

"I doubt you want to go back in there tonight. Maybe you should stay at the Inn for tonight, cool off a little..."

"Y-Yes... that sounds like it's for the best..." (Before Vale can get too far, Nille lightly grabs their arm to keep them from going too far.)

"This doesn't give you permission to run away though! Remember... you made a promise." (She smiles softly then lets go.)

"... Right... I promise." (Vale can't hold eye contact with either of you for more than a second, slowly starting to walk off again.)

"We'll see you tomorrow, Vale?..." (You plead. They nod back at you before fully turning away. The both of you watch as they slowly vanish from view towards the town center.)

"... Hey, Frin? Are you sure you're okay?" (Nille starts to speak again, now that Vale was safely out of earshot.)

"... It's not that bad, I promise."

"But they killed you Frin... I know they've got issues but... I didn't think they'd be capable of doing that." (Nille holds her arms, gripping them a bit too tightly.)

"They're not! They knew I'd be okay! I'm still looping, it's fine! They would never have done it if they knew it wouldn't happen, like when-" (You cut yourself off, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth.)

"... When what?"

"... After the loops 'ended' the first time, I went to find them... That's when they admitted who they were, and they kinda... snapped. They attacked me, they were ranting and raving, they spent all that time just watching me do it and have an easier time than they ever did, everything they went through and my loops were practically a walk in the park in comparison... But when they had me beaten they couldn't do it! They wouldn't! They're not capable of that I swear!!!" (You do your best to convince her... and possibly yourself in the process. You still blame yourself for what happened, you just don't want Vale to suffer for it.)

"Frin... I'm not saying we should just send them on their merry way or anything but... they still attacked you, they still stabbed you... I don't know if you should just act like that's fine and forget it ever happened..."

"Nille... I've had a very long time to think about this. I've missed them for decades, and now they're finally back... I'm not going to do anything to mess that up, so please don't do so either." (You don't realize it until it's already happened, your face turning to a colder, darker expression. It felt vaguely familiar, likely similar to how you looked in those later loops... Nille looks a bit unnerved by it.)

"Siffrin, that's not healthy! Don't you think you're being a bit obsessive about thi-"

"I don't care!" (Nille jolts in shock, stepping back at your outburst. You stop before you lose it too much, taking a deep breath to compose yourself.)

"I just want them back... I just want them to be happy... I had 30 years of a wonderful life with all of you while they got nothing... Isn't that unfair? Isn't that a tragedy? They go through all the pain and suffering and I just come in and replace them?!"

"Frin! That's no-"

"NO! They're the only reason I'm here! They're the only reason I got to be happy for all this time! So don't you dare get in the way of me making it up to them!" (You snap. Nille stares down at you in a mix of shock and nerves. She looks over you a bit, as if trying to work out the best way to deal with this situation. You sigh and take a step back, making yourself smaller as you duck into your cloak a little.)

"I'm sorry... but please, don't... don't ruin this for me... I need this. I need them... Good night Nille." (You excuse yourself before you say anything else you may regret. You head back inside, ignoring anything she or anyone else may be saying to you as you pass. You reach your room and settle in for bed, not wanting to deal with this day any longer.)

[snapghoul]

I'm loving this extended Tom Cruise Universe you're building with Top Gun and Mission Impossible. It's just so much fun!!

Do you have any thoughts about Ethan and Bradley interacting? I'd love to see baby Bradley being So Confused by the whole twin situation, but I'd also love to see something with grown up Bradley. Really just anything with those two.

Thank you so much for sharing your writing with us!! 💙💙

Hehe I love the cruise multiverse, I’m having so much fun and I love that you are enjoying it. Here’s some more Mitchell twins and Bradley ❤️

Vignettes of Bradley and Ethan.

Mav is there too

Warnings: foul language

The first time Bradley mistook Ethan for Mav was when he was five.

Ethan stepped into Carol’s house, arriving right on time at four o'clock, though he wasn’t sure where his brother was. He stood awkwardly by the door—familiar with Carol, but having not been around much lately.

“Mav! Mav! Look!” Suddenly, little Bradley clung to Ethan’s leg, bouncing excitedly while holding up a shiny red diecast car. Caught off guard, Ethan quickly bent down and lifted Bradley onto his hip.

“Look! Mom got me a new car!” Bradley beamed, proudly displaying the toy. Ethan chuckled, taking the car with his free hand and admiring it.

“Wow, kid! That’s a great one!” He grinned back at the toddler, who was still glowing with excitement.

Just then, the door swung open behind him and bumped into Ethan's hip. He turned to see Pete, clad in his brown bomber jacket and aviators, his hair tousled from a motorcycle ride.

Pete's face lit up at the sight of his twin. He shut the door and clapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, unaware of Bradley's bewilderment as he glanced back and forth between them. Carol appeared around the corner, laughing at her son's confused expression.

“Hey, little man! Is that Camaro from your mom?” Pete asked, enthusiasm bubbling over as he reached for the car. Bradley released it without hesitation, eyes wide.

“This is awesome!” Pete exclaimed, turning the car in his hands. But Bradley's confusion shifted to fear; he squirmed in Ethan's arms and began to whine. Without protest, Ethan set him down, and Bradley dashed to his mother, burying his face in her legs.

Pete burst out laughing, while Ethan felt a flush of embarrassment.

. ✰ .

Bradley was beginning to appreciate Mav’s affection for his desert hangar; it offered a peaceful escape from the chaos of everyday life. He navigated around the wing of Mav’s P-51 Mustang, the morning sun casting a warm glow as he recalled his promise to spend the weekend with Mav.

“Fuck!—Jesus Christ!” He jumped as he passed a makeshift living area, where Ethan sat on the couch, wide awake and stock still. The longer hair and nondescript clothing were a clear departure from Mav’s usual style. “What are you doing here?”

“Just enjoying a quiet morning,” Ethan shrugged, his calm demeanor oddly fitting in the dim light of the hangar. Most of the lights were off, but sunlight filtered through, illuminating the space.

Bradley ran a hand through his hair, bemused. That was quintessentially Ethan—unfazed and unpredictable. “Where’s Mav?”

“He took his bike out for a ride. Said he ran out of the good coffee.” Ethan smiled as if this was perfectly normal.

“And you didn’t go with him?” Given their shared love for speed, it was surprising that Ethan had opted to stay behind.

“I’ve had enough motorcycles for a while. The last one didn’t end well,” he replied casually. The nonchalance made Bradley raise an eyebrow—what could Ethan possibly have done to total a bike and walk away unharmed?

“It wasn’t mine, so don’t worry,” Ethan added, sensing Bradley's concern and waving it off, which only deepened Bradley's confusion.

. ✰ .

Bonus:

“Mav, what does Ethan do?” Bradley asked one day, having watched the man come and go throughout his life—sometimes battered and other times radiant. Yet, he had never heard Ethan discuss his work.

Pete paused, setting down his pen and glancing up from the paperwork Cyclone had assigned him. Bradley often sought refuge in Mav’s cramped office to escape the Vice Admiral’s presence.

“He’s in government work. Used to be in the Army, then transferred to another division after his honorable discharge,” Pete replied, carefully avoiding the specifics. The IMF was not a topic for casual conversation.

“Huh.” Bradley frowned, skepticism etched on his face. That explanation didn’t clarify anything for him.

Bonus 2:

Average Bradley reaction to Ethan dropping random lore every time he’s around and never elaborating (no one tells him anything):

[writingouthere]

bestfriendsbrother!Sukuna x pregnant!reader one-shot

summary: you're excited to finally share with all your friends that your pregnant when the party is interrupted by your best friend's older brother, who you didn't invite, but who you did have unprotected sex with less than two months ago.

cw: reader is pregnant, Sukuna is a bad dude, possessive behavior, minor smut, still as usual nicer than it sounds because I can't help it.

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

"I'm pregnant!"

Your news is met with a period of silence before your friends look at each other, uncertain as to how to react.

Nobara finally breaks the silence, an eyebrow raised. "And we feel...."

"We're happy about it," you say and your friends are then quick to congratulate you. You hear some sort of scuffling happening behind you and you turn around to see Yuuji unfolding a "We're having a Baby!" banner which makes Megumi nearly jump out of his chair.

"Holy shit, did you two-"

"No!"

"Ew, no!"

Yuuji frowns at you. "The 'ew' wasn't necessary."

You and Nobara scoff. "It was," you tell him. "And I say that with all my love."

"Okay, so if this idiot didn't knock you up-"

"Hey!"

"-then who did?"

You'd been expecting the question and had prepared for it. "It was just a one night stand, he's not really father material." Everyone looks like they want to ask more questions so you smile at them, genuinely happy they all look ready to commit a crime for you. "It's okay, I have a good job and this is something I've wanted for a long time. This baby will be really loved because it will have me and, I hope, all of you."

Your friends are quick to agree and there's some lighter questions about potential names, nurseries and Nobara and Todo are looking at her phone debating baby onesies, when the door to you and Yuuji's apartment opens and someone you had definitely not invited comes in.

"Sukuna! You're late, you missed the big news," Yuuji calls out as he walks over and claps his brother on the back. A few people call out greetings as Yuuji's older brother looks around the apartment. His eyes linger on you for a second, a smirk tugging up on his lip before he notices the sign hanging crooked over the kitchen doorway and he laughs without an ounce of humor.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me, you knocked someone up? You irresponsible piece of shit-"

"It's not his and don't kill him, you asshole," Megumi says from where he has now joined the onesies discussion and points over at you. "It's the other person who lives here."

Sukuna pauses from where he was about to murder his brother, to look back over at you. You wonder if his brain is doing the same cursed math that you had done when you were hyperventilating, holding a stick covered in your own pee, but before he could ask anything, Maki ended the silent stand off.

"And we're happy about it, so get happy you piece of shit."

With that, the party continues on, people breaking off until little groups and snacks being placed strategically throughout the apartment.

You're feeling thirsty, and a little exhausted from the burning stare that's been directed at you for the past hour when you excuse yourself from where Miwa and Mechamaru had been talking about their own future plans for children, who you're sure would be socially inept but gorgeous enough to make up for it, and made your way to the kitchen.

You were pulling out some water, no alcohol for you even though you really needed it, when you felt someone's presence behind you.

"So when were you going to tell me we were having a baby?"

"Never, because it's not yours," you answered firmly, slamming the door to the fridge for good measure. Sukuna leaned against the cabinet next to you but you'd known him long enough to see the pose for what it was. A ruse, a performance of casualness. The fingers on his hand tapped against his arm like he was playing the piano, one of the few tics he had that showed when he was feeling, well just feeling anything in general.

"Oh please, you're not fucking anyone else."

"You don't know that and we're not fucking, we fucked once. Singular, past tense."

He laughed and looked down at you, the same predatory look he'd had the night he'd helped you make this child.

"And once was all it took huh? Fucked you so good, you're going to have my baby," he says, voice mocking and he stands up to his full height which puts him over you. He takes the glass of water you're really regretting now, and places it on the counter opposite the two of you.

"It-it's not your baby," but you don't sound sure and he knows it and he presses up against you until your back is to the counter. Nowhere for you to run.

"It's mine, just like you're mine. I don't know who you think you're kidding with this denial of me but it's done now, sweetheart."

You go to answer him and Sukuna covers your mouth with his hand like the rude fuck he is and then leans down, his mouth next to your ear. You look around, worried someone might see you but the gap between the fridge and the counter conceals you both and the room next to you keeps getting louder and louder. The sun had set and there were maybe some lamps in the living room, but here in the kitchen it was dark.

"I let you have your space and your time, two months of it actually. I let you have your little moral crisis about fucking a criminal and it being the best dick you've ever had wah wah, but I was impatient before I knew you were having my baby, and now," he leans back so his eyes, and they're on fire his eyes, are level with yours. "I'm done waiting."

You tug on Sukuna's hand and he rolls his eyes before removing it from your mouth and places it on your hip which doesn't seem like a good trade-off but at least you can speak again.

"What does that even mean?" You ask him, your voice showing the incredulity you're feeling but if Sukuna had anything, it was audacity.

"I mean I'll give you a week to tell your friends you're having our baby and that we're getting married." He says it so seriously that you can't help but laugh which seems to be the wrong response when his other hand moves to your hip as well and squeezes, tight.

"We are not getting married, are you out of your mind?"

"Why not, we're already having a baby, are you going to deny me the ability to live with my own child."

"Still not your kid, and we can't get married Sukuna. We never even dated! We fucked one time, that doesn't mean we should just be together forever."

"We fucked for one night, it was more than one time-"

"Not the argument you think it is," you interrupt him but you still let him pick you up and place you on the counter. You sit there while he runs his hands up and down your thighs, the sounds of the party washing over the two of you as you stay in your little bubble.

"We'd be good together," he finally says. "Not just because I knocked you up on the first try." You hit him but he just smirks and moves his hands more purposefully on your legs. You let him pull them apart and step between them even though warning bells are going off in your head, telling you these are moves you'd seen before and they had led to you being in the predicament the two of you were debating in the first place.

"It's inevitable, the two of us. You can say you hate me, or that I'm not a good man, and that's true. But there's a reason why you've never stayed with any of those nice boys," he says and his hands slips up the skirt you're wearing to get at your bare thighs underneath. "Because you don't want a nice guy, you don't want a good man, you want me and I'm too selfish to let you keep torturing both of us by doing this pretending shit."

The fingers on his right hand press against your cunt through your panties while his other hand squeezes your thigh and he moans sinfully into the quiet air.

"God, I knew I didn't make up this warm, wet cunt. Been fucking my fist until I chafed the past two months just thinking about it."

You whimper as he moves your underwear aside and slips one finger up and down your slit, not touching your clit or going where you want him, but doing enough that you move against his hand.

"This does not mean that we should get married," you protest and he teases a finger against your opening, pulling it back when your hips tilt up in an attempt to get him where you want.

"Why not? I heard pregnant women get super horny, what are you going to do without me around to make sure this filthy pussy gets stuffed just the way she needs." He finally slips one finger in, his thumb moving to tease against your clit, just the way you like it and your head smacks back against the cabinet. He moves the hand that had been on your thigh up so he can cradle your head.

"I'm sure I could find someone willing to help me out," you say scoffing and his hand freezes which makes you whine a little and try to get him to move again but his legs limit your range of motion.

"You ever try to fuck someone else ever again and the coroner is going to have to get dental records to figure out who the dumb fuck with no fingers, no eyes and no cock is, you got it?"

He's not joking, you know he's not joking but it doesn't stop you from leaning forward until you finally get your lips on his. He hums into your kiss, cupping your cheek in his free hand while the other one goes back to opening you up. You're so wet that the kitchen fills with the sounds of his him finger fucking your cunt but you can't even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. He's not wrong that pregnancy has made you more sensitive, or maybe it's just you not having gotten laid since the two of you had slept together.

He's got three fingers in you when you come and he swallows your moans greedily with mouth while his fingers slow inside of you, curving just right to make you think you could probably come again soon, oversensitive or not.

Before you can test that out, he pulls away from you. He licks the fingers he pulled out of you clean and you you're reminded of how the last time he'd made you come twice just with his mouth.

"Where are you going?" you ask him, a little more breathless than you like.

"We are going home," he tells you, grabbing your hands and helping you down off the counter. Giving you a kiss on your forehead that you would tease him for if you were anyone else.

"Home?" you ask, confused because you are currently standing in your apartment unless his orgasms suddenly give one the power to teleport.

"Yeah, our home, not the shitty apartment you share with my brother. I mean we'll have to get somewhere bigger soon, for our baby."

For the first time since you found out you were pregnant, someone who was not you laid out their palm on your still just the same stomach. There was no change from how it always looked but Sukuna looked smug just the same and you felt like you were still missing a few things.

"What-"

"I mean I can fuck you here, I just thought your sensibilities and the fact your friends were all out there would make you uncomfortable."

Your post orgasm flush finally leaves you and you look up at him in panic. "Oh my god, do you think someone saw-"

"It's okay, Fushiguro kept them out I'm sure."

You don't want to know but ask anyway. "Why?"

"Because he walked in earlier and looked like he'd seen a ghost. Tell me, is the kid still a virgin? He's pretty but I can't imagine he has a lot of good options in your crowd."

When you leave to go to Sukuna's, the only people who don't look confused(or horrified in Yuuji's case) at your departure are Maki and Megumi.

If the confusion hadn't been cleared up by the time the baby came, the pink hair probably answered any follow up questions.

dealing with some writer's block and had this idea. didn't feel like writing a whole smut scene, my b but saving that energy for the next(?) neighborsukuna x singlemom one.

side note: Megumi is scarred for life, for sure. Yuuji gets over his horror once he's an uncle.

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

-

part four

[yinyuedijun]

ZERO-SUM GAME

It’s different with Aventurine. You like being his luxury hand watch. You like being his elegant knife, his liar’s dice, his pretty poker chip. You want to be his object—the object of his affections, something he can parade around just like his expensive suits and his beautiful jewellery and his ostentatious furs. Look at me, he uses them to say. Look at what I own. Look at what I own despite this code on my neck. Look at what I've won despite my eyes and my blood. (Or: Aventurine wins you in a game of poker. He decides to cash out his prize right then and there—to enjoy you on the card table, laid out among all the chips and cards.)

8.6k words of psychological issues, explicit smut, and deranged characterization. aventurine tops, reader bottoms. public sex, voyeurism from strangers, piv, oral (reader receiving), fingering with gloves on, creampie. mild dubcon but the reader is ultimately into it. afab gn reader, they are playing a fem-coded role for an espionage assignment (dress, heels, makeup). themes of objectification. discussion of slavery and sa during slavery (not explicit). dead dove do not eat, mdni.

You are in the grandest casino of Kinyoshi Moon Colony, and Aventurine is running your latest husband into life-ruining debt.

You aren’t cut up about it. If your marriage (or concubinage, rather) were genuine, you'd maybe be annoyed about the loss of capital. But as it is, this relationship is an assignment from the IPC—one of the longest and most excruciatingly boring yet. Fortunately for you, Aventurine’s presence tonight means that you've finally gathered enough intel for Diamond’s needs. It is time for the IPC to terminate your latest contract, and Aventurine is here to collect you.

Which is a little funny, given your relationship. It is strange sitting across from your boyfriend, draped over another man and thoroughly ignoring him. You’re entirely focused on fawning over your husband instead—laughing into his ear, lighting his pipe and filling his whiskey glass, and oh, Mister Li, you're so funny, you're so clever, I think you should go all in!—but Aventurine doesn't react. He only smiles at the two of you, like he isn't bothered by the sight.

This is, of course, an act: when you came home from your last marriage (assignment), he'd made sure to pleasure you so thoroughly that you forgot all about your ex-husband (mark). Aventurine did not openly admit to any kind of jealousy at the time, but you could tell he hadn't been keen on letting another man touch you. He usually isn't too keen about anyone touching any of his things, in fact. Despite appearances, he always abhors the thought of losing anything important.

But any fears he might have are concealed right now. They’re always concealed. Hidden by the expensive suit, the countless stacks of chips, the golden walls and high-vaulted ceilings of the Venetian Zhijin, Masked by his generous gifts, his easy laughter, his careless frivolity. You can see right through his gilded smile. The rest of the table cannot.

They are all intrigued when Aventurine asks, a playful lilt in his voice, “How about we make this game a little more interesting, gentleman?”

The other players at the table consider him. The other plus-ones—concubines, courtesans, gigolos, and so on—look at him with calculated expressions of cursory interest. You do so as well, but only for a moment. Your gaze quickly returns to Mister Li’s face—your husband is meant to be your true focus, after all, not the game. You are not a player at this table, but an accessory. Closer to an expensive watch than a human being.

Some business magnate from the Triangulum Galaxy leans back and raises a brow. “I'm listening,” he says. You watch a bead of sweat travel down your husband’s neck.

“How about we up the ante,” Aventurine says, his voice light, “but instead of betting more money this time, we bet our dates?”

You think, in other star systems, other worlds, such a suggestion would invite riot. But Kinyoshi Colony being what it is, and the Venetian being the establishment that it is, the other players at the table only laugh. Nearly half of them deal in the trade of human beings anyway—this is nothing novel for them.

“Well,” one of them says, “it’s not like winning more money’s gonna make a difference to any of us.” A round of chuckling. He turns to his date—some noblewoman from Jarilo-IV who seems greatly out of her depth—and says, “What do you think, love? How do you feel about being part of my wager?”

She doesn't like it. She clearly doesn't like it, and she also clearly doesn't know how to say it. Were you not on the clock, you might intervene. Maybe. As it is, though, all you can do is observe quietly. All the power in this gambit lies with Aventurine. Even when surrounded by men who manipulate the wealth of entire cities, planets, galaxies—he remains in full control.

“There’s never any shame in folding,” he says, magnanimous. Then he looks your husband in the eye, smiling conspiratorially. “But I know there are some of us who aren't afraid to take risks.”

Li laughs. “You’re right about that, Mister Aventurine.” He gives you a fond smile. And of course he does—you’re his last shot at winning back all his losses for the night. “I think you'd make a pretty little chip, don't you?”

Although Mister Li is clearly less distressed at the thought of betting you than he was at the thought of betting his company just last round, you notice, out of the corner of your eye, a muscle in Aventurine’s neck twitching. It’s very, very subtle, and he'd have never let himself do it if the table’s attention were on him, but he did it. Perhaps it was involuntary. Your mouth curls.

“Sure, darling.” You try not to sound too giddy. “I’ll be whatever you like.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn't be so happy about this farce. This is, put plainly, a stupid way to extract you from your mission. Were the cards in anyone else’s hands, your husband could win and you might be stuck with him for another several weeks, at least—assuming that you aren't discovered and killed first. Or you could go home with another man and be subjected to the kind of things that men do when they trade human beings, and you don't think the IPC would care too much if you were. You are an asset before you are a person, after all. At this table, you are closer to an expensive watch than a human being—and at the Company, you are an overpriced knife.

But to Aventurine, you're a chip in one of his games, and you don't mind that so much. Men who only know wealth will throw around their riches thoughtlessly, but men who have endured poverty will hold onto them tightly—desperately. Aventurine takes care of his luxury watches, his elegant knives, his liar’s dice. His capital. And he never loses anything. He always comes to collect. You trust him to collect you, even with this stupid plan, so you are calm as you watch the dealer shuffle the cards.

The table makes their bets. Most of the players go all-in. A couple fold, perhaps feeling some degree of concern for their partners, but it's more likely that they just have shit hands. A lot of the ones who continue playing have shit hands anyway. Your husband doesn't do too badly—a straight flush. He seems confident.

Then Aventurine lays out his cards. Ten. Joker. Queen. King. Ace.

All hearts.

You have to take a sip of your whiskey to stop yourself from laughing.

Aventurine, himself, has the grace not to look too smug about the outcome. Or maybe it's very unremarkable for him, all these winnings being pushed over to him—poker chips and human beings. Some of the other dates are clearly anxious as they move toward him (they are expected to be loyal to their husbands), and some are clearly excited (they are expected to be frivolous, hedonistic playthings). He humours them all, for a little while. Puts on the usual show as they crowd around him, charms them because it'll be good for business partnerships in case any of their husbands care even a little bit about them. You'd do the same in his shoes. But in your current ones (six-inch heels, black leather, red bottoms, luxury), all you can do is seat yourself on the card table and light up a cigarette. Waiting.

Aventurine eventually sends them all off. All I wanted was to get to know you, he says cheerfully, which is probably not a lie. After they leave, he asks the dealer to close the table and go on break. Turn a blind eye. You raise a brow when they obey him.

How interesting.

You're still enjoying your cigarette by the time he turns to you. You flash him a smile, one of the ones that you use for work. His expression doesn't change, but his thumb brushes against one of his many rings—switching off your synesthesia beacons for some privacy—and he leans back to study you. You know he's admiring you, but it could be mistaken for a leer.

“Well, well,” he says, “If it isn’t the esteemed concubine of Li Fengzhi.”

“The esteemed fifth concubine,” you correct. He hums, looking surprised.

“I thought you were the fourth. Did I misremember?”

“No, just misinformed. He took another concubine right before I arrived on Kinyoshi. He acquired a sixth just last week. Turns out he picks up paramours like they’re strays.”

“How inconvenient.”

“It made no difference to me,” you dismiss. “I’m his favourite anyway, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

“I’d have had to be blind not to notice it. You have the man wrapped around your finger.” Aventurine leans back, studying you as you smoke on your perch. “But before we continue—why don’t you come a little closer, esteemed Fifth Concubine?”

You make a face. “That title doesn’t sound as nearly as flattering in Avgin dialect as it does in Zhijinese,” you note, though you get off the table anyway. You don’t go very far, electing to seat yourself on his lap, your arms draping around his shoulders. The feathers of his jacket tickle at your bare shoulders; the satin of his gloves glide down the skin of your thighs before settling on your calves. “Since you’ve won my company for the night, though,” you sigh, “I suppose I can humour you, Mister Aventurine.”

“Lucky me.” He leans in, his breath sweeping the shell of your ear. His fragrance surrounds you, your body warming at the familiar scent of ambergris and vanilla. You realize, all of a sudden, how much you missed it. You have to stop yourself from pressing your face into his neck and melting—it would be a dead giveaway for your identity and also too revealing of your feelings. Aventurine might be endeared by it, but he might also find it disconcerting. He often needs to be tricked into intimacy.

He does enjoy being wanted though, and he can obviously tell that you want him. He pulls you closer, one of his hands giving your thigh a generous squeeze. It makes you throw your head back in a laugh, exposing the soft skin of your throat. You aren't surprised when he takes the opportunity to kiss it, his lips gentle against your pulse.

“You’re being very forward,” you tease him. “Did you miss me?”

“I’m just trying to be careful,” he defends himself between kisses, his breath warm on your skin. “We should try to conceal our mouths as much as possible. No one can intercept our synesthesia beacons, but someone could still read our lips.”

You give him a funny look. “We’re the only two speakers of Avgin in the known universe. Who could, other than ourselves, could read our—mmph…”

Aventurine has caught the rest of your sentence with his mouth. He’s hungry and wanting for you, the heat of his lips overwhelming. Your tongue is as practised as his, but you find yourself too distracted by your thrill to focus, your kiss wet and eager. Messy. Unprofessional.

You’ve never kissed any of your husbands like this. You’ve never kissed any of your other owners like this. You feel dazed when he pulls away.

You compose yourself. “So you did miss me.”

He smiles. “Guilty as charged.” A gloved hand rests on your face, satin tracing your lips. “How could I not? You’ve been away from the house for so long.”

Your eyes narrow. There’s no idiom for this in Avgin, so you flip briefly to Interastral Standard: “Pot, kettle, black. You leave home all the time.” You smack away the hand at your waist, petty. He looks amused. “And you almost always die.”

He switches out his smile for a pout. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last time.”

“You nearly got yourself blasted with atomics, so yes, I’m still mad at you.”

Now he’s frowning. “Am I going back to sleeping on the couch when you come back?”

“Yes,” you say. His deepening frown is meant to be read as a joke, but you know better. Deciding to throw him a bone, you lean in, whispering playfully into his ear: “You can still fuck me on it though.”

Aventurine hums, as if considering. His hands traverse your sides as he contemplates your suggestion. You move to straddle him, your thighs squeezed around his hips. When you grind against him, you can feel how much he wants you despite his composure, his control—his length straining in his pants, pressed against the silk covering your core.

“I don’t think I can wait long enough to fuck you on the couch,” he says, voice teasing.

“No?” You hum as his hands travel upward, feeling every inch of you. “The ship on the way home, then?”

“We don’t leave until tomorrow. Do you really think I can wait that long?”

You don't expect to feel the warmth of his hands on your chest. Your breath hitches when he starts palming your tits through your dress, neon eyes admiring the curve of them. One of his thumbs skims over the peak of your breast, and his mouth curls when your nipple hardens. “No bra? That's convenient.”

“I—” You squirm in his grip, whining. It just makes you grind against his lap more, your cunt moving against his slacks. A wave of heat runs through your lower half, and you clench around nothing. You can see people from a nearby table glancing at you, doing double takes. You can feel their lingering gazes on you, and you know Aventurine can too.

“I—are you going to”—your voice shakes as he pinches your nipple, as his other hand moves to squeeze your ass instead. Your dress is short—designed for easy access—and his fingertips easily skim the underside of its skirt. You wonder if he’s going to pull it up. You wonder if he's going to go even further than that.

But that would be an absurd thing to do in the middle of the busiest casino in the colony, which also happens to be the busiest trade hub in its star system. It would be absurd even for the two of you. Nevermind the reactions of the other players in the room—the staff here would immediately blacklist you, and so would every other gambling house in Kinyoshi.

You try to calm yourself. “Are you—ah—going to take me upstairs?”

He's fully kneading your breasts now. You can feel your clit throbbing, your body responding to his rough and unrepentant touch. “Hm… I don't think I want to.” Aventurine’s voice drops. His smile takes on a distinctly wicked quality. “I think I'll take you right here.”

“But we’ll get kicked out,” you whine. Even as you protest though, you're panting and moving your hips now. Grabbing at his arms, rutting against him like you're in heat. His fingers hook around the thin straps of your dress, pull them down your shoulders, already starting to indulge despite your reservations. You bend into his touch.

“Kicked out? By who? The staff?” He smiles, as always. “I own the place now. I don't think they'll be giving me trouble.”

“Y—you what?” For a moment, you're too shocked to keep up the wanton show. “You do? Since when?”

“Since last night.” He thumbs one of the straps that's fallen halfway down your arms. The rest of your dress threatens to come down with it. “Technically it's the IPC who acquired it—or, well, their shell company did—but I'm their designated representative here. I signed the contract.”

“The IPC isn’t going to be upset that you're fucking a concubine, who's not even your concubine, on their new property?”

Aventurine shrugs. “They know the kind of establishment the Venetian is. People gamble with humans here all the time, you know, so this has definitely happened before. The IPC definitely expects it to happen again. And besides”—he returns his attention to your dress, starting to slip the fabric down your shoulders—“I'm just cashing out my winnings. I'm sure they wouldn't deny a gambler his vices. That'd be bad business.”

You want to say more, but then he tugs, suddenly exposing you. You’re bare in front of him—in front of everyone. You can feel eyes on you. Heat curls in your gut as he grabs your tits again, his satin gloves smooth across your skin, and your nipples pebble beneath them. “Hm… much better.”

“But…” You bite your lip, glancing around. There are so many people watching now—so many voyeurs, who've forgotten about their games and their slots. Though there are a greater number of people who are continuing as usual, studying their hands, smoking their cigarettes, unperturbed. All regulars and VIPs, you know from your intelligence.

Aventurine pauses as you catalogue the room, raising a brow. Probably he's surprised at your sudden modesty; you usually have none when his touch is involved.

“Of course,” he adds, “if you'd rather enjoy the suite upstairs…”

“No—I don’t mind staying down here… it's just that I’ve never…”

Your voice trails off. Your eyes traverse the space again. There are people who’ve fully thrown their cards down, greedily drinking in the sight of you instead. Even some of the dealers are watching between hands, glancing at you instead of watching for cheaters. Like this is public entertainment, like you're a show.

Aventurine tilts his head.

“You've never had sex with an audience?” he guesses. He sounds surprised—perplexed. You don't know why. You know he knows it's a stupid question. You know he knows the answer.

You had sex in front of people all the time before you met him. You did it for the exact reasons that he’s almost certainly done the same. To this table of business magnates, you are closer to an expensive watch than a human being; to the IPC, you are more like an overpriced knife; to this gambling hall, you're an interesting sideshow.

To your captors who fucked you in public, you guess you were something like a toy.

The thought sitting in your mouth is this: you've never had sex with an audience and enjoyed it. It was painful—not painful for the heart or the mind or anything else sentimental, but painful like it felt you were a fish being gutted open by a knife. And even beyond that physical pain, you simply didn't enjoy being passed around. You didn't like being owned by those people. You didn't like being an object for their entertainment, a spectacle to be consumed.

But it's different with Aventurine. You like being his luxury hand watch. You like being his elegant knife, his liar’s dice, his pretty poker chip. You like being his plaything, spread for his viewing whenever he wants. You want to be his object—the object of his affections, something he can parade around just like his expensive suits and his beautiful jewellery and his ostentatious furs. Look at me, he uses them to say. Look at what I own. Look at what I own despite this commodity code on my neck. Look at what I've won despite my eyes and my blood.

You want him to own you too. You want him to show everyone that he won you, that he bought you, that you're his possession now. That he, and he alone, is free to treat you like a toy.

You're getting wetter just thinking about it.

“Nevermind,” you whisper. “Let's do it.”

His smile widens ever so slightly. Slyer than usual.

“Good,” he says. He guides you into standing. “Let’s get you settled then.”

You're seated back on the card table. The cigarette is forgotten in the ashtray next to you. Aventurine takes the time to straighten out your dress, lifting the straps back up and affording you some modesty—before he gently lays you out.

You look up at him as you're spread in front of him, laid out next to his royal flush and winnings. Like you're another chip in his stacks, the most expensive one. He puts a hand beneath your leg, drapes it over his shoulder. He takes the opportunity to kiss your calf, his lips delicate.

You glance at the tables around you. You watch the business owners and politicians as they watch Aventurine. You watch them as they watch your boyfriend pepper kisses up your leg, unless he's settling in between them. Your thighs spread easily for him, and you don't resist as he hikes up your skirt.

Then he frowns.

“I’ve never seen these panties before.”

“They’re new,” you relay.

“From your husband?”

“Yup.”

“I see.”

You can't see his face, but he sounds distinctly displeased. You expect him to complain, to say they're not expensive enough or not designer enough or just plain ugly.

You don't expect him to tear them right off.

“Aventurine?!”

You're so surprised you sit up, just in time to see him throw tatters of silk to the floor.

“What?” He looks up at you, expression unbothered, almost mild. “It wasn't your colour.”

Your mouth opens. “But it was still very nice!”

“I'll buy you nicer ones later. I’ll buy you a whole drawer of nicer ones later, when we’re done here.”

He looks down again, humming. Your cheeks flush as he spreads your legs again, baring your glistening sex to him—this time completely bare. Satin glides along the inside of your thighs, and your breath hitches when he reaches their apex. You feel the light touch of a finger along your opening, and you feel your body responding, tightening around nothing.

“Tell me,” he says, “What else did your husband do with you?”

His voice is casual, almost disinterested, but you know Aventurine is listening carefully.

“Not much,” you answer truthfully. “I haven't cum in months, you know.”

“Oh?” He sounds surprised. “You don't have sex with him?”

“No. He's fucked me a lot. It”—you whimper, pausing when you feel his fingers spreading you open, fluttering hole and swollen clit exposed to him—“it just wasn't very good.”

“Then”—you feel a thumb press against your clit, and you swallow—“he never touched you here?”

“N-no.”

“Stupid of him.” He’s drawing slow, lazy circles into the bud now, making you squirm on the table. You press yourself eagerly toward his familiar touch, having desperately missed it for months. Aventurine, perhaps sensing your neediness, asks, “And you didn't touch yourself?”

“He didn't let me,” you whine, and now he's frowning at you.

“I knew I should have gotten you out of there sooner,” he says, and you have to bite back a laugh. Aventurine’s mouth curls at the sound, and he leans in to place a kiss on your thigh. “But that’s fine. I'll make it up to you now.”

Aventurine kisses are soft and precise. They pepper a path up your thigh while his fingers continue to play lazily with your clit. You want—need—to feel something inside you, but he doesn't oblige. His fingers merely run along your entrance, teasing your dripping pussy with luxury satin, and that's all they do, even as your hips buck needily toward him.

He pauses for just a moment. When you look at him, you see him staring at you—at the brand on your inner thigh, the commodity code that your captors left on you, branding you as a product to be used and sold.

His voice is almost soft when he asks, “And what did your husband say when he saw this?”

“He never did,” you reply. “He always fucked me from behind. And he never went down on me.” You pause, thinking about the way he spoke of his business. Of his trade partners. Of what your captors had done to your home when you told him about it, feigning intimacy only to be matched in cruelty. You think about the way he fucked you, how it felt to be gutted open on his expensive, silk sheets.

None of it matters to you, really. This is behaviour that you’ve long accepted, that your body always anticipates. But you always like to offer Aventurine intimacy, whether real or feigned, whether he returns it equally or responds with undeserved cruelty: “I think it wouldn't have bothered him if he had noticed it.”

You can't see Aventurine’s eyes, but you can feel his reaction when he places a chaste kiss on your product code.

“I should have gotten you out of there sooner,” he repeats. Then he pauses. “Maybe I shouldn't have let you go at all.”

“I didn't mind,” you say. You aren't lying. “You gave me up for a reason.”

He stands. Cups your face with a palm, luxuriant fabric and gold rings pressed against your skin. Sometimes he's given up the aventurine stone temporarily for assignments, parting with it in elaborate gambles that he always manages to win. The way he’s touching you now reminds you of the way he holds the gem whenever it returns to his hand.

“Well,” he says, “I’m sorry it took so long to get you back.”

Aventurine tilts your chin up for a kiss. You meet it eagerly, and it's so tender in its familiarity that every memory of your husband fades. There's only Aventurine, and his gentle mouth, and the way his hands slide your dress down again, how he palms your breasts again. How he teases one nipple with his expensive rings until you're moaning into his mouth. How his other hand travels down until his gloved hand is cupping your heat. You drag your hips against his touch, desperately seeking some kind of friction, your wetness drenching the cloth. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your body aching to be filled by him, aching in a way that it does for no one else.

It’s one of the most addictive feelings you've ever known.

Aventurine only stops touching you so he can push away all the chips, clearing space on the table. He ignores the cacophony as countless stacks fall over, not sparing the plastic coins a single glance. Like you're the only prize that matters to him, even though the sum of his winnings come out to more than you ever were worth.

He lays you out on the table again, flat on your back, exposed, before kissing a path down your body—your neck, your breasts, your stomach, between your thighs. He deigns to give your product code one more kiss, his lips so gentle that it makes you tremble—and then he finally puts his mouth on you. He licks a hot stripe from your dripping pussy up to the crest of your sex, and your eyes close in bliss.

If you felt any uncertainty before this, it's completely gone now. Your hands ghost over your tits, playing with them as Aventurine’s tongue plays with you. He sucks on your neglected clit, fingers squeezing your thighs, keeping you spread open and still for him. He presses in, lets you drag your cunt over his greedy mouth and grind your clit against his face. Heat and pressure coil tight in your belly as he pleasures you, your body flushing with the kind of bliss only Aventurine can give you. You’re so lost in it that you almost don’t notice how quiet the rest of the hall has gotten, the cacophony of chatter and slot machines oddly subdued—almost missing. In their absence, the obscene noises that Aventurine is drawing from your mouth and body are louder than they should be.

The pleasure in your belly is just starting to swell when he pulls away. You give him a pleading look as he leans over you, but before you can start begging for more, you feel his fingers press against your heat. He watches you with keen eyes as he starts rubbing your pussy, maybe enjoying the desperate noises you make at his touch. You buck your hips, moaning as your clit and entrance grind against the fabric of his gloves, seeking friction. You’re empty, aching, desperate to be filled, but you think you can finish like this, just by rutting against his satin fingers—

Aventurine withdraws his hand, and you whine.

“No,” you beg, “please, please keep going, I was getting close—”

He raises a brow, feigning surprise. “Keep going?” He brings up his hand, shows you his gloves. The satin is soaked, shiny and stained with your slick. “I don't think I should. Look at what a mess you’ve made of my gloves.” Aventurine hums, frowning. “These are designer, you know. And limited—there are only 95 pairs of these in the whole universe. And you're ruining them.”

“I'm sorry,” you say, mind so fogged with lust that you can't even return his teasing. “I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, I'll do anything, just—just let me cum—”

“Anything?” His smile is sly.

“Anything.”

“Well. I suppose if you help me clean this up, I wouldn't mind rewarding you with more.”

You don't need to ask what he means by that. When he holds out his hand to you, runs a finger along your lips, you obediently open your mouth for him. Your tongue slides along the wet satin, only making his glove messier—but he seems not to mind. He merely watches intently as your tongue cleans his fingers, taking in the obscene image of you hungrily lapping your own slick off the expensive fabric.

He lets you ruin his glove thoroughly before finally drawing back, peeling it off.

“I'm not sure that did any good,” he says, frowning. “I’ll probably need to buy a new pair. But”—he pulls away, and you feel him settle between your legs again, his hands spreading them. “I'll still reward you for the effort.”

Aventurine is quick about getting his mouth back on you. His tongue is hot on your skin, expertly teasing your clit. You feel his fingers running along your entrance again, growing sticky with his need. He laughs when you press your hips toward his hand, desperate to be filled.

Then he's pressing his bare fingers into your heat, and your back is arching off the table.

The moan you let out is obscene. It only gets worse when his fingers curl, making the pressure in your belly even heavier. Utterly shameless, you beg for him as he fucks you with his fingers: Aventurine, please, please, I need more, please, I'm so close, I'm so close.

As if taking pity on you, his mouth finds your clit again, his fingers pressing into your sweet spot at the same time. And he doesn't let up, pushing into it even when you think you can't take anymore—tongue swirling against your overstimulated bud, fingers making you gush uncontrollably. You practically sob when you cum, a noise of desperation that echoes in the gambling hall.

His smile looks a little fonder than usual—or maybe just entertained—as he stands again and leans over you. You taste your own release in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, and he strokes your face when he pulls away.

“So good for me,” he praises. “Are you going to let me do more?”

You nod eagerly. “Whatever you like,” you say, all sense of shame gone from your body, “and however you want.”

Aventurine’s mouth curls. “Your husband fucked you from behind, right? Why don't you bend over for me, then? Let's show him how he should have been doing it.”

You see the diamond pupils of Aventurine’s eyes glance off to the side, where, sure enough, your husband is spectating with some of his business partners. You force yourself to turn away before you can smile, hiding your expression from the other men. You’re not meant to derive any real pleasure from any of this, let alone pleasure of the vindictive kind. Your relationship with Aventurine is supposedly nothing but a gambler and his newly won, human plaything. It would be suspicious if you appeared to be anything else.

You slink off the table in a distinctly performative way, and Aventurine plays equally into the show—probably an act as familiar to him as it is to you. He guides you into turning around, your eyes falling on the scattered cards on the tabletop, the casino’s eyes falling on you. His hands waste no time in pulling down your dress and reaching around to knead your breasts, in full view of the rest of the gambling hall. You're only vaguely aware of your audience now, registering the interested, hungry stares, but not really caring. You're too focused on the way that Aventurine is tugging and twisting at your nipples, at how he’s pressed up against your ass, his cock straining through his pants. You grind needily against him, whining.

Aventurine kisses your shoulder. “Poor thing. You've been neglected for so long, haven't you?” His hands retreat, and you hear the sound of a zipper being undone. Then your skirt’s being pushed up and you're being bent over, your dripping pussy fully presented to him. When you feel the press of his cockhead against your entrance, you desperately try to push yourself back onto him. But he doesn't allow you to—only running the tip along your wet folds, still sticky from your release, while he stills you with a gentle touch on your hip.

You make a pathetic, desperate noise. Aventurine chuckles, though there’s now a breathy quality to his voice.

“Be patient,” he chides. “I'll take care of you.”

You know he will. He always takes care of you, in a way that no one else ever has. Even when he gambles your life for some mission, even when he can barely afford you the barest hints of intimacy, even when he displays your body to an audience of slave traders and murderers—he always takes care of you. Even if you are only a knife or a wristwatch or a chip in one of his games, he still treats you like you're worth holding onto.

Aventurine finally moves. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his cock sliding into you. Usually he needs to be careful after your long missions away from him, knowing you'll be tense. He understands that your body always anticipates being in pain after being touched by other people. But he has you so worked up right now—still dripping from your release, still pliant from his fingers, still eager to please him before the crowd—that your cunt easily swallows his length. The stretch is pure bliss, pleasure unfurling in your body as you're filled up properly for the first time in months. He's just as affected as you, breath shaking as he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he breathes—laughs. “Nearly forgot how good this feels.” He pauses, his breathing slowing—almost stopping each time you squeeze around him. You turn back, throwing him a pleading glance, and he meets it with an endeared smile. “Eager today, aren't you?” He hums, a hand sliding along your waist. “You really do need to be properly fucked.”

He's stalling. Trying to give you a moment to adjust, but you don't need it. “Yes,” you encourage him. Aching for the press of his cock against your walls, you grind against him, and you hear a strangled groan as you force him to move inside you. “Please, Aventurine—please, please fuck me, I need it so badly—”

He hums, both hands grabbing your hips, his fingers sinking into you. “Well. Since you asked so nicely.”

The first thrust has your eyes going wide, your hands reaching for the card table as you’re forced to bend over. You spread our palms next to the mess of heart cards and shiny tokens, bracing yourself for the way your body’s about to be used. He doesn't give you time to breathe after, each stroke filling you deep and fast. The rest of the gambling hall grows very, very quiet as Aventurine fucks you, and suddenly all you can hear is the appreciative murmur of the crowd, clink of ice cubes in aged whiskey, the noisy flick of lighters as more patrons opt to pause their games and enjoy the show. You hear the shattering of all the stacks beside you, hundreds of thousands of dollars in chips fall over beside you, tokens clinking as they roll across the tabletop. But all of that is soon drowned out by the wet noise of your pussy being fucked open, the squelch of your slick around his cock. You moan each time he bottoms out, eager to be filled.

When you feel his cock press into your sweet spot, your moans quickly turn into cries.

You hear something like a breathy laugh from Aventurine. Your body always reveals itself so easily to him, and you know he enjoys it. He hits that spot again and again, builds an agonizing tension in your body with every thrust of his hips. It has your pussy gushing around him, your thighs growing wet and sticky with your need.

Just when it feels like you can't take anymore, he reaches down and presses his fingers against your throbbing clit. Your knees buckle as he toys with you, chest heaving against the table as he sets a brutal pace. You're—overwhelmed, mind going hazy as you're fucked mercilessly. So far gone, you can hardly register the disgruntled expression of your husband, the hungry gazes of his companions, the way that other players are starting to shift in their seats, palming themselves at the sight of your pussy being split open. There's only the tight coil in your gut, the chips between your fingers as you grab uselessly for something to ground you, the cock that's filling you over and over and over—and oh fuck, you’re going to cum, you're really going to cum after being won in a game, from having your pussy used like a sleeve, from being watched by men who will never own you no matter how many times they trade you, no matter how many times they fuck you, no matter how many times they pass you around, because you'll only ever belong to Aventurine—

Your orgasm crashes through your body, and you sob.

It's a broken, blissed out noise. Your pussy is equally shameless, gushing as you pulse around Aventurine’s cock. You go limp as he fucks you through your orgasm, uncaring about the mess you're making. He only groans as you squirt all over him, hips stuttering as he reaches his own peak—spilling himself inside you, pumping you full. Aventurine’s body slumps over yours as rides out his high, his face pressing into your shoulder. You find the wherewithal to shift yourself, just enough to your lips against the tattoo on his neck. He looks at you for a fleeting moment, the blue ring of his eyes electric on you, before capture your mouth in a desperate, messy kiss.

The two of you stay there for a long moment, panting into each other. Then Aventurine collects himself, remembers how to talk: “Fuck.”

You piece yourself together just as easily. Maybe even faster. Smiling into his mouth, you ask, “Enjoy yourself?”

“Clearly.” Aventurine presses his lips into your neck, lingering only briefly. “Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

Aventurine takes his time with moving, as if basking in the afterglow—or bragging in it. But he does rise, eventually. Pulls out slowly, making you shudder. He helps you to your feet, lets you hold onto him for support. His spend drips down your thighs as you right yourself, messy and hot on your skin. You can feel it sliding down your legs as you walk, braced against Aventurine as he guides you in the long walk toward the elevator. It slips all the way down to your calves, to your expensive heels, even onto the marble floor.

You're fairly certain that it's not an accident when Aventurine flips up your skirt as you pass your ex-husband. At the very least, it isn't a mistake when you stumble in that same moment, bending over and giving him a good look at your well-used pussy, now overfilled with your boyfriend’s cum. You don't stop to look at him, but you know he must be red-faced, displeased—aware that he’s been humiliated. Beaten by a Stoneheart, concubine stolen by Sigonian, one of his favourite possessions claimed by a former slave. You'd laugh if you could.

You can't help but kiss Aventurine while the two of you wait for the elevator, a smile glowing into his lips.

It's absurd, but a staff member approaches the two of you as you indulge in one another. Aventurine pulls away as you’re approached, looking mildly annoyed as he switches on his synesthesia beacon.

“Sir,” the staff says, “you’ve left your other winnings at the table.”

Even in his post-orgasm bliss, Aventurine responds promptly. “I’ll cash it all,” he says. “Send the money to my room. I'm not coming back tomorrow.”

“Very well. And the terms of the… human resource exchange that just happened?”

Aventurine’s jaw clicks. It's quiet, but surprising. You watch him carefully.

“We didn't bet contracts,” he says. “This is a concubine, not a slave. But tell Mister Li I'll buy them anyway. I'll pay whatever price he wants, which I’d wager is the company that he gambled and lost to me. Maybe suggest that to him.”

“Of course,” the staff member replies, bowing. Despite the first-rate service, Aventurine looks like he can't get out of there sooner enough as he guides you into the elevator. You give him a curious look as the door closes.

“You're going to give up a multiplanetary corporation just for this?” you ask.

“Not entirely. The IPC was planning to acquire it anyway. It'll be ours again in a few months.” He stares at your reflections in the mirror, his strange eyes lingering on your dishevelled form. “We’ll put your intel to good use,” he adds, and although Jade or Diamond or any of your real bosses would say this with a smile and reward you with a bonus, Aventurine’s expression is unreadable.

“What's on your mind?” you ask, fingers brushing against his hand. “You’re worried about something.”

Aventurine blinks, and it takes him a moment to recover.

“Nothing. Just hoping we didn't give our relationship away just now.” He cups your face with a hand, guides you into looking at his smile. A deflection. “I might have gotten carried away.”

You lean into his touch, eyes playful: a performance. As if he's some stranger that you're servicing, a captor being entertained; as if you're a plaything about to be used. As if you expect to be treated like the disposable commodity that your husband just gambled away.

“I wouldn't worry,” you reassure him. “I'm sure after the show we put on, it'll be clear to anyone that you're only keeping me around for sex.”

It's very, very subtle, but a muscle in Aventurine's neck twitches. He'd never allow it in a game of cards, never before the IPC, never before the prying eyes of slavers and killers—but he allows it in front of you. He always unwittingly bares himself to you, even as he swallows his discomfort before adopting his usual, vulpine expression. You don't think anyone else would notice what lies beneath the gilded surface of his smile, his liar’s eyes. You don't think anyone else would notice his tells, his vulnerabilities, his quiet fear of loss.

After all, there is no one else in this universe who knows how to trick him into intimacy.

Winning has always come with a certain emptiness for Aventurine. Gambling is, after all, a zero sum game. He plays a royal flush and people lose their homes. Winner takes all. He survives the fighting pits, his blade dripping red with the lives of other slaves. Winner takes all. He runs from the stench of blood and burning flesh, praying for thunder and rain loud enough to drown the screams of his dying kin. Winner takes all.

He alone survives. He alone enjoys his riches. Ever since the Avgin died, he has always been by himself. There is no amount of coin nor credit that will ever change this.

Here is another unyielding fact that hollows any win: that no matter how many credits he collects, he will always be a chip himself. He will always be a plastic token worth sixty coppers. Gambling is a zero-sum game, and ever since the day he was chained, Aventurine has been the pool of riches divided among winners. He has always been the commodity being traded between hands. He has always been the prize to be cashed out and used. Even now, with all this money and power, it will never be him who comes to collect: it will always be the IPC. Winner takes all.

Such is his fate. Luck is always on his side, but he has always had the losing hand against destiny. No matter how many times he wins, there is nothing that will ever truly belong to him.

But then he met you.

Then he met you, and now his luck does not always feel like such a cruel or empty thing. Now the zero-sum game has meaning. He hedges his bets in the market and buys out a planet, and acquires you along with the shares. Winner takes all. He gambles his life against a nuclear power and comes out on top, and the IPC allows him to keep you by his side. Winner takes all. He plays a royal flush and wins at a table of slave traders, and he gets to fuck you until you can't think of any cock but his own. Winner takes all.

Gambling is a zero-sum game, and when you're the reward, Aventurine wouldn't have it any other way. He’ll never share you with anyone. He'll never sell you to anyone.

He’ll never lose you to anyone.

Sometimes it surprises him, this attachment he feels to you. He doesn't quite understand it, but he thinks it mostly just has to do with how good it feels to fuck you. Much like gambling, Aventurine has never enjoyed sex until you came along. Sex for him has always felt like a humiliation, like being gutted open as a captive animal, like being won and passed around in the grand hall of some gaudy casino.

Which is, in fact, another thing he never thought he'd enjoy: having sex in the Venetian Zhijin before an audience of revolting men. He'd resented having to do it as a slave, but he’d enjoyed doing it with you as a Stoneheart. He'd even do it again if he could—take you over and over again on that card table, fill you up with his cum. Spread your cunt in front of everyone, so they could see for themselves that you were now his. Winner takes all.

Winning doesn't feel empty when you're his reward. Sex doesn't either. Because Aventurine isn't a chip or an animal or a commodity when he fucks you—he's a player. Someone with a seat at the table, as just as wealthy and powerful as the slave traders around him. Someone who’s allowed to own something—really own something.

Really allowed to own you.

Aventurine owns you. When he fucks you, he is a player at the table, and you are the prize he gets to keep. And no matter how you feel about him and how you act toward him—this is all the two of you will ever be. He knows this. He knows that you know it too.

So sometimes he can't fathom it, the way he treats you in bed. The way he always kisses your commodity code when he sees it, the way he allows you to kiss his own. The way he always thinks about pleasuring you until you're drunk on his cock, so addicted to him that you’ll never want to be touched by anyone else. The way he always likes how your body feels when it's being shaped by his hands. How different it feels from being forced to touch other people.

How badly you make him want something that he's always hated.

And this is what he understands least of all: how he doesn't like to hear you say aloud the true nature of your relationship. How he doesn't like it when you accept this reality and say, you're only keeping me around for sex.

It hollows him out when he hears it. A bitter feeling swells in his throat, and he forces himself to swallow.

Aventurine keeps his face neutral as he enters the suite with you. As soon as the door is shut, you pull him close—close enough for him to see the blurred lines of your lipstick, smudged from his mouth; close enough to see the white diamond necklace on your neck, a collar for a concubine; close enough to see the finger-shaped discolorations on your throat, poorly hidden by your foundation.

Close enough to see all the things done to your body by others—all the things you didn't choose for yourself.

“How do you want to have me next?” Your fingertip traces his lips. “On the bed? In the shower?” Your eyes are playful. “Maybe against the window?”

Aventurine’s hand cups your cheek, gold rings pressed against your skin. His hold is delicate, more careful than with anything else he's ever handled—any of his watches, his furs, his jewellery. Even more than with the aventurine stone.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You blink.

“Kiss me?” Your brow ticks up, but then your face lights up in supposed understanding. “Okay. You can kiss me. And then?”

“And then I'll keep kissing you.”

You tilt your head, not understanding. “Really?”

“What? Is that off-limits now?” He leans in, expression playful. “Don't tell me I've got to go back downstairs and win back permission to kiss you from your husband.”

Before you can say anything else—ask anything else, perceive anything else—he presses his mouth to yours. Your eyes widen for only a moment before falling shut, your arms wrapping around his neck. Your lips part for him, and he delights in the noise you make as he deepens the kiss.

He did lie, in a way. The two of you do end up fucking again—this time in bed, your mouth gasping into his as you fall apart for him, wet and needy around his cock. You're so warm around him, so pliable beneath him, so desperate when possessed by him. He knows that he could keep going, that he could do anything to you, that you'd be eager to let him use you however he wants.

But all he does afterward is kiss you.

This is yet another act that he never thought he'd enjoy. Kissing has always felt like a chore or a power play or a manipulation. It has always come with a certain emptiness—just like gambling, just like sex. And then he met you, and now it no longer feels so hollow. Because when he wins bets for the IPC, he feels like a poker chip in one of their games, but when he’s fucking you, he feels like a player at the table. And sometimes, when he kisses you—when he holds you close, when you come down from your high and press your face into the crook of his neck and in the vulnerable haze of your bliss, tell him, I missed you—

—he finally feels like a human being.

end notes: christ alive I have never written anything so horny glddjsksjs. I apologize for both my mid smut writing and deranged characterization 💔

initially this was supposed to be brainless pwp about aventurine eating you out on a poker table but I kept asking myself “why the hell did aventurine gamble for human beings and why are these two insane enough to be fucking in a casino tho lol”, and thus a coherent narrative was born from my shameless lust for this guy! but please also don't take the story too seriously because this is a dumb smut piece first and foremost and I mostly wrote it with my clit 😔✌️

that being said, if you are curious about the subject matter that I covered – here's an afterword expanding on my intentions with the themes.

[23victoria]

Jealousy, Jealousy

f1 grid x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

warnings: just the guys being jealous, a lil uncomfortable situations ig,

authors note: sorry i took so long with this anon 🥹🤍! also sorry if this is bad for some reason i was struggling 😓 also ignore any typos any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!! if you wanna join my taglist, click HERE!

f1 masterlist

Lewis

You were at a quaint bookstore in London, browsing through the latest bestsellers. Lewis was busy with a media event, so you decided to take some time to yourself. While searching the shelves, a charming young man approached you, striking up a conversation about the book you were holding.

"So, are you a Ana Huang fan?" he asked, flashing a friendly smile.

You smiled back, appreciating the casual conversation. "Yes, I love her Twisted series! Currently reading book 2."

"That's one of the best books!" he said, inching closer. "I can definitely recommend some more books similar to hers! Maybe if I could get-"

Unbeknownst to you, Lewis had wrapped up his event early and decided to surprise you. He walked into the bookstore just as you were chatting with the stranger. He immediately noticed the man's enthusiastic gestures and your engaged expression. His protective instincts kicked in.

He approached with a confident stride, sliding an arm around your waist. "Hey, babe. Who's your friend?" Lewis's tone was polite, but his eyes were intense.

"Oh, Lewis! This is Tom, we were just talking about The Twisted Series!" you said, trying to ease the tension.

Tom extended his hand, but Lewis's grip on your waist tightened slightly. "Nice to meet you, Tom. I'm Lewis."

Tom picked up on the vibe and quickly made his exit. "Nice to meet you too. I'll let you two enjoy your day."

As Tom walked away, you turned to Lewis, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?"

Lewis chuckled, relaxing his hold. "Maybe a little. Can you blame me? He was cleary interested."

You kissed his cheek, reassured by his protectiveness. "You’re cute when you get like this, you know you're the only one for me."

Max 

You were at a trendy bar in Monaco with some friends, celebrating your  movie premiere. Max was racing that weekend, so you hadn't expected to see him. While chatting at the bar, a guy approached you, complimenting your dress.

"That dress looks amazing on you," he said smoothly.

"Thanks," you replied, smiling politely.

Max, who had finished his practice session early, decided to surprise you. He walked into the bar and immediately spotted you talking to the stranger. His mood darkened as he saw the guy leaning in closer to you.

Max wasted no time, walking straight over and placing a possessive hand on your lower back. "Hey, schatje. Who's this?"

You turned, surprised and delighted to see him. "Max! This is Jason. He just complimented me on my dress."

Jason, sensing the tension, took a step back. "Nice to meet you, Max. You look beautiful Y/N, nice talking to you."

Max nodded curtly, watching Jason leave before turning his attention back to you. "What was that about?"

"Just a compliment," you said, smiling. "Why are you jealous?"

Max pulled you into a deep kiss, making sure everyone in the bar knew you were his. "No."

You laughed, hugging him tightly. "Yes you are, but it’s okay, I like when you get jealous. Besides you're the only one I want, Maxie."

Charles 

You were at the university library, studying for an upcoming exam. Charles was away for a race, so you decided to focus on your studies. A fellow classmate approached you, asking if he could join you at your table.

"Sure," you said, moving your books to make space.

The two of you started discussing your coursework, but the conversation soon shifted to more personal topics. Just as the guy was about to ask you out for coffee, Charles walked in. He had flown back earlier than expected to surprise you.

He saw you laughing with the guy and felt a pang of jealousy. Charles walked over, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Hey, love. Mind if I join you?"

You looked up, surprised and thrilled. "Charles! Of course, sit down. This is Peter, we were just studying."

Peter quickly excused himself, sensing the unspoken tension. "I'll see you around, Y/N."

As Peter left, Charles took his seat beside you, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders. "Who was that?"

"Just a classmate," you said, amused by his reaction. "Jealous much?"

Charles sighed, pulling you closer. "Maybe. But I have every right to be, I mean look at you, you're gorgeous. Any person with common sense would want you."

You kissed his cheek, whispering, "You're adorable, Char! You never have to worry about that. Trust me, you're the only one I want."

Oscar 

You were at a cozy café in Melbourne, waiting for your boyfriend. He had a busy schedule, but you managed to find time for a quick coffee date. While waiting, a guy at the next table struck up a conversation.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, clearly interested.

"Not really, just waiting for someone," you replied, hoping he would take the hint. 

He leaned in a bit closer, a confident smile on his face. "Well, maybe while you wait, we could get to know each other better."

Oscar walked in at that moment, his eyes narrowing as he saw the guy leaning in closer to you as he spoke. He walked over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Hey, baby. Ready to go?"

The guy quickly backed off, realizing he was intruding. "Oh, I'll leave you two to it," he said, standing up and walking away.

Oscar watched him go before turning to you. "Who was that?"

"I don’t know, just some random guy," you said, smiling up at him. "You feeling okay? You look a little red?"

Oscar shakes his head, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Looking at him you say, “You sure it’s not because you got a little jealous?”

Oscar chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Maybe a little. I just can't stand the thought of anyone else getting your attention."

You hugged him tightly, giving him a short kiss. "You just have to get used to having a very attractive girlfriend baby."

“I guess I do.” he says cheekily wrapping his arm around your waist as you guys walk out. 

Carlos 

You were in the pit lane, watching the preparations for the upcoming race. Carlos was busy with the team, so you decided to explore the area. A fellow fan, noticing your VIP pass, struck up a conversation.

"Are you here for the race?" he asked, clearly impressed by your pass.

"Yes, I'm here with my boyfriend," you replied, trying to be polite but distant.

"That's great," he said, undeterred by the mention of your boyfriend. "Is this your first time attending, or are you a regular?"

"Regular." you responded, hoping the conversation would end soon.

"Oh, so your boyfriend's rich, huh?" he remarked with a smirk.

"Uh, sure…yeah," you replied, taken aback and uncomfortable with his comment.

Carlos, having finished his briefing, spotted you talking to the guy. His protective instincts flared up as he saw him getting a bit too friendly.

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, cariño. Everything okay?"

The guy quickly stepped back, realizing who Carlos was. "Oh, hey, big fan. Just talking about the race."

Carlos nodded curtly, his grip on your waist firm. "Enjoy the race."

As the fan walked away, you turned to Carlos, smiling. "Thanks for the save."

"No problem," he replied, his expression softening.

"You know, I love how protective you are," you said, leaning into him. "And maybe when you get jealous just a little. It's cute."

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Lets go get some food, cariño."

Lando 

You were at a gaming convention, enjoying the various booths and activities. Lando was busy with a panel discussion, so you decided to explore. A fellow gamer struck up a conversation, discussing the latest games.

"Have you tried the new VR game?" he asked, clearly excited.

"Not yet, but it looks amazing," you replied, sharing his enthusiasm.

"Yeah, it's fantastic," he said, his eyes lighting up. "I wouldn't mind showing a beautiful girl like you how to use it sometime. It'd be fun."

Lando, having finished his panel, spotted you chatting with the gamer. Jealousy panned over him as he saw the guy flirting with you. 

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey baby! What are we talking about?"

The gamer quickly felt the energy shift. "Just talking about the new VR game."

Lando nodded, his grip on your waist firm. "Cool."

As the gamer walked away, you turned to Lando, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

Lando sighed, pulling you closer. "What?! It’s not my fault he was interested in my girlfriend."

You smiled, kissing his cheek. "Key word in that sentence is “my girlfriend”."

Sebastian 

You were attending a charity event, mingling with various guests. Sebastian was busy with the organizers, so you decided to socialize. A charming gentleman approached you, engaging you in a lively conversation about the event.

"It's great to see so many people supporting this cause," he said, smiling.

"Absolutely," you replied, enjoying the conversation.

He leaned in a little closer, his tone becoming more personal. "Especially when someone as beautiful as you is here."

You smile nervously, not expecting his direct approach. "Oh, thank you," you responded, trying to look around and grab Seb’s attention.

Sebastian, having finished his duties, spotted you talking to the guy, looking around. He saw the man getting too friendly and walked over to you.

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, honey. Would you like a drink? Oh! Who's this?"

The gentleman quickly realized he was intruding. "Just talking about the event."

Sebastian nodded, his grip on your waist firm. "Enjoy the evening then."

As the man walked away, you turned to Sebastian, raising an eyebrow. "I love when you get protective, it’s hot, the jealousy too."

Sebastian smirked, pulling you closer. "Jealous? Me?! Don’t know what you’re talking about."

You smiled, kissing his cheek. "Mhmm, yea, yea. Let’s get my drink."

Jenson 

You were attending an award ceremony, mingling with various celebrities. Jenson was busy with interviews, so you decided to socialize. A charming actor approached you, engaging you in a lively conversation about the a.

"It's great to see so many talented people here," he said, smiling.

"Agreed," you replied, engaging in the conversation."All nominees this year were very talented and impressive."

He nodded thoughtfully, then leaned in a little closer, his gaze lingering on you. "Speaking of impressive, I couldn't help but notice how stunning you look tonight."

You chuckled softly, flattered but unsure how to respond. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."

He grinned charmingly. "So, are you here with anyone special tonight?"

Jenson spotted you talking to the guy. And started to walk towards you. 

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, baby. Who's this?"

The actor quickly realized you were taken. "Just talking about the event."

Jenson nodded, his grip on your waist firm. "Yea, it’s a nice thing."

As the man walked away, you turned to Jenson, raising an eyebrow. "Nice thing?"

Jenson sighed, pulling you closer so he can squeezing your waist. "Didn’t know what to say without being rude so that's what came to my mind."

You smiled and kissed him gently. "Let’s go check out the catering at this 'nice thing'."

Daniel

You were exploring a quaint art gallery in Paris, enjoying the serene atmosphere and the beauty of the artwork on display. Daniel had left his phone in the car, leaving you to appreciate the art alone. As you admired a painting, a friendly gallery assistant approached, eager to discuss the artist's work.

"This piece here is quite exceptional," he said, gesturing towards a vivid abstract painting. "It really captures the essence of movement and emotion."

"It truly does," you replied, appreciating his enthusiasm. "The color blending and stippling is beautiful."

He smiled warmly. "You have a keen eye for art. Beautiful art for a beautiful girl."

"Oh, thank you," you said, trying to show no interest.

Daniel walked into the gallery, He approached, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, baby. Finding any new favorites?"

The gallery assistant reacted quickly to Daniel's presence and backed away. "Just discussing the beautiful artwork," he explained.

Daniel nodded casually. "Thanks for your insights, but we're good here."

As the gallery assistant politely excused himself, you turned to Daniel with a playful smirk. "Oh, someoness jealouss?"

Daniel chuckled softly, pulling you closer. "No, no. Protective, yes. Jealous, could never be me."

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Mhm hm, if you say so."

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[strangersteddierthings]

Eddie blinks. Once. Twice. And a third time for good measure. The scene before him doesn't change. Steve Harrington stands off to the side of the lunch table, behind Jeff and Frankie who have both gone still as statues like they think if they don't move, King Steve won't see them.

"Uh, what?" Eddie finds himself saying, against his own will. He heard Harrington the first time, doesn't need or want him to repeat himself, but his disbelief seems to have won out against his grudge for all jocks and his indifference to Steve Harrington in particular.

Harrington's face pinches, like he's three seconds away from rolling his eyes. He doesn't do that, though, which Eddie will give him one brownie point for. "I asked if you had a minute to talk." Eddie's taking away his brownie point because Steve 'asks' in a way that sounds more like a demand.

Hearing the question and or demand a second time doesn't lower Eddie's hackles, but it does pique his curiosity. He drums his fingers atop his lunchbox, thinking it over. He wishes he could say he's pretending to think about it before he tells Harrington to fuck off, but the truth is he actually is thinking about it.

What could Harrington possibly have to say to him? They very much do not run in the same circles. Eddie only talks business at the picnic table past the edge of the woods out back and everyone who buys from him knows that. They share several classes, since they're both seniors, but everyone knows Eddie's on a track to not graduate (again) so he can't possibly be coming to discuss Mrs. Click's homework assignment.

"Sure. Should we go elsewhere or...?" Eddie trails off, lifting a hand to wave in a circle in Steve's direction, questioning.

Steve looks over his shoulder, back towards the side of the cafeteria taken up by the 'popular' crowd. When Steve turns his face back, he looks- well, kind of sad for a moment before it's smoothed over with indifference.

Interesting.

"No. It's probably good that the rest of your friends hear it anyway," Steve answers.

Jeff's eyebrows rise to his hairline, and Frankie frowns as his eyebrows raise at the same time, showing an expression of interest. Eddie's got no idea what Gareth's face is doing because Eddie can't see him unless he wants to turn his face away, but he's certain it's probably a glare of some sort.

Eddie leans back in his chair, wiggling like he's getting extra comfortable before he says, "Well, alright Harrington. Shoot."

"I'm graduating this year, so I just wanted to give you a heads up for next year. I tried to curb the bullying, but I know it still happened. So, since I'm not going to be here to watch out for that, you're gonna wanna up your," Steve gestures to all of Eddie, "everything."

He knew Steve curbed the bullying a bit, heard the confirmation of that last year from Jason Carver and Tommy Hagan, when he'd stepped in to save Gareth. Or rather, Gareth had come flying in to save him and then Eddie had to save Gareth- well, the details don't matter really.

"My everything?" Eddie asks, more confused than angry. He thinks he should be angry. Harrington has all but outright said he doesn't think Eddie's going to graduate with him, after all. But no. The main emotion now is confusion.

"Yeah. Your, y'know, freakinesss or whatever. Be more of it."

"Be more of a freak?" It's fascinating, that Harrington just keeps talking like he thinks anyone at this table care for his opinion.

"Yeah!" Harrington says, cheery like he thinks that Eddie's agreed with him somehow, complete with a stupid snap of his fingers that turns into a finger gun pointed at Eddie. "You've already got this like unapproachable mad dog kind of look about you, most of the JV team is already scared of you. Just like, up that a bit more and they'll probably steer clear of you and your friends." Then Harrington frowns deep, looking around the table of nerds and dorks before looking down at the top of Gareth's head to add, "well. Except probably curly here. No offense, but you seem an easy target."

"Fuck off," Gareth growls, because of everyone at the table, Gareth does have the most bite. (Most bark goes to Eddie himself). Eddie's more prone to run from a problem than engage in it, unlike Gareth, who he's had to pull off of a few people this year.

"Or not," Harrington retracts his previous statement and Eddie will grant the man another brownie point, which brings the total up to one.

"Good to know my reputation precedes me," Eddie grins, wild and a bit manic.

Harrington is unphased. "Yeah! Do that more. I think it really freaks Jason out and he's most likely to take the captain slot next year, so if you get him afraid of you, the rest of the team'll fall in line and leave you alone too. I think he's super religious, so like, lean into the satanic panic thing people are up in arms about and next year will be a breeze. And-"

Eddie lifts a hand, a motion for Harrington to stop talking. It surprised him a little that Harrington does. Even more interesting. "Stop me if I'm wrong here, Harrington, but are you suggesting that I become the bully?"

Harrington's mouth opens and closes a few times before his face pinches again. Instead of looking like he's going to roll his eyes and be bitchy, Harrington looks confused and then like he's deep in thought. An uncomfortable amount of awkward silence falls over there table, but it's just when Eddie's about to break that silence that Harrington finally speaks. "No. I'm saying just like, be you but bigger. Like, you don't even gotta look in the team's direction. If you're just more of a freak than you usually are, they'll steer clear without the bullying."

"You sure know how to compliment a guy," Eddie deadpans. He's not even upset that Steve's called him a freak. He's spent the majority of his high school career cultivating that outlook. He wasn't just a freak, he was The Freak.

Now a look crosses Harrington's face. One Eddie's not sure he's interpreting correctly. If he had to take a guess, he'd say the look was calculating, knowing, in a way that Eddie doesn't think Harrington could actually achieve. Then it's gone, replaced with the bitchy, eye-rolling look Eddie's used to seeing, and Harrington says, "I haven't said anything untrue."

Hmm. The most interesting thing yet. Eddie might not be graduating (again) but he's not dumb. He didn't survive this far in his life, with a father like his, without learning to read people. He wasn't as good as he wanted to be at reading people last year, but he's definitely good enough know to think that, maybe, just maybe, Harrington also knows a thing or two about cultivating a public perception. Making sure people only see a certain side of you.

"Alright," is what Eddie answers, "I'll take what you've said under advisement."

"Uh. Okay," Harrington says before he just walks away. Conversation over.

"Well," Jeff says, "that was strange."

"Very," Eddie agrees as he watches Harrington walk away, tracking him until the cafeteria door slams shut behind him when he exits.

Eddie has always wanted to up the ante, so to speak. Jump on a cafeteria table and rant about capitalism and organized sports. He never has before but next year seems like a great time to try.

[hoshifighting]

Aphrodisiac Liquor

— Synopsis: Where you're out for a night with your friends, and you decide to try an aphrodisiac liquor, feeling the warmth gradually spreading through your body, your best friend Mingyu starts to appear a little too sexy. — Word Count: 5.1k — WARNINGS: smut, oral (f. and m. receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, chocking, overstimulation, alcohol consumption, horny asf reader, fucked out Mingyu, objetification (Mingyu mentions himself as reader's fuck toy), and dick riding.

The pulsating beat of the music reverberated through the dimly lit club, enveloping the dance floor in a rhythmic energy that matched the collective excitement of the reunited friends. You stood in the center of the vibrant chaos, surrounded by familiar faces and the lively atmosphere of the night.

Mingyu, your best friend, flashed a wide grin as he clinked his drink against yours. "Cheers to finally getting the gang back together!" he shouted over the music, laughter twinkling in his eyes. The last few gatherings had always felt incomplete, someone missing here or there, but tonight was different. Everyone was present, and the joy was palpable.

Woozi, the voice of reason in your group, raised an eyebrow as he observed the already empty bottles scattered across the table. "I hope you two are keeping your promise about not drinking too much," he teased, sipping his own drink with a smirk.

You and Mingyu exchanged guilty glances, aware that your resolve was already wavering. However, compared to the chaos that was unfolding around you, with Dokyeom dancing his way through the crowd like a human pinball, Seungkwan engaging in animated conversations that almost turned into arguments, and Soonyoung returning from the bar with two more bottles of liquor in hand, you and Mingyu felt relatively composed.

"Alright, I admit, maybe we'll take it easy," you chuckled, watching as Dokyeom narrowly avoided another collision on the dance floor.

Mingyu nodded in agreement, but his eyes gleamed mischievously. "Just a little more won't hurt, right?" he said, pouring a modest amount into his glass.

As the night progressed, the club transformed into a haven of laughter, dancing, and unrestrained merriment. The DJ played a mix of old favorites and current hits, prompting everyone to let loose on the dance floor. Woozi found himself reluctantly pulled into a lively dance circle, while Dokyeom continued his mission to navigate the crowd with unpredictable dance moves.

As Soonyoung proudly presented the array of liquor bottles on the table, your eyes were drawn to one particular bottle covered in an intriguing green and purple cloth. Curiosity piqued, you reached for a shot cup and poured yourself a small measure of the mysterious concoction. The liquid gleamed in the dim light of the club, promising an adventure for your taste buds.

Bringing the cup to your lips, you took a shot, savoring the sweet burn that spread across your tongue. The flavor was unique, a blend of sweetness and warmth that left a tingling sensation in its wake. Intrigued, you picked up the bottle to read more about the drink. Just under the bold name "Har" was a smaller inscription that caught your attention – "aphrodisiac drink."

You chuckled, dismissing it as a mere marketing gimmick. Placing the bottle back on the table, you rejoined the conversation with Chan, discussing music, life, and everything in between. However, as the minutes passed, you couldn't shake the subtle change in the atmosphere around you.

As Chan's voice faded into the background, your focus shifted to an inexplicable sensation coursing through your veins. A warmth, almost like a surge of electricity, tingled beneath your skin, spreading from the center of your being. Mingyu's concerned gaze met yours as you struggled to steady yourself.

"I-I'm okay," you managed to stammer out, trying to mask the sudden rush of sensations that seemed to intensify with every passing second.

But as Mingyu reached out a hand, concerned etched on his face, the effects of the mysterious drink became undeniable. Your heart raced, a flush painting your cheeks as your breaths quickened. The realization hit you like a lightning bolt – that bottle, hidden under the cloth, wasn't just any liquor. It was something more potent, something that had triggered a profound reaction within you.

"Maybe it wasn't just a slogan," you muttered, feeling both flustered and perplexed by the unexpected turn of events.

Mingyu's eyes widened in understanding as he glimpsed the bottle's label. His eyebrows shot up, mirroring your own astonishment. "An aphrodisiac drink? Seriously?" He sulks at you.

The room seemed to spin slightly as your senses heightened, and you struggled to regain composure. Mingyu steadied you, concerned. "We need to get you some fresh air," he suggested, guiding you away from the table and the increasingly curious gazes of your friends.

The air outside the club was cool against your heated skin, a welcome relief from the whirlwind of sensations that had taken hold. Mingyu hovered nearby, offering a steadying presence as you tried to regain your equilibrium.

"Is it getting any better?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, feeling the effects slowly subside. "Yeah, I think so..."

The two of you shared a glance, a mixture of amusement and disbelief coloring the moment. Mingyu chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Note to self: avoid mysterious cloth-covered bottles from now on."

Mingyu's suggestion to head home triggered a mix of frustration and amusement within you. "I'm fine, really," you protested, your voice carrying a hint of irritation. The effects of the drink had subsided, leaving you feeling more embarrassed than anything else, but Mingyu's protectiveness had a way of both comforting and irking you at the same time.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, come on. You were practically ready to start a revolution back there," he teased, nudging you gently. "Let's not have you causing chaos in the club."

With a begrudging nod, you relented, acknowledging the logic in his words despite your reluctance. The taxi ride was a blur of streetlights and passing cars, the cool glass of the window offering a soothing sensation against your forehead as you leaned against it.

Mingyu sat beside you, occasionally stealing glances to ensure you were alright. "I know it's a bit annoying, but I'd rather get you home safe," he said, his tone softened by genuine concern.

A sigh escaped your lips, a mix of embarrassment and gratitude mingling within you. "I appreciate it, even if I'm not a fan of being babied," you admitted, offering a small smile in acknowledgment of his efforts.

The rest of the ride was spent in comfortable silence, the cityscape passing by as the taxi made its way toward your destination. Despite the unusual turn of events and Mingyu's overprotective nature, there was a sense of reassurance in having a friend who cared so deeply.

As the taxi rolled along the city streets, the heat returned, and your discomfort grew. The air conditioning in the taxi seemed to be struggling against the warmth, leaving you feeling a bit flustered. Mingyu, ever resourceful, rummaged through the pocket behind the driver's seat and emerged triumphantly with a flyer.

He grinned mischievously, turning the flyer into an impromptu fan. With a flourish, he began fanning you, creating a makeshift breeze that elicited a burst of laughter from both of you. The absurdity of the situation and Mingyu's quick thinking turned the taxi into a scene of amusement rather than discomfort.

Arriving home, the cool air of your apartment was a welcome relief from the residual warmth of the night. Mingyu, seemingly accustomed to the layout of your place, strolled in as if it were his own. The comfort of having him around, especially on a random Tuesday or after an eventful night, was a testament to the strength of your friendship.

As you disappeared into the bathroom for a much-needed cold bath, the sound of the TV coming to life echoed through the apartment. Mingyu had settled onto the couch, making himself at home with ease. The flickering light from the TV cast a soft glow on the living room, creating a cozy ambiance.

The cold water worked wonders against the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac drink, leaving you feeling refreshed – but not feeling like yourself, since the discomfort between your legs was still noticeable.

As you settled onto the couch beside Mingyu, he handed you a cold bottle of water, his concern for your well-being evident. The movie played on the screen, and you tried to focus on the plot, letting the scenes unfold before you. However, your attention kept drifting to the person seated next to you.

Mingyu's features seemed to catch the light in just the right way – the well-combed black hair, the slightly open buttons of his shirt, and the casual roll of his sleeves revealing the tan skin of his forearms. Your gaze couldn't help but linger on the details that seemed to intensify in the dim glow of the TV. His thick thighs encased in denim drew your eyes, and the flickering light played on his lips, making them seem unusually inviting.

Caught in the moment, your eyes met his, and a sudden awareness passed between you. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze, attempting to redirect your thoughts back to the movie. You scolded yourself for entertaining such thoughts, trying to dismiss the images that lingered in your mind.

Mingyu, however, noticed the shift in your demeanor. He shot you a curious look. "Everything okay?" he asked, his eyes lingering on yours.

You nodded quickly, taking a sip of the cold water to distract yourself. "Yeah, just got lost in thought for a moment."

You fought to maintain your focus on the movie, but an undeniable sweetness lingered on your palate, a reminder of the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac drink. The cold bath, despite its earlier refreshing touch, seemed futile in quelling the simmering heat beneath your skin. – To be honest, now the bath didn't work shit – It pulsed through you, intensifying with each passing moment.

Your breath, once steady, now betrayed your internal turmoil. It hitched as your cheeks burned, a telltale sign of the heightened sensations coursing through your body. The discomfort between your legs became an increasingly insistent presence, pussy throbbing demanding attention.

Mingyu, sitting casually beside you, seemed to emit an allure that was impossible to ignore. His features, accentuated by the soft glow of the TV, drew your attention like a moth to a flame.

Your body seemed to betray your attempts to remain composed. Mingyu, your trusted friend, had always been someone you found attractive, but in this moment, every detail about him seemed to amplify that allure.

The internal struggle reached its peak, and you couldn't ignore the discomfort any longer. Closing your legs tightly, you attempted to find some relief, the unbidden desire making focus impossible. In a moment of desperation, you closed your eyes, hoping to regain some semblance of control.

Mingyu, sensing something amiss, took a deep breath and voiced his concern. "Are you really okay?" he asked, genuine worry etched on his face.

Opening your eyes, you knew that you looked far from composed, also known as, absolutely fucked. The internal chaos was surely mirrored in your expression. Mingyu, in his caring nature, reached a hand towards your forehead, then gently slid it down to your neck, checking for signs of fever or any indication of what might be troubling you.

As his hand moved across your skin, he could feel the heat emanating from your body, but the cause remained uncertain. The brief journey from your forehead to your neck sent shivers down your spine, and he noticed your body's involuntary response.

Meeting your gaze with a look of defeat, Mingyu asked, "What am I going to do with you?" The vulnerability of the moment was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected turn the night had taken. Mingyu, torn between concern for your well-being and the confusing dynamics of the situation, faced a dilemma that neither of you had anticipated. The unspoken tension lingered, leaving both of you suspended in a moment that seemed to redefine the boundaries of your friendship.

You found a temporary reprieve by supporting your elbow on your knees, your face cradled in your hands, desperately trying to manage the sensations coursing through your body. Mingyu, sensing your distress, gently asked, "Do you need any help?" His hand rested on your knee, the touch seemingly innocent, lacking any intentional undertones.

Lifting your torso, you looked at him with an expression that conveyed both suffering and confusion. "How?" you managed to utter, the desperation evident in your voice.

He pondered for a moment, sincerity coloring his words. "I honestly don't know," Mingyu admitted, his eyes searching for a solution to the unforeseen dilemma.

Closing your eyes tightly, you breathed loudly, attempting to steady yourself. In a moment of impulsivity, you grabbed his wrist, your eyes still shut, and began guiding his hand higher and higher. 

Mingyu's eyes widened, his attempts to maintain composure faltering. "You're not in the right mind right now," he warned, trying to inject a note of reason into the situation.

You, however, remained persistent, continuing to guide his hand higher with a suffered expression. Mingyu felt a mixture of confusion and a growing awareness that the dynamics of the moment were shifting. He struggled to compose himself, realizing that the unexpected turn of events was challenging not only for you but for him as well.

The charged atmosphere enveloped both of you as you laid your head on Mingyu's shoulder, intertwining your hands together. His touch on your thigh was hesitant, his caress slow and deliberate. Your breath, warm against his neck, sent shivers down his spine.

Mingyu bit his lip, deep in thought as he analyzed the situation. He could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken desires that hung between you two. The grip on your thigh tightened involuntarily as he contemplated the ways to help you, the weight of his own internal struggle evident in the furrow of his brow.

A soft moan escaped your lips, a sound that resonated through both of you. Mingyu, caught off guard by the effect his touch had on you, felt his body respond involuntarily. His grip tightened on your thigh, and a subtle warmth spread through him.

In the midst of the charged atmosphere, you sulked sultrily, your voice a low murmur that made Mingyu's body react. "What are you waiting for?" you whispered, your sultry tone sending a wave of heat through him.

Caught between the tension of the moment and the realization that there was only one effective way to help you, – fuck you until you're fully satisfied – Mingyu hesitated.

"Fuck, Y/N, I don't know," Mingyu uttered, his frustration and arousal intermingling in his voice. The charged tension in the air seemed to escalate as you lifted your face, bringing it dangerously close to his lips. Your noses brushed together, a subtle and tantalizing gesture that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Please Mingyu, please…" Your sultry tone continued to play with his senses, teasing and arousing. Mingyu, caught in the moment, found himself unable to resist the magnetic pull between you two. He managed to steal a glance at your tank top, the falling straps exposing your shoulder and the hardened nipple teasingly visible through the fabric.

In an unexpected twist, the charged atmosphere culminated in a daring move. Mingyu suddenly felt the touch of your lips on his, and his initial surprise transformed into a profound connection. Before fully giving in to the kiss, he took a momentary glance at you, a silent agreement passing between your locked eyes.

As your lips melded together, Mingyu's hand instinctively found its way to your hair, holding it gently. The kiss deepened, his mouth opening to caress your tongue with his in a dance of shared desire. The world around you seemed to fade away as you both melted into each other's arms, the unspoken tension finding its release in the passionate connection that had unexpectedly blossomed between you.

The intensity of the moment heightened as Mingyu's hand ventured inside your tank top, exploring the warmth of your skin, almost burning the skin of his hand. His fingers danced across your belly, tracing the contours of your waist, before finding their way to cup your breast. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and the heat radiating from your skin seemed to intensify under his caress.

Mingyu, his voice a low whisper, remarked on the undeniable heat emanating from your body. "Fuck baby, you're so hot…"

A soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips as Mingyu's touch on your breast elicited a visceral response. You acknowledged his observation with a sultry tone, admitting, "I know," the words laden with desire. The unspoken tension between you two reached a boiling point as you confessed, "I need you so bad Gyu!" 

Mingyu, propelled by a sense of urgency, swiftly guided you to the large couch. Without hesitation, he laid you down, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. The fervor of the moment heightened as his hands moved with purpose, skillfully pulling down the elastic of your shorts and panties, freeing your lower half in one fluid motion. 

Mingyu wasted no time, his fingers skillfully exploring inside your wet sensitive folds, making squelching sounds reaching your ears, while his thumb worked circles on your clit, making your eyes close – finally a relief for your body – and Mingyu notices that too, making him smile at the way your body was slowly stopping from being tense. 

"Is it helping?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

You nodded, acknowledging the relief his actions had brought, but the sensations left you craving more. "It's good, but I need more," you admitted, the desire for something deeper and more intense evident in your voice.

He teased, recalling your earlier affirmation that it was enough. "Well, you said it was enough," Mingyu remarked, playfully challenging your request for more.

Your plea for increased intensity grew more urgent, and he paused, halting his movements abruptly. The sudden stop made you cry out, the rush of sensations abruptly cut off. "I need more Mingyu-ah!" you begged, your voice filled with longing and a desperate plea for the heightened pleasure you desired.

The atmosphere crackled with a palpable intensity as Mingyu, driven by the escalating desire, hastily removed his shirt, buttons scattering in the living room like a visual manifestation of the urgency in the air. His pants followed suit, tugged down with an eagerness that echoed the building tension between you two.

Just when you anticipated he would hover over you, Mingyu surprised you by getting down instead. From this new vantage point, he looked up at you, your legs spread, his gaze locked onto your aroused form, red cheeks, your pussy glistening, hair gluing on your skin and parted lips. 

Mingyu's words, spoken in a low, husky tone, carried a mix of surprise and desire. "I should've seen this coming, but... You look so wet," he remarked, his gaze shifting from your face to your core. 

Mingyu, his eyes still locked on the intimate revelation before him, couldn't help but voice the question lingering in his mind. "Is it because of the drink?" he asked, a hint of concern and curiosity in his voice.

You met his gaze, a mix of honesty and desire reflected in your eyes. "Yes," you replied, acknowledging the role the mysterious drink had played in heightening the sensations coursing through your body. But then, with a subtle but deliberate emphasis, you added, "But also because of you."

The weight of your admission hung in the air, and Mingyu, his eyebrows furrowing in a mix of disbelief and arousal, sought confirmation. "For real?" he asked, seeking assurance.

In response, you simply nodded. Mingyu, fueled by the shared desire and the realness of the moment, wasted no time. His mouth found your core, and the sudden sensation made you jolt, "Ah! Mingyu s-shit!" a gasp escaping your lips as you called out his name. 

He rolls his tongue around your throbbing and puffy clit, before sucking it between his red swollen lips. Mingyu's hands took hold of your thighs, pulling you closer and causing you to slide along the couch. The sudden movement left you in a state of disbelief, and your hands instinctively flew to cover your face. The realization that your best friend was now intimately between your legs, eating you out, overwhelmed you, and a mixture of shock and pleasure lingered in the air. "Fuck- gonna cum…" Your voice cracked.

The rush of sensations made your thighs involuntarily squeeze around Mingyu's head, a surge of pleasure intermingled with the overwhelming intensity of the moment. He shot you a glance, a mix of amusement and appreciation for the sudden pressure, as he continued to lavish attention on your most sensitive places. Your feet brushed against the skin of his back, the physical contact adding another layer of intimacy.

The warmth of your release against his mouth sent a shiver through Mingyu, the sensation exhilarating. The way you arched your back, screaming, calling out his name, in a tone he'd never heard you call before, made his cock twitch inside of his boxers. Mingyu found himself reveling in the sensation, realizing that this uncharted territory had opened up a new, unexplored dimension in your friendship.

Mingyu, still basking in the aftermath of the shared moment, took a moment to peel off his boxers. His arousal was evident, and the sight of his cock slapping against his abdomen left you watching in awe.

Feeling a surge of desire, you looked at him with a newfound boldness and asked, "Can I ride you?" 

Mingyu's eyes widened in surprise, a smile spreading across his face. He laughed, the sound filled with a mix of amusement and desire, before responding, "Sure, baby."

The air was thick with anticipation as you straddled Mingyu's thighs, his desire evident in the teasing glare he directed at you. Taking control, you began to pump his dick with deliberate movements, a sly smile playing on your lips. 

Guiding him to your entrance, you felt the stretch as he entered you, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. The ease with which he slid into you only intensified the raw pleasure of the moment. Mingyu's moan of approval, a low and satisfied "Hmmm" echoed through the room.

With your hips rolling in a rhythmic dance, you couldn't resist the urge to pull your top up, exposing more of your tits. However, Mingyu, seemingly wanting control, pushed your hands away. His fingers began to flicker over your exposed nipples, a teasing and tantalizing touch that made you mewl in response.

Mingyu's words, a command laden with desire, hung in the air. "Use me as your little toy," he urged. 

The suggestion lingered, and you, caught in the intensity of the moment, questioned if he was truly willing. "Will you let me?" you asked, smiling mischievous while your hips worked harder. 

His response came in a low, throaty moan, filled with both need and consent. "Yes, I'm yours. Use me as much as you want," Mingyu declared.

"Bet." 

As you lowered your body, sinking your hips harder with each motion, Mingyu's grip on your waist tightened. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving the promise of bruises. Mingyu, fueled by the idea of being your little fuck toy, couldn't contain the rush of sensations overwhelming his mind. 

The rhythm of your hips took on a frantic, fast pace, causing Mingyu to question whether his legs could even leave the couch. The intensity of the experience pushed him to the brink, as his cries grew louder, bordering on uncontrollable, he begged you to slow down, fearing he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "Shit b-babe slow down!" His plea held a desperate undertone, a warning of what was to come if the pace continued.

In response, you choked him gently with one hand, a firm yet commanding gesture. "Be quiet," you whispered, a note of authority in your tone. The threat of a noise complaint lingered in the air. 

The sensation of your hand wrapped around Mingyu's throat, barely cutting off his air, made him gasp for breath. The delicate balance between pleasure and restriction sent waves of a delicious intensity through him. As you rolled your eyes, feeling your orgasm approaching, the grip on him tightened, and he arched his back, attempting to hold onto his own release.

The climax approached with an overwhelming force as your pussy crushed Mingyu's cock, inducing spasms of pleasure that rippled through his body. Your moans intertwined with the thick tears rolling down your cheeks, a culmination of the release from the tension that had built up throughout the night. The intensity hit like a tidal wave, leaving you feeling momentarily unstable.

Sensing your need for support, Mingyu struggled in pleasure to get up. He reached out to you, holding you close as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, crying out his name.

"Yeah, baby, I know it feels too good, right? I got you," Mingyu murmured, his words a reassuring melody in the aftermath of the intense orgasm. 

Driven by a lingering desire that had occupied your mind since the beginning of the night, – suck Mingyu's cock until you're unconscious – you decided to act on your newfound craving. Eagerly, you untangled yourself from Mingyu's embrace, his stability still offering support as you made your way towards your intended destination.

Your eagerness didn't leave room for hesitation. With a toss of your hair to the side, you seized the opportunity, pushing Mingyu's cock deep into your throat. The sudden, intense action caught him off guard, and his mouth opened wide in surprise, not expecting the eager and daring move you had just made.

The room was filled with a mix of sounds—the wet, rhythmic movements, his gasps of pleasure, and the unspoken understanding that the night had taken yet another unexpected turn. 

A prolonged "Fuuuuck" escaped from Mingyu's lips as you continued to bob your head incessantly, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your slurping echoing through the room. The intensity of your actions caused his cheeks to flush, and the pleasure you were delivering was almost overwhelming. Mingyu, lost in the sensations you were creating, felt himself melting into the couch, completely absorbed in the pleasure of the moment. 

Mingyu's tip pushed against the back of your throat, your lips grazing his pelvis. He held onto the material of the couch, feeling the tension radiate through his entire body. The moment climaxed with the forceful release of his cum, the spurts going down your throat.

"Oh my god Y/N!" As you continued to suck, Mingyu's body flinched in the aftermath of his release. His voice, now thin and breathless, pleaded with you to stop.

"Please, stop," he managed to utter, the intensity of the sensations still coursing through him.

You allowed Mingyu's soft cock to fall gently onto his stomach with a faint pop of your lips. Surveying his body, now laid defeated on the couch, you asked, "You okay?"

He nodded, his hands finally releasing their tight grip on the couch fabric. "Yeah," he affirmed, his breaths still slightly uneven.

Mingyu, his voice tinted with a mix of surprise and realization, whimpered, "You were horny as fuck, weren't you?"

A smile played on your lips as you replied, "Sorry if it was too much."

Exhausted, Mingyu closed his eyes and confessed, grinning "I loved it."

Mingyu, with a tired but content sigh, raised his arm, reaching out to pull you into a comfortable embrace. You settled against his chest, the warmth of his skin radiating through you. The living room was scattered with discarded clothes, a testament to the intensity of the night that had unfolded.

As sleep began to claim both of you, Mingyu's rhythmic breathing served as a calming lullaby. His fingers gently traced patterns through your hair as you drifted into a peaceful slumber on his chest. 

The morning light filtering through the curtains woke you from your slumber, accompanied by the gentle sensation of Mingyu's fingers tracing patterns on your back. As you lifted your head and rubbed your eyes, you realized you probably didn't look your best. Thankful that Mingyu had seen you wake up before, you hid your face in the crook of his neck, seeking a moment's refuge.

With a husky voice, Mingyu spoke up, breaking the quiet morning atmosphere. "I'm definitely buying another bottle of that liquor for us," he declared, the memory of the eventful night prompting a teasing smile.

The shared sentiment about the unforgettable night echoed in his words, encapsulating the adventurous journey you and Mingyu had embarked on. The unspoken understanding and the newfound closeness between you two lingered in the air, marking the beginning of a bond that had evolved beyond the boundaries of mere friendship.

[archiveofvirtue]

officer — dean winchester

content: dean winchester x female!oc, heavy smut, oral (male receiving), face riding, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, slight breeding, explicit language

summary: you have been dealing with a series of bizarre murders, stuck as the killer stays unknown to you. When suddenly two FBI Agents enter the New Orleans Police Department where you are leading the case. Dean is very much intrigued by you, due to you being both sharp and attractive. You, however, quickly discover that the brothers aren't who they claim to be. Instead of reporting them, you decide to confront Dean privately..

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Dean Winchester adjusted his FBI badge, his lips curling into a smirk as he and Sam walked into the bustling precinct of the New Orleans Police Department. The case they were working on—a string of bizarre murders linked to a wicked witch—had brought them to the city, and they needed all the help they could get. Dean had done his homework, and he knew exactly who they needed to talk to.

"Officer Y/N Carter," he said under his breath, glancing at his brother. "She's the lead on this case. And from what I've heard, she's sharp as a tack."

Sam raised an eyebrow, catching the glint in Dean's eye. "You mean you've heard she's hot."

Dean grinned. "Can't a guy appreciate a woman's professional skills?"

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't press further as they approached the front desk. A young officer glanced up at them, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the two well-dressed men.

"Agents...?" she prompted, her gaze flicking to their badges.

"Sir Abney," Dean said smoothly, flashing his most charming smile. "And this is Agent Moore. We're with the FBI, here to see Officer Carter about an ongoing investigation."

The officer nodded and picked up the phone. Within moments, you stepped into the room, and Dean had to suppress a whistle. You were stunning—tall, with sharp blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. Your dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and you moved with the kind of confidence that Dean couldn't help but admire..

He didn't try to hide his smug smile. Typical. You had dealt with enough of these guys to know the look-half admiration, half underestimation.

"Agents," you greeted them, voice cool and professional. "I hear you're looking into the same case I am."

"That's right," He said, offering his hand. "Agent Abney. This is my partner, Agent Moore."

You shook his hand, grip firm, and Dean couldn't help but notice the slight twitch at the corner of your mouth, as if you were suppressing a smile. "Officer Y/N Carter. I've been working on this case for weeks. It's been... unusual, to say the least."

"That's why we're here," Sam chimed in, his tone more serious. "We've been tracking similar incidents across the state. We think your case might be connected."

You nodded, your expression thoughtful as you led them to your desk. "Let's compare notes, then."

As the three of you discussed the details of the case, Dean found himself increasingly drawn to you. You were smart, no doubt about that, and you didn't shy away from speaking your mind. But there was something else, too—a spark between you and Dean that you couldn't ignore. You caught his eyes on you several times during your conversation, and each time, you looked back at him with a mixture of curiosity and something else... something that made his pulse quicken. He had that charm that could probably get him out of most situations, but you weren't so easily swayed.

After the three of you had gone through all the information, you leaned back in your chair, studying them with those sharp eyes of yours. "Well, it looks like we're dealing with the same thing—a unknown woman with a serious grudge and a knack for creative murder."

"Seems that way," Dean agreed, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "You've been a big help, Officer Carter. I gotta say, it's not every day we come across someone as competent as you in law enforcement."

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips. "Is that your way of complimenting me, Agent Abney?"

Dean grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Just stating the facts, ma'am."

You chuckled softly, but there was an edge of suspicion in your eyes that Dean didn't miss. "Well, I'm happy to help. But don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you two. I've been doing this job long enough to know when something's off."

"Nothing to worry about, Officer," Dean said smoothly. "We're just here to catch this serial killer."

"Uh-huh," you said, not entirely convinced. But before either of them could say more, your phone buzzed on the desk.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," you said, picking it up and turning slightly away from them. The brothers took the opportunity to exchange a glance—Sam's pointed and Dean's slightly smug. But when you hung up, your expression was unreadable.

"I think we're done here," you said, standing. "I'll reach out if I find anything else. And you two—keep me in the loop."

"Will do," Sam said, and Dean gave you a nod before they headed out of the station.

As they left, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that you were more than just a by-the-books cop. And judging by the look you had given him, you weren't quite done with them, either. Something told you that these two had a lot more going on than they let on.

Back at your desk, you watched the two 'FBI agents' walk out, your mind already working on unraveling the mystery that was slumbering over them. There was something about him that didn't add up—besides the fact that he was ridiculously charming. When you'd shaken his hand, there had been a spark, a feeling that you couldn't quite put your finger on. And then there was that name—Abney. You were almost certain you had heard it before, but not in any official capacity.

As soon as they were out of sight, you turned to your computer, pulling up the database. You typed in 'Abney' and 'Moore,' then hit enter. A few seconds later, the screen flashed with the results—nothing. No agents by those names in the FBI database. But then, almost as quickly, a few more results popped up—articles, reports, sightings—all linked to two brothers who had a reputation for impersonating law enforcement.

Winchester. Dean and Sam Winchester.

A slow smile spread across your face. Well, well, well. You had them now. But instead of going straight to your superiors, you decided to play this one a little differently. If Dean wanted to flirt, you'd flirt back—but on your terms.

You quickly reached down into your pocket, pulling out the sleek little paper card that Agent Abney, better known as Dean Winchester, had given you earlier, then picked up your phone. It was time to see just how far Dean was willing to go.

Later that evening, Dean's phone buzzed as he and Sam were going over their next move. He picked it up, frowning when he saw the message. It was from an unknown number, but the address and the time were clear.

"Meet me at this address after dark. We need to talk. – Y/N."

Sam glanced over. "Something up?"

Dean grinned. "Looks like Officer Carter wants a little one-on-one time."

Sam's expression turned wary. "Dean, we should be focusing on the witch, not..."

"Not what? Pursuing all possible leads?" Dean interrupted with a smirk. "Relax, Sammy. I'll handle this."

Sam sighed but didn't argue. "Just be careful."

Dean winked. "Aren't I always?"

Your apartment was on the edge of the city, in a quiet, upscale neighborhood. Dean arrived right on time, his nerves buzzing with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. As he walked up to the door, he wondered what exactly you wanted to talk about—but something told him it wasn't just about the case.

He knocked, and after a few seconds, the door swung open. You stood there, dressed casually in jeans and a fitted black shirt, your hair loose around your shoulders. The look you gave him was one of both suspicion and something else—something that made Dean's heart beat a little faster and that kept you from not calling him out just yet.

"Officer Carter," he said with a grin, leaning against the doorframe. "What can I do for you?"

You raised an eyebrow, stepping aside to let him in. "You can start by dropping the act, 'Agent Abney.'"

Dean's grin faltered slightly as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. "I'm not sure what you mean."

You crossed your arms, your expression unimpressed. "I mean, I did a little digging after you left the station. Turns out, you're not FBI. In fact, you're not even a cop."

Dean's stomach dropped. He was usually better at covering his tracks, but you had seen right through him. "Look, I can explain—"

You held up a hand, cutting him off. "I'm sure you can. But I'm not interested in your excuses. What I'm interested in is why you're really here."

Dean's mind raced, searching for a way to salvage the situation. But before he could come up with anything, you stepped closer, eyes locked on his. "And what I'm really interested in, Dean Winchester, is what you're willing to do to keep this little secret between us."

The way you said his name sent a shiver down his spine. There was no anger in your voice, no threat—just a challenge to see if he would accept. And Dean never could resist a challenge.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer, closing the distance between you two.

Your smile was slow, sultry, as you looked up at him. "I think you know, Dean. After all, you've been flirting with me since you walked into that station. So why don't we see if you can back it up?"

Dean's breath hitched. He wasn't often caught off guard, but you had managed it. You were sharp, confident, and undeniably sexy. And the offer you were making? Well, it was one he couldn't refuse.

He reached out, his hand sliding to the small of your back as he pulled you closer, his touch sending electric shocks to your skin. "You sure about this?"

You didn't pull away. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, lips curling into a sly smile as your hands rested on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. "I'm sure, Dean. But this isn't just about keeping your little secret-this is about you proving that all that talk isn't just for show."

You could feel his pulse quickening, your words sparking a fire in him that he hadn't felt in a long time.

There was something about you-something in the way you looked at him, the way you challenged him-that made him want to prove himself. And it wasn't just about keeping you quiet anymore; it was about something far more primal.

"Trust me, sweetheart," Dean murmured, his voice husky as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I never make promises I can't keep."

A shiver ran down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as his words washed over you. You hadn't expected to be so affected by him-hadn't expected the way his touch would make your knees go weak.

But you weren't about to let him know just how much power he had over you, not yet.

This was still a game, and you weren't going to lose.

"Then show me," you whispered back, voice full of daring as you leaned into him, lips brushing against the stubble on his jaw. "Show me what you've got, Winchester."

Dean didn't need any more encouragement.

In one swift motion, he closed the remaining distance between you two, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both fierce and possessive.

You responded immediately, hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as you pulled him closer, matching his intensity with your own.

The kiss deepened, becoming a battle for dominance as your tongues clashed and your breaths mingled. Dean's hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every line, while your nails dug into his shoulders, urging him on, daring him to take it further.

He backed you up against the wall, the cool plaster pressing against your back as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Your head fell back, eyes fluttering closed as you surrendered to the sensations he was awakening in you. It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel, the way he took control.

But you weren't about to let him have it all his way.

With a sudden burst of strength, you pushed him back, flipping your positions so that he was the one against the wall. He looked momentarily surprised, but then his lips curled into a wicked grin, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Feisty," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration and a hint of challenge. "I like that."

"Good," you shot back, voice breathless but steady as you trailed your hands down his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

You kissed him again, hard and demanding, pouring everything you had into it. Dean responded with equal fervor, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together. The world outside melted away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a battle of wills and desire.

You both stumbled towards the couch, lips never parting, your hands never stopping their exploration. Dean's shirt was the first to go, quickly followed by yours, leaving you both bare to the waist, skin burning with the heat of your desire.

You pushed him down onto the couch, straddling his lap as you looked down at him, eyes blazing with a mix of lust and determination. "You're not getting off easy, Dean. If I'm keeping your secret, I want something in return."

Dean's hands gripped your thighs, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a hunger that matched your own. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just say the word."

You leaned down, lips brushing against his as you whispered, "I want all of you, Dean. I want you to make me forget everything except this moment."

And with that, any semblance of restraint you two had left crumbled. Dean's hands moved to unfasten your jeans, his fingers working with practiced ease as he stripped away the barriers between you. Your hands were just as eager, tugging at his belt, then his pants, until you were both bare and aching for each other.

Your eyes admired the men underneath you, his muscular chest heavily raising up and down as he observed you. You were quick to press a few kisses to his stomach before shifting your naked body down so that your lips were on the same level as his hard length.

Desire was burning in your eyes as you peeked up at Dean who was already tensing up, knowing what was bound to happen.

Without another second passing your plump lips wrapped around his tip, cheeks hallowing as you began sucking, earning a deep growl from him.

Slurping sounds began to fill the four walls of your living room as you took him down your throat, the noises that left Dean's lips satisfying you.

"What a cockslut you are," Dean grunted. His dirty words making your core tingle, pressing your thighs together as you started to suck him off at your own pace now, getting a slight taste of his precum in the process.

As he started to buckle his hips up just second later and shove his cock further down your throat you knew that he wasn't going to last any longer.

Dean reached down to take your hair in his grip, tugging on it as he fastened his movements. You were drooling and spitting already when Dean finally released himself into your mouth, feeling the warmth of his cum on your tongue.

You teasingly licked the corner of your lips clean as you stared up at him, and you could tell by the smug look on his face that he wasn't done yet.

Dean harshly pulled your fragile body up to him, his calloused hands pulling at your hips, shifting your frame towards his face with ease. He needed to devour you, and he needed you now.

"Can't wait to taste you, sweetheart." He muttered from inbetween your thighs, his warm breath falling against you.

The softness of your skin on top of him, his rough hands gripping tightly on your hips and rubbing your ass cheeks create a familiar sensation you were aching for all along. Every touch of him felt like being electrocuted.

Moans began to escape your lips as he guided you to move against him, your core rutting into his face, tongue now lapping at your entrance as his nose brushed against your sensitive nub.

Dean definitely took his time with you, devouring your wetness in smooth motions, his warm tongue licking through you, again and again.

You felt the knot in your lower belly growing as Dean moved up to suck at your clit, while two of his fingers prodded at your entrance before slipping in with ease. You felt so full with his fingers inside you. You arched your back at the intense pleasure Dean was giving you, your sweet whimpers filling the room.

Dean immediately knew that you were on the verge of releasing, until it happened right in front of his eyes. Your legs trembled, hands gripping onto strands of his hair, while his rough grip on your hips forced you to still move against him while you rode out your high.

He let his tongue slip through your folds one last time before pulling back, his lips covered by your wetness, making them glisten in the dimly lit room.

"You're addicting." Dean growled, his green eyes staring up at you while you were still catching your breath.

It was just when you were about to move off of him that Dean grabbed your weak-kneed body and threw it back down, back pressed against the soft fabric of the couch. He was still aching for more.

He crawled over you, grabbing your hips and rubbing his tip between your folds before pushing all of him inside, earning something between a gasp and a moan that sounded too good in his ears falling from your lips.

"You are taking me so fucking good," Dean began praising and kissing you, his breathy voice making you clench around his cock.

His hips met yours with every thrust as he found the perfect pace to fuck you right through it. The friction between you electric.

You felt his hands grabbing your breasts as they bounced with each thrust, playing gently with your nipples, adding extra pleasure to your body. It was raw, it was intense, and exactly what you both had wanted.

"Yeah, just like that..." Dean muttered in between his own moans, his fingers finding their way to your clit, moving them in circles, and forcing another orgasms out of you.

As your walls clenched around him you could tell by the way his movements got sloppier that he wasn't too far from releasing himself again. You pulled him down, lips hungrily devouring eachother as you moaned into his mouth, "you fill me up so well."

Dean pounded into you a few more times before he spilled inside you, little droplets of sweat had built up on his forehead as you brushed his hair back with your hands, his hips still moving painfully slow, some of his seeds spilling out of you.

He then collapsed right next to you, his body tightly pressed against yours while your heart was still racing from the intensity of what you two had just shared. Dean's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, his own breath coming in ragged gasps.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the silence stretch between you two.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, looking at him with a satisfied smile. "Well, Dean, I think you've more than earned your secret."

Dean chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver through you. "Glad to hear it. But something tells me this isn't the last time you're gonna hold something over me."

You grinned, leaning in to brush your lips against his. "Maybe not. But you know what? I'm okay with that."

Dean's smile softened as he looked at you, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

"You're something else, Y/N Carter."

"So are you, Dean Winchester," you whispered back, heart swelling with something more than just the heat of the moment. "So are you."

[rustyr3dhe4d]

unexpected - cl16

summary: a few years ago, you found yourself unexpectedly pregnant with your boyfriends baby. upon telling him, he completely disappeared and you hadn't heard from his since. of course you told your best friend, charles. he vowed to help you before and after the birth. fast forward a couple of years, what happens when your child assumes charles is her father.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

flashback: 4 years ago

as the two little lines show up on the little plastic test, you feel your hands begin to shake. this can't be happening, you think to yourself. you're 22 years old, you're not ready for a kid. you haven't even discussed marriage, let alone kids with your boyfriend.

you quietly made your way out of the bathroom with the test in your hand. "baby?" you call out into your apartment. "yeah?" you hear his voice echo from the kitchen.

his back is to you when you enter the kitchen, looking through the fridge. when he turns around, his brows crease when he's met with your red, tear-stained face. "is everything okay?" you just shake your head and slowly raise up the test in your hand.

his creased brows slowly raise as he hones in on the object in your hand. "is it..." he begins but doesn't finish. you nod your head slowly, your eyes not meeting his. he sets the drink he took out of the fridge down on the counter. "say something, please..." the silence was all the answer you need.

he briskly walks past you and to the bedroom. "where are you going?" you ask him but still get no answer. within the next 5 minutes, he's out the door with bags packed. you sit on the edge of bed, eyes full of tears. your hand finds your phone not to far away on the bed and you tap on the contact of the one person you can trust.

"hey amour, what's up?" his voice rings through the phone. you take a shaky breath before continuing. "charles, i need you." you hear some shuffling on the other end before he speaks. "i'll be there soon, hold on amour."

soon after you hang up, you hear your front door open and frantic footsteps moving throughout the apartment. a few seconds later, charles appears in the doorway of your bedroom. "hey..." he squats down in front of your sitting frame. "what's going on?"

your eyes look to the bathroom and his eyes follow. he gets up and moves to the bathroom, you see him freeze when he reaches the counter. he emerges with one of the tests in his hand.

"are these..."

"yes."

"where's-"

"he left. as soon as i told him. bags packed and everything." your eyes stay locked on your feet. he sets the test down on the nightstand closest to him before sitting next to you. he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you to his chest. "i've got you. i'm here now, and i'm going to be here every step of the way."

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

present day

"alright adeline, are you ready to see cha race today?" you ask. your daughter's smile grows as she holds your hand and you both walk through the paddock.

as you walk through the ferrari motorhome doors, your greeted with many 'hellos' and 'hi's.' you make it to charles' driver room, just as he comes out. at the sight of you and adeline, his face brightens. "addy!"

your daughter lets go of your hand and runs over to the brunette. "cha!' she squeals as he lifts her up, placing her on his hip. you smile at the bond the two share. once she's comfortable on his hip, he turns to you. "hi, belle."

he moves to wrap his free arm around your waist and places a light kiss on your cheek. "cha?" adeline starts.

"yes, papillon?" he turns to the little girl on his hip. "can we go see uncle carlos?"

"of course we can, as long as your mom is okay with it?" he turns to you. you just smile and nod your head. "that's fine with me. just give me one second, i need to use the restroom and then i'll go with you guys." you disappear down the hallway as he sets her down.

"is there anything else you want to do today, addy?" charles asks as he squats down in front of her. adeline just shrugs her shoulders, which causes charles to chuckle. "can we go see uncle carlos now?" she whines.

"just wait for a few more seconds, your mom will be back in a few." you finally come back from the bathroom. "alright now we can go, papillion." he says.

adeline moves to run out of the motorhome but charles stops her. "hold on, your shoes untied addy, come here." she turns around and walks back over to charles. "place your hands on his shoulders so he can tie your shoes." you tell her.

she places her hands on his shoulders as he moves down to tie her shoe. after tightening the knot, he stands up. "all good." she turns around and makes her way to the exit. "thanks daddy!" she calls behind her.

both you and charles freeze. "oh, um..." you stutter out. his face and ears are burning red.

"why don't we-"

"let's just-" both you and charles start at the same time. he gestures for you to walk ahead of him. you nod your head and start walking after your daughter with charles close behind.

this will definitely be a conversation for later.

[ryescapades]

I was wondering I could request a Hoshina x Platoon Leader! Reader where they’re in a relationship which is hidden from the public but the 3rd division knows that smth is going on between them they just don’t know what exactly!

The catch is that there’s a new female officer who was recruited into the division and everybody seems to think that she’s after Hoshina but in reality she’s after the reader and Hoshina gets jealous🤣🤣

darling dearest | kaiju no. 8

characters: hoshina soshiro x gn platoon leader!reader (implied using a hair tie)

genre/warning: fluff !! 'private but not a secret' kinda rs, friends to lovers, hoshina getting jelly, kinda kikoru-centric, one oc made for ze plot :p

a/n: tq for the request anon <3 the world Needs to see the absolute wonder that is jealous!hoshina. also i took a bit of inspo from horimiya's sawada :> 1.9k wc

"he's doing it again."

at the blonde's statement, two curious heads turn to look at where their vice-captain is, unsurprisingly close to where you're standing next to a sitting okonogi.

the operations leader and you are busy discussing about the data you've gathered during your training, and while you're giving out your outlooks on the topic, hoshina seems to be more invested in it than your colleague is.

with your arms literally touching each others', his gaze never once strays away from you, occasionally dropping down to your lips (which the three spying officers are too far away to notice) as you continue to converse with okonogi.

what they don't know is that hidden from their prying eyes, you're fidgeting a lot with hoshina's hand, absently prodding and stroking at his calloused skin out of pure habit.

ever since they were cadets, they've borne witness to a lot of interactions between vice-captain hoshina and you, one of their platoon leaders that radiate vibes ranging from coworker-friendly and platonic to borderline romantic.

silently conversing through brief eye contacts, purposely being in the other's close proximity, making silly jokes in public with clear motive of making the other laugh and the likes. one time kikoru even saw the vice-captain wearing your signature hair tie on his wrist!

and yet they've also recently heard hoshina saying how good of a 'friend' you were to him when the whole division was partying and celebrating after a hard won mission.

none of them ever bothered to confront you nor him to confirm, for sticking their noses into their superiors' personal business isn't a line they're bold enough to cross. since then, they're content with just watching and speculating.

basically, the notion 'they are a pair. do not separate.' is often associated with you and hoshina, no matter what the 'pair' stands for. at this point, the whole third division is just waiting for the day you two get together already.

"he's so close... might as well just glue himself to their hip," reno lightheartedly jokes. kikoru scoffs, fully agreeing with her white-haired colleague while kafka raises an eyebrow. "he sure looks smitten for someone who's supposedly not keen on attachments," he comments.

"men," the girl rolls her eyes, which kafka throws an offended look at. reno sighs, smiling at their antics before he decides to change the subject. "enough about that. have you guys heard? we're gonna have a new recruit transferred here soon."

"ah, right! i've heard the person is from the first division, and they requested the transfer themself. probably another fan of captain ashiro, like usual," kikoru shrugs.

"eh... must be a really big fan to leave behind such an amazing team." reno says in bewilderment, and the older man nods as kikoru crosses her arms, smirking slightly. "we should be meeting them soon. i wanna see how my skills par with that of a first division officer."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

whatever it is they've expected, it is definitely not this.

the new recruit, aiko, is one hell of a daunting person. they assumed she was going to just introduce herself and then everyone will continue to get the morning training done with.

but nope.

first a little presenting speech from captain ashiro, next an introduction from aiko, and then by the time they realized it, aiko is already up in vice-captain hoshina's face, eyes filled with a burning passion as she challenges him to a spar.

'is she for real?!' —majority of the officers think, for sure.

the fight ends after quite a while, unsurprisingly so due the to the fact that she was from the first division, but with hoshina taking the win, of course. he's the best at close combat, after all.

"that's quite a hit you took there, vice-captain." nakanoshima winces, as if feeling his pain herself. you have to agree with her as you help both hoshina and aiko to stand, "yeah, you pack a nasty punch, aiko." you chuckle.

hoshina rolls his eyes, running a hand through his violet strands. "hate to say this but true," he grunts as he stretches his shoulders.

from a distance, kafka, reno and kikoru watch as aiko straighten up to give her thanks, albeit curtly for the indistinct compliment. they wouldn't have commented anything about it if not for the deep blush dusting aiko's cheeks when she turns to leave, head bowing low to hide her flustered state.

almost instinctively, the three of them exchange glances at the same time as if to say y'all seeing what i'm seeing?. thus, their minds decidedly come up with the same conclusion.

aiko has a crush on vice-captain hoshina.

from that day forth, the third division starts to become an active witness to aiko taking up most of hoshina's time, asking and demanding him for this and that.

sparring sessions, subjugation operations, meal times, off-duty hours, literally everything. something they find weird, however, is that aiko does all of that with such a vexed behavior towards the vice-captain.

hoshina, the unwavering man that he is, stands up to her irksome challenges and still continues to humor her despite her many losses.

'are they into enemies-to-lovers or something?' the division members think. another thing they find weird, is how the situation(ship) between you and hoshina is still going on.

hence, aiko blushing and snapping at a smirking hoshina while you awkwardly watch at the side has become a daily occurrence at the tachikawa base.

'the vice-captain is definitely two-timing...', some of them would surmise.

kikoru, persistent with her belief that her vice-captain is not as sleazy as the others seem to start portraying him as, decides enough is enough. she'll freaking ask the man himself since no one has the balls to do it.

stomping through the hallways of the base, her boots pound vigorously on the floor with a purpose. she enters the training ground where most of the division members are, right away making a beeline towards hoshina who's deep in a conversation with the captain, with you and some other platoon leaders hovering nearby.

though she's only halfway there when aiko beats her to the punch.

"vice-captain hoshina," aiko starts, her eyes narrowing in scrutiny. hoshina stands his ground, sculpted arms crossing over his defined chest as he raises a perfectly thin brow at her. "anything i can help ya with, officer?" he questions.

"ooh, this will be interesting." nakanoshima muses hushedly, and ikaruga snickers from beside her. kikoru frowns, thinking how absurd it is that her platoon leaders are supporting hoshina's allegedly two-timing acts.

this whole situation has been going on for days, and there's no way she's gonna let it continue forever. not when she, and the other officers admire you so much to let you be disrespected like this. the least they could have is a simple confirmation on what is truly the case here.

and oh, a confirmation it is that they're getting.

"respectfully, sir, i demand you to break up with platoon leader l/n so that i can pursue them instead!" aiko exhorts, and a larger part of the division gasps in surprise, including kikoru herself.

say what now?! you and hoshina have already been dating this whole time???

not as shocked as the others, you facepalm yourself out of embarrassment. god, here we go again... you inwardly groan.

a tick mark appears on the side of hoshina's head, though the small smile remains on his face, never giving away his slowly dissipating composure. "and exactly why, pray tell, should i do that?"

"i believe i can treat them better than you do, vice-captain," aiko declares with a determined gaze, which only causes hoshina to start glaring at her. "bold of you to assume i'd let you even a meter close within their radius, let alone talk to them," he counters.

aiko crosses her own arms, not deterred in the slightest at the way hoshina looms over her smaller stature. "too bad. me and l/n-san have had several alone time together since i transferred here. they can vouch for that, i'm sure." she says, sticking her nose up in the air.

hoshina throws you a look of betrayal, making you freeze and smile sheepishly. in your defense, those meet-ups with aiko were completely platonic...

but your boyfriend already knows that, obviously. he knows you've been spending time and catching up with this... brat without him around. he's not worried that you might be cheating on him, because he wholeheartedly trusts you, he really does.

but that doesn't mean he won't get jealous about it. he himself hates feeling like this. it wrenches his gut, squeezes his chest in the most dreadful way that leaves a sour taste in his mouth. this green, monstrous emotion that eats up at his insides like fucking parasites.

hoshina wants to be the only one to make you smile and laugh, to make you think that he hung the stars in the sky for you himself and that he'd be the moon to your sun, to convince you that his world really does revolve around you.

and then this annoying little pest just keeps getting in his way, stealing away your time that you used to spend with him. your training periods, kaiju missions, meal times, off-duty hours, even the simple dates you two would have behind closed doors, basically your whole schedule that you share with him has been breached by aiko.

sensing the graveness of the situation, you decide to take matters into your own hand. "okay, first of all, can we calm down?" you hesitantly ask, not wanting to make a scene especially when captain ashiro is still here (she's observing with mild interest, much to everyone's ignorance) before turning to aiko. "hey, can we talk?"

hoshina watches with a hardened expression as you walk off with her to talk it out, eyes sharpened to an intense stare and tapping his foot incessantly on the ground with agitation even though he knows you're going reject her.

kikoru then looks over to her other platoon leaders who are sighing to each other with a knowing glint in their eyes. "i thought aiko-san was trying to get with vice-captain hoshina..." she quietly mutters to them.

nakanoshima gives her a funny look. "what?" she snorts, "nah~ it's always been those two fighting over y/n ever since their early days at the defense force. the three of them came from the same batch of recruits so they do have a bit of history together. but y/n and vice-captain hoshina just have that something special between them, you know what i'm sayin'?"

"yeah, they've been together for years now. if i remember correctly, only captain ashiro and okonogi-san were explicitly told about their relationship but i wonder how people haven't caught up on it yet considering they weren't exactly hiding it in the first place..." itakura says, and his subordinate adds dumbly, "but the vice-captain said platoon leader l/n is such a great friend to him...?"

ebina laughs in amusement, "oh, they are." when kikoru gives him a confused look, ikaruga decides to clarify. "they were friends first before they are partners. i'm sure vice-captain would still call y/n his friend if you were to ask him right now, because that's plainly the truth."

the pink haired woman then lets out a whistle, "but damn it was so entertaining to watch aiko and vice-captain hoshina wrangle each others' throats. it's been such a long time since i last saw him that upset," she chuckles.

the blonde girl blinks repeatedly, now worried for her fellow comrades. because she knows some of them are apparently harboring a secret crush on you.

sweet lord, if any word gets out about more people trying to get with his darling dearest, hoshina is in for a wild ride.

had to search up the kn8 wiki for the platoon leaders' names sigh p/s maybe it's time i rewatch horimiya.. — taglist @maruflix @pixelcafe-network ©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: ...

MC: Go ahead and take it. *referring to the lunchbox Ruggie’s been eyeing*

Ruggie: Tch. I'm not here for that. *his stomach growls*

MC: ...

Ruggie: ...

MC: You'll find extra spoons and forks in the bag.

Ruggie: I'll just use my hand to eat.

MC: Suit yourself.

*Ruggie eats while the MC sits quietly next to him.*

Ruggie: Goody two-shoes.

MC: *offers him a drink* I don’t think you should be insulting me while you’re eating my food.

Ruggie: *accepts it* I hate that you're being nice.

MC: ...

MC: Is it because it makes you feel bad?

Ruggie: ...Are you not gonna ask why we attacked you that day?

MC: People attack and hurt me for no reason. I don't think it's worth discussing further.

Ruggie: ...Yep, goody two-shoes.

MC: ...

MC: You mentioned in the infirmary that your failure would impact your dorm leader. What did you mean by that?

Ruggie: ...Leona signed a contract with that octo-punk. And since we didn't win the magic shift tournament...

Ruggie: He got this ugly ass sea anemone on his head.

MC: ...Sea anemone?

Ruggie: Yeah. Wanna go to Savanaclaw dorm to see it for yourself?

*In Savanaclaw dorm, the students whom MC defeated are looking at them with disdain.*

Savanaclaw student A: Why did you bring 'em here, Ruggie?

Savanaclaw student B: Yeah! You wanna humiliate us?!

Ruggie: Guys, calm down! Where's Leona?

Savanaclaw student C: Why should we tell you?!

MC: ...

Ruggie: Can't you guys listen for a second?

Savanaclaw student A: You brought that herbivore here!

MC: ...

MC: *decides to leave without drawing attention, guided by a small voice in their head indicating where Leona should be*

*Leona's room*

Leona: *grits his teeth as he struggles to pull the sea anemone off his head*

Leona: Grr!

MC: That must have hurt.

Leona: !!! *turns around* What are you doing here?

MC: Sorry for sneaking in.

Leona: ...Ah, you're here to make fun of me, aren't ya?

MC: ...

MC: Is it really hard to remove that?

Leona: Tch. What do you think?

MC: ...

MC: *slowly walks towards him, eyes fixed on the sea anemone*

Leona: *raises an eyebrow* What are you doing?

MC: *reaches for it, and pulls it off his head as if it were nothing*

Leona: ...

MC: ...

MC: Oh. *looks at Leona with concern* Did it hurt?

Leona: ...

Azul: *received a call from Leona*

Leona: *laughs at him mockingly* That's it?

Azul: *confused frown* What are you on about? Leona, if I need to remind you again, I won’t take you into account next time. I need you to fulfill your end of the bargain.

Leona: Ha! You won't be able to control me now.

Leona: I found a way to break the contract.

Azul: ...What?

Leona: *chuckles* Looks like your golden contract isn't that powerful at all.

Leona: Just hope I don't tell the others how I did it.

Azul: Leona!

Leona: *hangs up*

Azul: ...

Azul: Jade! Floyd! We have an emergency!

MC: ...

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Dear, why are you staring so intently at this sea anemone?

MC: ...

MC: Dada, could it be that I have magical abilities?

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *excitedly* Do you want to test it out, dear?

MC: *nods*

[punkshort]

Roommates | 9. hold onto each other

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You build up enough courage to finally talk things out with Joel and tell him how you feel before the wedding is over.

Chapter Warnings: language, food and alcohol consumption, lots of smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving), pussy pronouns, fluff, discussions of mental health, shower sex, mirror sex, having sex while on the phone (don't know what else to call it, also don't know if that requires a warning), thigh fucking?, dirty talk, idiots in love

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I will not apologize for what you're about to read. (It's filth. Pure, unadulterated filthy smut).

Series Masterlist

"That is the man you were roommates with?" your mother asked enviously as she gazed at Joel across the dance floor, who was standing with another groomsman while he held up his mom's pink sparkly phone to record her dancing with Tommy.

"Yep," you said longingly, tearing your eyes away from him to look back at your mom. She tilted her head to the side and her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"He looks familiar."

Your eyes widened and you tried your best not to scream into the palms of your hands as images of your own mother stumbling across Joel's porn filled your head.

She snapped her fingers with a smile. "Mitch and I saw him at the bar the other night! He must have been helping Tommy, he was carrying boxes of alcohol."

You shook your head. "No, Mom, that couldn't have been him."

"No, I'm certain it was. I remember even telling Mitch at the time they looked alike. And I would never forget those arms. The way they practically burst out of his T-shirt-"

"Mom!" you whined, begging her to stop.

She chuckled and took a sip of her wine. "Oh, please, let me have my fun."

You groaned and drank the rest of your champagne. Well, at least she didn't recognize him from porn.

The song changed to another ballad and you watched as Mrs. Miller kissed Tommy on the cheek before breaking away and motioning towards Joel. A small smile tugged at your lips as he pocketed her phone and took her hand before leading her around the dance floor. His face was filled with such love and adoration that it made your heart melt.

As you continued to watch Joel and his mother move around the dance floor, you felt yourself growing nervous again. Now that the cake was cut and the first dances were done, most of the significant parts of the wedding were over. Which meant soon you would need to muster the courage to talk to Joel.

Fuck, maybe you should have one more drink.

No, you didn't want to be drunk when you told him. He needed to know you meant what you said. You've done enough to him in the past year, jerking him around and unintentionally hurting his feelings. If you had any shot in hell, you had to make sure you were somewhat clearheaded.

Your mother was just finishing up her cake when she looked over your shoulder. Her eyes lit up excitedly and she straightened up in her seat, smoothing down her dress. With a frown, you turned to see what she was looking at then felt your heart skip a beat when you saw Joel approaching.

"Evenin'," he said to your mother, his voice deep and syrupy. "I'm Joel, brother of the groom." He stuck out his hand and your mother giddily handed hers over while giving her name. He brought her knuckles to his lips and she giggled, making you roll your eyes.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she gushed, her cheeks tinting pink already.

"Pleasure's all mine, ma'am," he answered, dropping her hand with a smirk. She gave you a look and raised her eyebrows.

"Ma'am, did you hear that?" she loudly whispered to you.

"Yes, I am sitting right here," you said flatly.

Joel cleared his throat and you looked back up at him.

"Was wonderin' if I could have this dance," he said to you, then glanced at your mother. "If you could spare her, that is."

Your mother giggled again and waved him off. "Of course! You two have fun, I was getting ready to go home soon anyway."

You quickly said your goodbyes to your mom before allowing Joel to lead you out onto the dance floor. He took one of your hands and held it out to your side, the other sliding around your waist while you rested your hand on his shoulder with a smile.

"I'm so honored," you told him with a teasing lilt to your voice as he slowly lead you around the dance floor.

"Why?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"I haven't seen you dancing with anyone else except your mom."

He smirked and tilted his chin up to look somewhere over the top of your head. "You been watchin' me?"

Your cheeks warmed from embarrassment but you didn't really care. "Maybe."

He hummed, smirk still stretched across his lips as he looked around the banquet room, but he wasn't really looking at anyone or anything in particular.

"You look handsome."

His eyebrows shot up and he looked down at you once again. "Thank you?"

You giggled and felt his fingers grip your waist a little tighter. "Is that a question?"

He grinned and shook his head. "Tryin' to flatter me, what're you up to?"

The butterflies began to stir in your belly once again so you dropped your gaze. "Well, there is something I wanted to talk to you about."

The smile slowly slid from his face when he heard the serious tone to your voice. "Everythin' okay?"

"Y-yeah, everything's fine," you quickly assured him. Just then, Michael Bublé's voice faded out and the DJ picked a Black Eyed Peas song that instantly caused the dance floor to break out into cheers, completely ruining the atmosphere from a moment ago. "Nevermind," you said as you attempted to step away, but he tightened his grip. "I'll tell you some other time."

"Tell me now."

You winced when a handful of girls nearby began to drunkenly scream along to the lyrics. Joel looked frustrated when he finally dropped his hand from your waist but kept his other hand firmly wrapped around yours. "Follow me."

He lead you through the crowd and as you passed by your abandoned table, you grabbed your clutch. Shit. Were you really going to do this? Were you really going to pour your heart out to him in the middle of his brother's wedding? What if he shot you down? What if he got mad at you for trying to drag him into your messy life once again? What if you were about to ruin the fragile relationship you just rebuilt?

He pulled you into the lobby, which was relatively empty given the time of night, and found a small area with a few couches and chairs and a television airing the local news on mute with the closed captioning on.

"Alright," he urged when you sat down next to him on one of the couches. You could hear the bass thumping from the closed banquet room and people's laughter echoing over the music, but otherwise it was quiet. You fiddled with the hem of your dress, trying to give your nerves a chance to settle, but it was no use.

"So, I told you I've been in therapy," you began, staring down at your lap, pretending to find a loose thread in your dress.

"Mhm."

"Lately, I've been working on my insecurities and self destructive tendencies. Specifically, related to you."

His fingers that were once casually tapping on the back of the sofa suddenly stopped.

"Okay..." he said slowly.

You cleared your throat and kept your eyes pinned to your lap.

"... and your job," you added, biting the inside of your cheek. "I've been working on... learning to be okay with it. Focusing on the source of my insecurities and why I feel the way I feel about it and I think I've made some progress."

"That's... good," he told you, clearly confused. "But why are you tellin' me this?"

You sucked in a deep breath and forced yourself to look at him. He was staring at you softly with his perfect lips pouting so enticingly, giving you the final bit of courage you needed to say what you wanted to say.

"I'm telling you this because... because I want to be with you, Joel. If you'll give me another chance, I want to do this right." His expression remained unchanged so you barreled ahead. "I don't care about your job. Not anymore. I just want to be with you. You make me happy, you make me laugh, I think about you all the time." You were growing more nervous with every passing second where he didn't say anything, so you continued to fill the silence with your own rambling thoughts. "Any time something good happens, I want to call you. Any time something bad happens, I want to call you. It's always you. It's always been you. And I'm sorry for everything I put you through and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to fix myself, but I couldn't -"

"Stop."

Your words died in your throat at his harsh tone. Biting your lip, you closed your eyes and tried not to cry as you waited for the sting of his rejection, but to your surprise, it never came. Instead, you felt his fingers gently pinch your chin. You opened your eyes to find him leaning forward, his gaze seeming angry despite his soft touch.

"You don't need to fix yourself," he said bitterly. "You're fuckin' perfect."

You exhaled loudly, a dry chuckle slipping past your lips as you wiped away a tear or two. "I'm not."

"You are," he told you firmly before finally closing the distance between you and brushing his lips softly against yours. "You are," he whispered again and again, each sweet kiss becoming more urgent than the last. You grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands and held him close, pressing your mouth against his tightly before leaning back and pushing your foreheads together with a smile.

"Is that a yes?" you laughed.

"'Course it is, you kiddin' me?" he said quietly before sliding his hand up to grip the back of your neck, his nose gently nudging yours, the both of you taking a few tender moments to soak everything in with matching smiles. "I should probably tell you somethin', though."

One hand dropped from his collar and you tipped your head back a fraction so you could look him in the eye. "What?"

He grinned and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I quit my job."

Your eyes widened and you leaned all the way back in surprise. "What?!"

"Months ago, actually," he said with a laugh. You smacked him on the shoulder but you weren't mad. In fact, you were smiling so much it almost hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I didn't wanna pressure you. You said you were workin' on yourself and all that."

Your lower lip trembled and you smacked his shoulder again, but with less force. "I can't believe you," you whispered before tugging him forward and sliding your tongue past his lips with a moan. There was something so beautiful to be had in that moment. Each of you had done something monumental to try to make it work between you and it was so moving, so powerful that you found yourself getting carried away, completely forgetting where you were as you climbed into his lap, his hands immediately dropping to squeeze your ass. But who could blame you, when you've waited so long for that moment?

Joel pulled his head back with a sharp inhale, breaking the kiss when he heard a door across the lobby open and close. "Do you... we oughta... they're probably wonderin' where we are." He lifted one arm so he could check the time on his watch, then glanced back up at you. You were staring down at him, breathless and needy, your eyes already drifting back down to his mouth.

You didn't need to say anything.

"Fuck it, c'mon," he said, quickly lifting you off his lap so you could both stand. In your eagerness to race to the elevator, you almost forgot your purse. Doubling back as fast as your heels would carry you, you grabbed it from the couch and hurried back just as the elevator doors opened.

He jabbed the L4 button numerous times until the damn doors slid shut.

"Christ, wanted this for so long," he whispered, eyes squeezing shut when you pushed him up against the side of the elevator. "Wanted you for so long," he corrected himself after a moment. Your mouth found the exposed patch of chest at the top of his shirt and your tongue slipped out between your lips, flicking against his skin as you continued to leave wet kisses everywhere you could find. You made it to the hollow of his throat when the elevator dinged and you tore yourself away to drag him down the hall.

"Which room?"

"Don't care."

You picked yours. Your fingers were shaking as you raked through your small clutch, then tapped the hard plastic against the sensor, getting frustrated when you were going too quick and the door wouldn't open. Joel chuckled behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, digging his hips against your ass so you could feel his arousal through your clothes.

"Not helping," you muttered before forcing yourself to slow down and finally the door gave way and you stumbled inside.

His mouth was on you in an instant. Eager lips pressed against your own, champagne soaked tongues reunited, tangling together while you recklessly shoved his tuxedo coat over his shoulders, leaving it crumpled on the floor near the bathroom as you made your way to the bed.

Joel's hands slid up and down the back of your dress, fingers plucking at the fabric, trying to locate the zipper without having to pull away. You tugged one of his hands to your side without looking, blindly leading him to his target. He smiled against your lips and yanked the zipper down so fast, he nearly tore the fabric.

Leaving your dress in a pile at the foot of your bed, you pulled away from the kiss so you could fall back onto the mattress. Your chests were heaving in unison as you both fought for air, staring at one another, anticipation growing thick.

His eyes drifted down your almost naked body while his fingers worked the buttons on his dress shirt, lips parted to suck in more air as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Is this real?" he asked, eyes catching yours once again after he shrugged off his shirt.

"I think so," you replied quietly, sounding just as incredulous. "I hope so."

He loudly unbuckled his belt, then the fly of his pants as you laid before him, sprawled out over the plush comforter like an offering.

"Ain't ever lettin' you go after this," he warned as he stepped out of his pants. "Never again, hear me?"

You nodded. "Please don't."

He cupped his palms around the backs of your knees and tugged, pulling you to the edge of the bed with one rough motion.

"As pretty as these are, they gotta go," he murmured, hooking his fingers around the lace edge of your panties and sliding them down your legs. A little pained sound rumbled in the back of his throat when he spread your knees and saw the evidence of your arousal between your legs. He fell to his knees and rested the side of his face against your thigh as he gazed down at your aching center.

"Missed you," he whispered lovingly into your folds before dragging his tongue, slow and broad, through the entire length of your slit.

"Oh, my god," you whined when his lips puckered around your clit and gently sucked. "Were you talking to me or her?"

You felt his lips twitch against your sensitive skin and released your bundle of nerves with a little moan. "Was talkin' to her but I missed you, too."

Some sharp, sarcastic comment was on the verge of slipping past your lips but quickly got swallowed down and forgotten when he began to lick, his tongue probing into your cunt while his upper lip pressed against your clit. The friction from his beard on the most sensitive part of your body made you see stars. Your back arched and you cried out his name, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he continued to lick and suck with a deep groan.

"Joel," you whimpered, legs weakly stretching and kicking under his ministrations. He quickly put a stop to that by grabbing both and tossing them over his shoulders then using his hands to grip your thighs, but still you writhed in his hold.

"Y'got know idea what you do to me," he whispered under his breath before diving back in.

"Fuck... I-I can't..." you panted, fists grabbing the comforter, pulling and tugging, desperate to grab onto anything. His fingers dug into the crease of your thighs, holding your hips against his face, fucking you relentlessly with his tongue as if he were afraid he would never get a chance to do it again.

He slid one hand flat over your mound and pressed down on your clit with his thumb. You bucked off the bed, everything feeling too sensitive, too sharp. But still, he pinned you down, his tongue that was once lapping at your pussy suddenly more focused and calculated when his lips puckered together in favor of loudly kissing your sex with a deep groan.

With two quick and firm circles over your clit, you fell apart. He was saying something, you could feel the vibrations of his voice, but you had no idea what he said. Your throat had grown hoarse, fingers grabbing for his hair while your heart pounded in your ears.

"It ain't ever been like this," he said, and finally you were able to understand him. You slowly opened your eyes to find him hovering over you, his beard and mouth shiny with your slick and his eyes so wide and soft it made your chest ache.

"I know," you whispered, running a hand through his hair. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed when you pulled him close and pressed your mouth against his. He pushed you up the bed so your head rested on the pillows, never once breaking the deep kiss. It was slower, now. There was no rush, no need to hurry to keep what you had a secret.

"Shit, my condoms are 'cross the hall," he mumbled against your lips. The very last thing he wanted to do was leave you. Not now. Not ever.

"Just make sure you pull out," you told him, apparently also unwilling to let him leave, and reached down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

"Y-yeah, okay... okay," he breathed when he felt you line him up with your entrance.

His brain went numb and his features went slack as he slowly eased inside you. He couldn't take his eyes off your face; the way your eyebrows pinched together and the sound you made when you gasped softly, your body being forced to adjust to his size after months without him.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes welling with tears as you gazed up at him.

"I know, I know," he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over your nose.

"Joel, I love you," you whimpered in his ear when he finally buried himself fully inside you.

"What?" he asked breathlessly, certain he misunderstood.

"I love you," you repeated, your teeth nipping at his chin as you writhed underneath him, willing him to move. His eyes squeezed shut and he wrapped his arms around your middle, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"I love you, too," he choked out, voice thick with emotion that he tried to stifle with kisses to your throat and jaw. "Love you so fuckin' much. Always did, I think."

He clenched his jaw and flexed his hips, pulling a sweet moan from your lips as you tipped your head back and closed your eyes. He was so slow with it, making sure you felt every inch when he dragged his cock in and out, your arousal painting his inner thighs every time his hips made contact with your skin. You might have felt embarrassed if you both weren't so preoccupied with trading love bites and occasionally whispering you feel so good, I missed you, I love you, I love you, I love you, chests pressed together, desperate to get as close as possible.

You unhooked your ankles from his lower back and slid your legs up his sides so your knees were resting near his ribs. With his tongue still tangled with yours, he blindly reached down to grab one of your thighs and gently pressed forward, pushing your knee towards your chest. Your eyes flew open and you gasped at the intense angle, but still he kept up the same pace. Every thrust was slow and deep, every groan was low and soft, and every whisper sounded like a prayer.

"Just wanna feel you," he murmured against your neck, his beard scraping your skin, making it feel warmer than it already was. "Wanna fuck you like this always. Shit, baby," he moaned when he felt you clench around him. "Shit, that feels good. Such a soft pussy..." he trailed off and latched onto your lips for a fast and messy kiss. "Oh, fuck... best fuckin' pussy I've ever had."

And oh, did you love hearing that. You smiled and threaded your fingers through his hair, nails scraping gently over his scalp with a deep sigh.

"Yeah? You love her, too?"

He grinned. "Y'know I do."

He hitched your other leg over his arm, practically bending you in half while grinding into you, watching as your breath quickened and your tongue shot out to wet your lips. "Joel," you whined, the pressure mounting low in your belly, "I'm close, I'm... fuck, I'm gonna come. Please," you begged, not really sure what you were begging for in the first place. Maybe for him to keep going. Maybe for him to kiss you again. Maybe for him to fill the hole in your heart that's been destroying you for months.

When you came, you squeezed around his cock, his name getting caught in your throat when his mouth crashed over yours.

"So pretty," he mumbled, voice a little strained as he tried to keep it together long enough for you to come down. "Love watchin' you come. Who makes you feel good, baby?"

"You do," you whimpered, weak fingers grabbing at his shoulders.

"'S'right," he said, his breath growing ragged. He could feel his stomach tensing and he knew he only had a few more moments. "Only me. Tell me you're mine," he pleaded, his sweaty forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"I'm yours, Joel," you told him, voice a little clearer but still shaky. "And you're mine," you added softly, corner of your mouth lifting when you heard him groan.

He pulled out and grabbed his cock, giving it only a few quick strokes before he painted your stomach with his release, the both of you watching in a daze until he stopped with a shudder and collapsed onto the bed next to you, chest heaving with an arm draped tiredly over his eyes.

"I'll get somethin'," he told you, gesturing vaguely towards your stomach with his eyes still hidden. "Just... gimme a second."

"Mhmm," you mumbled, catching your breath with your arms stretched above your head. "I need a shower, anyway," you told him, all the hair products and makeup from the past twelve hours beginning to feel like paint.

"Oh?" he questioned, sounding disappointed when he turned his face to you. "Okay, sure."

"Will you stay?" you asked, hating how pathetic you sounded. But he smiled warmly and pinched your chin before planting a soft kiss against your lips.

"'Course I'll stay," he whispered, kissing you slowly once more before releasing you.

Joel watched with a lazy smirk as you stood with a quiet ow under your breath, your body no doubt already sore.

"Gonna have to get that pretty pussy used to me again," he teased, laughing and dodging the pillow you grabbed from the other bed that you chucked in his direction before entering the bathroom and shutting the door.

He laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the water turn on and the shower door close. He kept waiting to wake up, kept thinking the past hour was some crazy dream or fantasy, but it was real.

You loved him.

For years, he tried to find someone like you. Someone who would love him for him and not just use him. Sure, in the beginning he didn't mind being used. But the past few years he found to be painfully lonely. Especially once Tommy met Maria, that ache in his chest grew every time he saw them together, or every time he heard Tommy on the phone or talk about her with such fondness in his eyes. Selfishly, he always wondered why not me?

Now he had his answer. He was just waiting for you.

He heard you humming in the shower, your voice echoing off the glass walls and he smiled. He imagined you in there cleaning yourself up, your perfect body all soapy and wet and he felt his cock twitch.

"Shit," he muttered, lifting the thin sheet to see himself begin to swell once again. Would it always be like this? Would he always have an insatiable appetite for you?

A minute later and he was almost fully hard once more. He palmed it over the sheet and he looked longingly at the closed bathroom door. What was taking so long?

Then a smirk spread across his face and he jumped up from the bed, cock bobbing at attention between his legs as he walked to the bathroom and quietly opened the door.

The mirror was fogged up and so were the glass shower walls. He could hardly see you through all the steam, but he heard you. He heard the water cascading off your body and your fingers running through your wet hair.

Carefully, he opened the door and was pleased to find your back was to him as you rinsed out the last of your conditioner. When he wrapped his arms around your waist, you jumped and screamed a little before collapsing into a fit of laughter and turning around in his arms. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. All the makeup was down the drain but you looked more radiant than ever.

He leaned forward for a wet kiss, his hands sliding down to cup and squeeze your ass before pulling on your hips, tugging you closer so you could feel how hard he was for you.

"Need you," he murmured, but he meant more than just the obvious. He didn't want to be without you now that he had you, not even for a second.

"Already?" you breathed, but he just nodded, his lips dragging down your neck, your skin smelling like roses and vanilla.

"Too much?" he asked, mouth trailing slowly over your shoulder. Your nipples were pressed against his chest and his cock nearly hurt from how hard he was.

"No," you whispered, letting your eyes slide shut as you curled your arms around his neck. "Never too much."

Without hesitation, he crouched and grabbed the backs of your thighs, hauling you off the ground so he could press your back against the glass. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gasped when the tip of his cock nudged at your opening, the width surprising you, even still.

You let out a loud moan when he pressed forward, sinking himself back into your sore, aching heat, right where he belonged. One of his hands supported your ass and the other was flat against the glass next to your head, his fingers leaving wet smudges as he rocked his hips into you, swallowing down every whine and moan that tumbled from your mouth. That perfect fucking mouth he dreamed about for the past year. And now it was all his.

"God, Joel, yes... right there," you cried out, cunt already pulsing and gripping him so tight that he had half a mind not to pull out that time.

"Yeah?" he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he nipped at your chin, watching as your head rolled listlessly against the foggy glass while he drove into you over and over. "There?"

"Yeah," you practically whined, hand shooting up to grab his hair, fingers slipping through his wet curls. "No one's ever... I can't... you're so-" you rambled half formed thoughts as your heart hammered in your chest, your orgasm steadily climbing, unable to tell him what you wanted to tell him.

"No one's what, baby?" he growled, thrusting himself impossibly deeper inside your cunt. "No one's ever fucked you this good? Huh?"

"No," you whimpered, biting down on your lower lip.

"What else? No one's ever made you come this much? Tell me, I wanna hear it," he groaned in your ear, his hot breath melting with the steam from the shower.

You shook your head then nodded, as if you didn't know how to answer. And you couldn't. Not when he was fucking you like it would be the last time.

"No one's ever - oh, fuck," you gasped, swallowing a mouthful of air, "no one's ever m-made me feel so good. I've never w-wanted anyone the way I want you." You squeezed your eyes shut but he quickly bit your jaw, forcing them back open.

"Keep your eyes on me."

You nodded, jaw half open as you did as you were told. His brows were furrowed deep, eyes wild and skin flushed as he pounded into you, forcing you over the edge for the third time in less than two hours.

"I got you," he murmured when your body sagged from the effort. He wrapped both arms around you now and fucked up into you recklessly, chasing his own high as quickly as possible so he could take you back to bed and rest.

Even though the voice inside his head was screaming at him to come inside you, he miraculously pulled out, spilling himself all over the shower wall between your legs.

"You okay?" he asked breathlessly, setting you down but still holding onto your shoulders. You nodded and slumped against his chest, legs visibly shaking. He chuckled and reached for the shower knob, turning the water off before walking you towards the door. Swinging it open, he reached out blindly for a towel. Finding one, he wrapped it around your shoulders, swaddling you and keeping you warm while he reached for another.

He messily knotted it around his waist and led you to bed. You didn't even bother to put any pajamas on or remove the towel, you just buried yourself under the covers with a contented sigh.

Joel was about to turn back to the bathroom and clean up a bit before you spoke.

"Come to bed."

His heart clenched in his chest and he smiled as he rounded the bed and slid under the sheets to join you, unable to resist.

Quickly, you scooted over to him, tossing a leg over his stomach and an arm over his chest and buried your face against his neck. He held you close, breathing in deep before you whispered, "I love you, Joel."

"I love you, too," he spoke into your hair, his chest ready to burst with happiness as you both fell into a deep sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, you smiled before you even opened your eyes. Joel's natural scent combined with the floral shampoo you used that the hotel had left out filled your nostrils. You breathed in deep and buried your face further into his warm, bare chest. He stretched underneath you, muscles pulling under his tanned skin, his fingers digging into your shoulders as he flexed.

"Morning," you whispered groggily, eyes still closed. You felt his arms wrap around you as he rolled onto his side, tugging you against him.

"Mornin'."

It can always be like this now, you thought. Waking up next to each other whenever you wanted. No sneaking around, no more hiding how you felt. It was perfect.

Until Joel's phone rang shrilly on his nightstand. He groaned and, keeping one arm securely around you, reached behind him to grab it.

"Hello?" he answered, voice thick and rough with sleep. Your body responded instantly, your core softening at his voice like it was a command, but what came with it was also a tight hint of soreness from the night before.

You could hear Tommy's voice through the phone, but you couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Nah, I'm hungover as shit, gonna order somethin'," Joel said.

You thought he had been joking the night before about getting your body used to him again, but you began to realize he was probably being serious the more you squirmed around and felt the stiffness in your muscles and hips.

"Yeah, alright. If I don't see ya later, I'll catch ya at the bar tomorrow."

He tapped his screen and tossed his phone haphazardly behind him with a smirk. "C'mere," he murmured, pressing his swollen lips against yours, his hand drifting to cup your face.

Christ, you were sore but you still wanted him so badly.

You flicked your tongue against the seam of his lips, deepening the kiss the second he dropped his jaw. Right when you were about to curl your leg around his hip and roll over to straddle him, your own phone began to vibrate loudly against your nightstand.

You both froze, lips still seared together, then slowly opened your eyes.

"Hold on," you grumbled, rolling over so your back was to Joel, then picked up your phone.

"It's Maria."

"Answer it," he said, inching closer. He pulled you back against his chest, cock hard and pressing between your bodies as you begrudgingly answered the phone.

"Hey! Have a fun night?" you asked cheerily. Your eyes snapped up to see movement in the full length mirror across from the bed. It was narrow, but you could see from your stomach down. Joel was pushing the sheets off himself and you watched as his hand drifted in front of you, tugging the sheet away from your chest, exposing yourself to the cool air. When he palmed one of your breasts from behind, you had to bite back a moan so Maria wouldn't hear.

"So much fun! I hardly got any sleep," she was saying, but you could barely hear her when his fingers slid down to pinch your nipple. You turned your face upwards to gasp softly, hoping it didn't get picked up by the receiver.

"Yeah?" you asked, hoping that would be enough to encourage her, and it was.

Maria kept babbling about things that happened the night before, things you missed after you and Joel snuck away. She was telling you something about a groomsman who attempted to do a split in the middle of the dance floor and ended up ripping his pants when you saw Joel lift your leg in the mirror, hooking it around his inner elbow and spreading your hips wide. Embarrassment flushed your face when you saw your pussy in the mirror, already glistening with arousal.

Then his cock slipped between your legs, nudging at your folds, his smooth tip coating itself in your slick before he pushed forward, parting your swollen cunt. The pain was brief, yet intense, but you were entirely distracted with the way it looked in the mirror. How fucking big he was and how you opened up and stretched so beautifully for him.

"Did the phone cut out?"

"Huh?" you squeaked, eyes transfixed on your reflection, hips rocking steadily in rhythm with his. You felt him chuckle behind you, his arm pulling your leg up even more so you could see everything.

"I asked if you wanted to join us for breakfast? The rest of the bridal party is meeting at the restaurant downstairs in twenty minutes."

Fuck, he felt so good. Combined with the visual, it was almost too much.

"Uh, I'm gonna pass. I already ate, I'm pretty full," you told her, eyes briefly fluttering shut when he began to move faster, his skin lightly slapping against your ass. You thought you heard him mumble yeah, you are, and you had to bite down hard on your lower lip.

"Well, okay. If you change your mind, we'll be down there at ten."

"Okay, thanks! I better go, my mom's beeping in. I'll call you later," you said hurriedly, hoping you weren't being too rude but if you stayed on the phone with her for one more minute, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide what you were really doing.

Mercifully, she hung up and you tossed your phone onto the floor, uncaring where it ended up, and reached behind you to curl your fingers around the back of Joel's head. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was messy and heated, and the way you had to twist your neck was awkward, but it didn't matter.

"Fuck yeah, baby. Look how good you take me," he groaned in your ear when he spotted you glancing towards the mirror again. "So pretty, ain't it?"

"Mhmm," you whined, still entranced by the way his thick cock split you open and you knew for sure in that moment no one else would ever come close to Joel. You were stupid to try to fight it.

Your hand dropped to clutch your pillow, your stomach drawing tighter the faster he snapped his hips, every devastating thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," you whimpered, and he readjusted his grip on your leg, prying you open as wide as you would go.

You felt his teeth graze your shoulder, his breath hot and quick as his exhale puffed against your skin.

"That's right. Come all over my cock, baby. Give it t'me," he growled, hips slamming into you from behind so forcefully it almost pushed you off the bed, each thrust driving him deeper and deeper inside you.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you cried out when you came, your walls pulsing around his length, your body trying to suck him in and keep him there and fuck if he didn't want that, too.

At the last second he pulled out, watching in a daze as he dropped your leg, his cock now sandwiched between your thighs. With a deep groan, he watched in the mirror as he shot thick, white ropes of his seed all over your legs and the hotel sheets.

"I love you," he gasped, his sweaty forehead pressed against your upper back as he dragged in mouthfuls of air, waiting for his pulse to settle. "'M sorry, can't stop sayin' it."

You reached behind you and found his hand. Lacing your fingers together, you wrapped his arm around your middle, mumbling I love you, too, never tiring of it.

You waited a respectable amount of time for the bridal party to eat and leave the restaurant before venturing downstairs together, hand in hand. You contemplated just ordering room service but you weren't entirely certain you could keep your hands off each other long enough to eat, so forcing yourselves to leave the room felt like the best option.

The hostess led you to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, the room still buzzing with activity even though it was late in the morning. Your fingers linked together across the table as you sipped your coffees, exchanging little smirks whenever your eyes met.

"Can I ask you a question?" Joel asked, and you almost found yourself laughing at how serious he suddenly looked.

"Of course."

He glanced around the dining room quickly before leaning across the table. "You ain't on birth control anymore?"

You knocked the heel of your hand against your forehead. "I'm sorry, I should've told - no, I'm not. I took myself off the pill because I wasn't... y'know," you trailed off, embarrassment creeping up your neck.

Joel couldn't stop his smirk when he put it together so he pursed his lips and tilted his face toward the table, trying to hide it before saying, "so you're tellin' me you didn't have sex with anyone else since me?"

"Don't act so proud," you teased with a grin.

"I ain't," he said defensively, then thought about it for a moment before laughing. "Okay, maybe I am."

You giggled as you watched him take a sip of coffee, daydreaming about your future together and all the endless breakfasts you'll share. You imagined getting up early for work and showering, then coming into the kitchen to find Joel in just his pajama bottoms pouring you both coffees with unkept hair, asking if you saved him enough hot water because he still had to get ready for work.

Work. Suddenly, your smile fell when you remembered something. "Wait, you said you quit your job?" you asked, and he nodded, his thumb rubbing against the inside of your wrist. "So what do you do now?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "You ain't gonna believe it."

"Try me," you teased, knees bumping together under the table. You were close but still felt so far apart.

"I bought the bar," he said, sounding almost sheepish. Your eyes widened in surprise.

"Our bar? Tommy's bar?" you questioned, and he nodded. "H-how?"

He chuckled again and raked his fingers through his hair with his free hand. "What'dya mean how? With money."

"Yeah, I figured that," you said with a roll of your eyes, "but you just bought a house, too. How can you afford all that?"

He opened his mouth to reply when the server came to drop off your food. You finally unlinked your hands so you could pick up your silverware, and only once your waitress left did he respond to your question.

"Porn paid good," he said with a shrug. "I did it for a long time and I lived with my brother payin' next to nothin' in rent and utilities."

"Wow," you breathed in awe before shoveling some eggs in your mouth.

He watched you eat quietly for a few minutes before clearing his throat, drawing your attention from your breakfast.

"Why didn't you just ask me to quit? I woulda done it."

You paused your chewing and set your fork down on your plate.

"Because," you began, swallowing your food. "I couldn't ask you to do that for me. It wouldn't feel right and I was afraid if I did, you would grow to resent me."

His brows furrowed and he reached a hand across the table for you. "I woulda never resented you."

"You don't know that," you told him.

"I wasn't happy doin' it. Not like I used to be, anyway," he said. "Kept me from havin' certain things in my life. Could never make a relationship work and as I got older, it was somethin' I really wanted. I just didn't know how to get out. I mean, who can put somethin' like that on a resume?" he laughed softly. "Then Tommy mentioned his boss was lookin' to retire and I thought, hell... won't have to put shit on a resume if I'm my own boss."

You nodded and squeezed his hand, feeling guilty for never realizing he had his own internal struggles going on. Then you swallowed nervously before asking your next question, your curiosity unable to be ignored.

"Well, what about Sadie?" you asked, "she seemed really into you and she obviously wouldn't have had a problem with your career."

He gave you a small smile, eyes flashing with guilt when he thought back to his brief date with Sadie. The night he invited her over for board games and he ended up going down on you in the bathroom while she was left to talk to strangers in the living room.

"She was nice but there wasn't anythin' there. Not really. I was jealous of Sam and knew she liked me... I shouldn't've asked her over that night. It was wrong," he admitted, rubbing his chin. "She never stood a chance. She wasn't you, baby," he said softly.

You felt your chest clench from the tortured look in his eye, and for the millionth time you mentally berated yourself for spending so much time avoiding your feelings for him. Choosing not to deny yourself any longer, you stood up from your chair and closed the short distance between you. Cupping his face with both your hands, you leaned down and kissed him, trying your very best to put every ounce of love you had into it. It must have worked because you could feel his lips curving into a smile, then yours did the same.

It didn't matter how long it took, what mattered was what you had now.

Unfortunately, your bliss was short lived when you heard an all too familiar voice shriek excitedly behind you. You tore yourself away to swivel around in surprise, only to find Tommy and Maria standing a few tables away with their jaws hung open in shock, very clearly having witnessed your kiss.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, tugging on Tommy's arm to drag him over to your table. "I knew something was up when neither of you wanted to join us for food!"

Cheeks blazing hot with embarrassment, you were about to return to your chair but Joel's arm wrapped around you, pulling you to sit sideways in his lap. "No more hidin', yeah?" he murmured in your ear. You grinned and gave him one more quick peck.

"Yeah," you agreed right before they approached. "No more hiding."

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Difficult VI

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're a racing star

Ingrid can remember it like it was yesterday.

It wasn't the best race she'd watched, not with you crashing out from third position on the first lap, not when you'd fallen from your bike and rolled on the floor for a bit.

But then you'd gotten up again and you'd gotten back onto your bike and sped off to catch the pack.

It'd been a brutal battle for you to make up the places you lost and then from last you were second, closing in on first around the second to last corner.

Ingrid can remember the commentators when she watched the race back.

"And...Oh my god, Redbull's Rookie sweep pasts her championship rival! From last to first at the first Barcelona MotoGP race, it's the home favourite! The Norwegian raised in Barcelona, the Rookie in her first year! Y/n Engen-León crosses the line! Her first win! One of many I think!"

Ingrid can remember it all so clearly as you parked your bike, took off your helmet and ran at her, sobbing into her shoulder.

It was your first year in MotoGP. It was your first race win too and you sobbed like that little girl who once watched Ingrid lift the Champion's League trophy.

And, now, you're here.

"I'm Max Verstappen, former Formula One driver."

"And I'm Y/n Engen-León, current MotoGP champion and I'm going to be trading in my motorbike for a Formula One car."

You'd been a Redbull girl since your very first race at the tender age of five. It had been on one of the dirt tracks in Mapi's hometown and a Redbull representative had come up to you all at the end of the race to discuss your potential.

From there, you'd grown up driving for Redbull. You'd driven for them in Motocross and then now in MotoGP too.

You were more than happy to drag Ingrid and Mapi along to your interviews and opportunities.

But Ingrid has to admit to some degree of fear seeing you in Max Verstappen's old championship winning car.

It had taken years for Ingrid to get used to you on a bike and while a car is meant to be safer, that fear increases tenfold as she watches you mess around with the steering wheel and test out the pedals.

"I like this," You say to the camera before turning to your parents," Mumma, Mami, check this out."

Always eager, Mapi practically prances forward to look at where you're pointing. Ingrid follows a little more slowly, a tense smile on her face.

"It'll be fine, Mumma," You say, reaching out to take her hand," I'll be okay. I was made for this kind of thing."

As Ingrid watches you peal onto the track, she can't help but think that you're kind of right. You've adored all types of racing since you were tiny, the little daredevil that you were.

It was just luck that Mapi's father got you a bike instead of a kart or else you would have ended up in one of these cars rather than your bike.

You had a need for speed and a racer's disregard for speeding laws.

You took to all forms of racing as you turn through a corner neatly and cross the line.

"Woo!" You say, pumping your fist as you step out," That was good. Was it good?"

Max Verstappen looks up from the data, nodding. "Two seconds off the reference lap."

You grin. "Not so bad for my first time, huh?"

He purses his laps, eyes studying you. "I think you could do better."

Your grin stretches into a smirk. "I know I could do better."

You do lap after lap after lap until your barely one-hundredth of a second off your reference lap.

Ingrid knows, in theory, that Formula One racing is different to your racing but you make it look so easy. You look like you've been racing cars your entire life.

"Look at her," Mapi says in awe," Look! Look!"

Your last lap is your best, one tenth faster than the reference and you're grinning like you've just won your home race again.

Your fists pump up as you jump from the car, pulling off your helmet.

"Did you see? Mumma, Mami? Did you see?"

"I got a video!" Mapi says," I'll send it to your Abuelo, he'll be so excited to see this!"

After your drive in the car, you end up in another interview with Verstappen.

You've become quite the star in your racing series and the team are really trying to capitalise on it.

"Yeah, I mean," Ingrid catches you saying," I've been racing since I was little. My Abuelo got me my first bike when I was still young and we had to hide it from my Mumma for months because she didn't approve."

Ingrid can still remember seeing you on your first bike. She can still remember thinking that it was surprising they made ones that small. She can still remember your racing suit and your helmet and the joy you got out of something simple as going up and down the bumps of the dirt track.

"I don't think I can even explain what I felt when I won in my rookie year. It means so much to me and my parents had to sacrifice a lot to help me on my journey. I didn't have quite as much success in Motocross as I'm having in MotoGP right now. I know my Mumma would prefer if I chose a safer sport but I think that's why I try so hard. I want to prove to her that despite all these injuries and despite all the danger, she did a good thing in letting me keep racing. I could have driven under Spain's flag if I wanted but Mumma's Norwegian and I'm Norwegian and I want to make her proud."

Something in Ingrid breaks then and she turns her head into Mapi's neck, tears falling from her eyes as she tries not to sob out loud.

Of course she's proud of you. She's so proud of you. She'll always be proud of you.

With or without a championship.

"And of course, my Mami and her family are the ones that got me into racing. Her father used to be my mechanic when I was a kid and Mami was always signing me up for races and supporting me when I got hurt. She designs all my helmets. I think my first win at Barcelona was really the culmination of all the hard work she put into me and my racing."

Verstappen nods along with you. "Would you say that your mothers are your biggest supporters?"

You grin. "Definitely."

[retiredteabag]

I don't get it... but I'll do it for you

synopsis: Nanami tries to do asmr for you after a long day…

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

I am obsessed with the idea of showing partner!nanami asmr.... You two would be lying in bed, it would probably start with him asking if you always needed white noise to fall asleep.

"I'm not sure honestly" You would begin, "But I like a lot of noises, I even find your breathing to be relaxing."

"My breathing?" He would smile, gazing at your desperate nods.

"I'm serious! I don't know what it is... I could be wide awake but then hear something and-" You make a lazy snoring sound.

Nanami laughs, he thinks it's odd but also endearing! He's watching you as you pull out your phone.

"Haven't you ever heard of asmr? It's super popular now." Your looking up at him as you try to find a video that he might like.

"Hmm? Oh... no? I don't think so..." You raise a brow at him which only brings forth a low chuckle.

"Here, watch." You lift the phone for him to see. He takes your wrist gently in his grasp to bring it farther away, squinting in the process. You hum.

"old man..." is mumbled.

He smirks at your jest, eyeing you for a moment before he tries to experience the video on the screen. His fingers slide up and down over your wrist as he purses his lips.

"I'm sorry, my love, I don't think I understand." He looks away from your phone. Bringing your arm forward to leave a kiss there.

"No, no, I think you're just not used to it." You state.

You'll ask him to lay down, giving him your phone. You'll go through a couple of videos, trying to find something he'll like as you play with his hair.

"Don't you feel anything?" You look down at him.

He sets your phone on his chest as he gazes up at your face, "Only your hands, my dear."

"Hmm... I wish you could... It's like a massage... in your brain." You giggle, sliding back to his side before setting your phone on the bedside desk, bookmarking the discussion as you prepare for bed.

I imagine a few days would pass, likely following your normal routine before you eventually have a rough day at work. Nanami would get a text informing him that once you arrive home you want to lay atop him like a dead fish until the day slides off your shoulders.

He would greet you at the door, helping you slide off your jacket, bag, and shoes. He would kiss your cheeks before pulling you into the shared bedroom, allowing you to lay your weight across his body as he begins to run his hands down your spine.

As he starts to play with your hair, he is reminded of the conversation the two of you shared the week prior. It wouldn't take long before he would start to rub his thumbs along the skin of his other fingers, before starting to gently tap them together. Trying to emulate the sounds you had fervently told him relax you so much.

It probably wouldn't take long for you to recognize what he was doing, as soon as he starts to flutter his fingers by your ears you would rise quickly to a position that allowed you to look at him in the eyes.

"Were you doing asmr just now?" You would smile broadly.

"Oh..." He would drop his hands to your hips, "I was trying to be relaxing." His smile was embarrassed and the cuteness aggression it caused you was instantaneous.

"It was! It so was!" You kiss his cheek, my God this man was adorable, "I'm super relaxed!" You would slip down his form again and grab his hands to bring them to your ears once more, "Go again! I loved it!"

He would bring his hands down in embarrassment, twisting to hold your hands in his. Heat flushing his cheeks, a smiley "hmmm" leaving his chest. It would probably be a few moments before he allowed himself to slide his palms back up and play with your hair once again.

[littleprinces]

Slavecretary

Haewon x M! Reader

"Haewon," I said, my voice low and husky. "Can you come into my office for a moment?"

She looked up at me, her eyes wide and innocent. "Yes, Sir?"

I gestured for her to take a seat. "I wanted to discuss something with you. It's about your performance at work."

She looked at me, a hint of fear in her eyes. "My performance, Sir?"

I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath. "Yes, Haewon. I've been watching you, and I have to say, I'm not impressed. You've been making mistakes, showing up late, and your attitude has been less than stellar."

She looked down at her hands, her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'll try to do better."

I stood up and walked around my desk. I leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I have a better idea. How about you come to my house tonight, and I'll show you exactly what I expect from you?"

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock. "Sir, I don't think that's appropriate."

I chuckled and ran my finger down her cheek. "Oh, Haewon. You know you want to. And I promise, you won't be disappointed."

She hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. "Okay, Sir. I'll come to your house tonight."

I smiled and handed her a small box. "Good girl. And here's a little something to wear for me tonight."

She opened the box and gasped. Inside was a small, black chastity cage. "Sir, I can't wear this!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why not? It's a symbol of my control over you. You'll wear it, or you won't be coming to my house tonight."

She looked up at me, her eyes pleading. "Please, Sir. I can't."

I leaned in closer and whispered, "You can, and you will. Now, go back to work and think about what you're going to do tonight."

She stood up and walked to the door, her legs shaky. "Yes, Sir."

When she arrived at my house that night, she was wearing the chastity cage and a tight black dress. I could see the outline of her nipples through the fabric, and I knew she was ready for me.

I led her to my bedroom and pushed her down on the bed. "You look stunning, Haewon. But I think we need to get you out of this dress."

I slowly unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing a black lace bra and panties, and I could see the wet spot on her panties.

I leaned down and whispered in her ear, "You're already wet for me, aren't you?"

She nodded and bit her lip. "Yes, Sir."

I reached down and ripped her panties off. "Good girl. Now, let's see how you taste."

I spread her legs apart and leaned down. I started licking her pussy, slowly at first, and then faster and harder. She was moaning and writhing beneath me, her hands clutching the sheets.

I looked up at her and said, "You taste so good, Haewon. I could eat you all night."

She looked down at me and said, "Please, Sir. I want you inside me tonight."

I stood up and took off my clothes. I was hard and ready for her. I climbed on top of her and pushed inside her pussy. She was tight and wet, and I groaned with pleasure.

I started fucking her harder and faster, my balls slapping against her ass. "You like that, Haewon?" I said.

She nodded and moaned. "Yes, Sir. Fuck me harder." Her face already show how horny she is. I still fuck her hard.

I grabbed her hips and started pounding her, my cock going deeper and deeper. "You're mine, Haewon. Say it."

She looked up at me, her eyes pleading. "I'm yours, Master."

I leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I'm going to cum inside you, Haewon. I'm going to breed you."

She moaned and nodded. "Yes, master. Cum in me."

I felt my orgasm building, and then I exploded inside her, filling her pussy with my cum. She moaned and clung to me, her body shaking with pleasure.

I pulled out and looked down at her. "Good girl, Haewon. You took every inch of me. You will be my sex slave."

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Master. I will be your slave."

Haewon is my slave now and i decide to keep her in my house and make her as my pet.