#the rest isn't present enough so no tag at all

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Concentrate

summary: You've been engrossed in work lately and Price decides to take it into his own hands to make you relax.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, mention of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, p in v, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, d/s themes, captain!kink, implied age-gap

a/n: god, it's been too long since I've updated this series, but considrings it's summer now, I actually have may aims set on finishing it<3

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Despite the blue-light glasses dimming your already yellowed screen, your laptop's light strains your eyes.

They sting as you blink, tears occasionally wetting your lash line. You don't want to continue working, the whole day has had you glued to the screen. But, you'd signed a contract with a bigger firm, and the first checkpoint in that partnership was scheduled to be presented in two weeks.

Despite so much time left, it felt like you were already behind.

You sighed, your forehead finding solace between your arms as you rested it against the bed. You felt the mattress shift beneath you, not too surprised you caught the attention of the bed's other occupant, who had been engrossed in his book for the better part of an hour.

"Not time to let it rest for tonight?" You sighed again, catching the sound of an open book being placed down.

"I know I should, but there's still so much left undone." You turn to face John, your head finding a temporary respite on your shoulder, relieving some of the tension in your neck. 

Compared to you, he lies on his back, one hand resting along the book's spine, his index and middle finger hooked between the pages. His brows are drawn together, and the creases between them are more visible than otherwise. 

"Mhm, know it is, but you've done quite some work for the last half an hour." Right, this isn't the first time he's asked if it's time to put aside work for tonight. The knowing look John sends you makes you break away from his gaze. 

You know he is right. But, as soon as you stare at the unwelcomingly bright screen again, the unpleasant tingle in your nerves of work left half-done and the heaps of it left to finish forces your fingers to flex before settling on the keyboard again.

"And yet I've come nowhere", you mutter. The clicking of keys ceases when John's hand enters your vision, and a heavy paw is placed upon one of yours to halt your typing. Your eyes flick to him, noticing how he's

discarded the book and rolled onto his side, watching you with raised brows and sincere eyes. 

"Wrap it up, love. You've done enough for tonight." His voice is steady, and his gaze is heavy. 

Letting out a breath of combined compliance and relief, you nod. "Alright, let me just wrap these few sentences up so I'll know where I should pick up tomorrow".

"Good choice." John catches your chuckle with a kiss as he leans close to peck your lips before standing from the bed. "I'll be in the shower when you're done," he says, withdrawing to the en suite.

You follow him as he departs, leaving the invite dangling in the empty space he leaves you alone in. The water from the shower reaches you as a soft pour through the door, making it even harder to turn back to face the screen. It's light stabbing your sore eyes just a bit more viciously.

And you do plan to join him sooner rather than later. Yet the concluding sentence seems impossible to wrap up, going on forever as you attempt to put down all the thoughts on the screen for your well-rested self to probably frown at tomorrow morning.

The sound of the shower fades to a white noise as you simply can't take the step and cut yourself off, close the screen, and join John in a warm shower your sore body and exhausted mind needs.

***

Price waits for you. He didn't anticipate you to come running after him before the door shut, but he did expect you to join him soon after he stepped beneath the shower-head. But he sighs heavily when he's stood beneath the stream of water for long enough that he's finished washing and even stretched the time if you would join him in a minute. 

Turning off the shower, Price steps out to dry off. He'd looked forward to spending some time with you, no less seeing you relax for the first time since after breakfast. That project you're working on has taken much of your time the last few days, rendering you basically motionless in front of your laptop if it wasn't to eat or take a minuscule pause.

Despite knowing it was he who was on med-leave and not you, Price still felt that the days on which he had no paperwork to fill his time while you worked dragged on particularly slowly. And with his shoulder barely impairing him from any movement, sitting about the whole day made his leg bounce from restlessness.

Neither did he want to disturb you too much, noticing how you noted his presence each time he passed within your view with a flick of your eyes before they fell to your laptop again. 

While never saying anything, Price, in return, noticed how you often slowed your pace momentarily after he'd passed you, often with a swift kiss. Likewise, if he stayed in your vicinity, your attention strayed towards him more than once.

He tried to keep clear so as not to impair your workflow. But your workplace is much more fluid than his, and you often placed yourself in areas he passed through when moving through... practically anywhere in the house.

With the tally he kept, you favoured the couch in the living room downstairs and the bed later in the evenings.

Dropping the towel from his head, Price looked at his reflection before it fell to the side. Some little part in his chest hoped to see you suddenly appear behind him, but the door remained as shut as a few minutes prior. 

Price wasn't surprised to find you right where he left you once he exited the bathroom with the towel tied around his hips.

He called your name, but you barely moved. You remained on your stomach, propped on your elbows, occasionally scrolling on the computer before you. He catches you mumbling a 'mhm, soon done' much later than his call for you and only shakes his head, the response more autogenerated than anything else.

Even from this angle, Price notices how the light from the screen illuminates your tired features. When he moves around the bed and towards your side, he catches your furrowed brows.

You're so engrossed in your work and whatever is going on inside that head of yours you don't notice when he steps up beside you. Instead, your head falls to your hands, your thumbs pressing into the roots of your eyebrows.

A low groan escapes you, stirring something in the pit of his stomach. 

You'd been out like a light the last two nights, barely able to put away your computer and mosey your way for your skin-care routine before falling asleep. He'd caught you standing with your eyes closed as you massaged your products into your skin, only to offer him that sweet, tired smile once they fluttered open.

To say he hadn't been aching to touch you more than fleetingly the past three days was an understatement. But the day you announced you'd gotten the deal for this collaboration, you also said in your ecstatic state how you needed to work. So he'd let you, settling for the warmth of your body against his right before sleep took you both, and the day started in the mornings.

Price knew your jobs were different, awfully so. However, he recognised you were in that initial bubble of concentration that was hard to break out of, and you could bring in the rest of the world again.

While Price didn't blame you for working while you stayed here. After all, he'd thumbed on his non-working practice while on medical leave. He found that you had difficulty relaxing; your shoulders pulled tighter each day, your remote work smudging the line between work and home. Even now, you hadn't stopped massaging the pressure points in your face, the blue-light glasses discarded to make it easier.

He wanted to see you wind down, not only for tonight but also to allow yourself to not overwork so early on in this project. Take it from him about knowing that planning and prepping could only take you so far. Yet Price knew you wouldn't take that step yourself. He'd waited to see if you would since yesterday when the exhaustion of your mental workload slowly started to make itself noticeable.

Maybe that's why he found himself suddenly resting a knee on the bed beside your hip, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he pushed himself over your laying form until he kneeled on either side of you. Or so he told himself, dismissing how he slowly felt himself grow hard standing there, watching your form resting prone on the bed, craving to hold your body.

***

The mattress shifts and a sudden weight settles atop your thighs. You start from whatever brain fog has momentarily overtaken you. 

You smell John's shower gel, the slight dampness of what must be a towel separating your naked legs from his as he sits behind you.

Fuck, right, you were supposed to join him.

You attempt to glance over your shoulder to apologise but only catch a glimpse of John, towel around his waist and hair still wet from his shower, before a hand lands on your neck and directs your face forward. The firm grip makes you feel a bit like a kitten being grabbed by the scruff, yet John's voice makes another feeling come to life.

"Just concentrate on your work, love." His voice is smooth and gravelly deep, but he doesn't let up on your neck, forcing you to continue facing your screen with the blinking marker not far from your face. 

"What-"

"And let me take care of you", he continues, disregarding you completely. 

You're about to ask him again what he's doing, but upon the fingers resting on either side of your neck pressing, your words escape as a rushed exhale. His thumb and index finger repeatedly knead the base of your skull, making your eyes fall shut. 

Yeah, you could need a massage. That's also how you interpret John's action, as his hand slides with equal pressure further along your spine. The pressure is firm, but oh, it is needed on the sore muscles along your back that you let out a shaky breath when some of the tension is relieved. 

However, your shaky breaths turn into a sharp inhale once one of his hands that has been kneading the worst of the tension points in your back slips down your spine, not stopping at your last vertebrate but continuing over the globe of your ass.

One calloused hand turns to two, both grabbing at you from behind, groping your cheeks in each palm, squeezing until flesh spills between fingers and an appreciative noise sounds from the man doing so. And then, he pulls you apart just a little, the oversized shirt of his that you're wearing riding up until you practically can feel his eyes on your scantily covered core.

"John-" His name is cut off by a sharp inhale as one of his hands slides between your legs, and he runs his thumb the length of your thong-covered pussy from behind. In the aftermath of your involuntary jerk, his other hand settles heavily on your hip, pressing you down into the bed with the help of his weight pinning you.

"Hush, don't mind me." His voice is remarkably even despite gently rubbing up and down your cunt like he is currently doing.

"Hard not to mind you." You let out a soft moan, clenching around nothing but the phantom feel of his thumb against your entrance as he presses just a tad bit more.

"You wanted to work, love, don't let me stop you". It's sweet, even considerate, the way he says it. Contrasting so deviously the way he's petting you with repeated motions of his thumb.

Your mouth opens and closes, your eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay open and watch the keyboard and screen you're meant to type on. However, the computer you only minutes before couldn't tear your attention from remains untouched. 

Your fingers hover, and your chest heaves as your total concentration falls on John. 

Hyper-vigilance overtakes your body as you follow every tiny thing the man pinning you against the bed does. John keeps the pace of his fingers the same, the prodding remaining frustratingly consistent. You try to wriggle your hips, but the hand on your waist only tightens its hold as he clicks his tongue. A simple but effective warning.

You fall still, letting him touch you at the pace he wants despite your breaths now turning to soft whimpers. 

A flush rushes through your body when John shuffles. You feel him rise onto his knees for a second, and then the fingers playing with your pussy leave your body, only for the sensation of fabric to sweep over your legs and be thrown to the side.

Once he retakes his position, it's his naked thighs that connect with yours. But the stuttering breath escapes when you catch a low groan spilling into the air.

Your head whips around, catching John admiring you with lidded eyes, hand fisted and stroking his rapidly swelling cock to full hardness.

Mouth salivating, your lip catches between your teeth upon the scene. You can't help the way your thighs clench together when your pussy flutters. John notices, eyes trailing upwards until his gaze locks with yours. He tsks the moment they do, stopping his fisting of himself as if to depreve you of the hot scene.

"Thought you wanted to work, eh?" He leans forward, shifting his hand to rest by your shoulder instead of your hip. It lets you arch against his hardened cock when it falls against your backside. John grunts, jaws tightening as his free hand curls around your head, gripping your jaw to force you to look at him by craning your head backwards. "Now, don't let me fuckin' this pretty pussy of yours distract you." He directs your head forward slowly as the words drip from his tongue. 

But, rather than your hands resuming the typing you'd given up on since he started touching you, they fall to the sides of your godforsaken computer, fisting the covers. "I-I won't be able-"

"M'no, no backtalk, or else I'll go an wank off rather than help you relax, love." Your mouth snaps shut, breathing turning shallow as your heart thrums in the hollow of your throat. "Understood?"

"Yes". There are a few beats of silence as John lets go of your jaw. You wait for his next move, but so does he, apparently, as suddenly his palm connects with your ass, the spank reverberating in the air together with your gasp.

You know what he wants, then. "Yes, Captain." His title sends a shudder down your spine, the implications of its use telling what's to come.

"Good girl", is the low-muttered response you get against the shell of your ear as John settles into his previous position again.

His hand glide over the globe of your ass, soon joined by his other one. You can only imagine the sight he's greeted with when he rucks down your panties and spreads your cheeks enough to bare you for him.

You feel how wet you are. The crotch of your panties tying your legs together is damp against your inner thighs. The uncomfortable feeling of being soaked between your legs makes you squirm beneath John's gaze.

"Squirmin' already, and I've barely touched you", he hums, letting his thumb fall to your entrance again. When he curls the digit, it disappears inside you, forcing a stutter moan out of you.

He toyed with you, teasingly stretching you over his thumb as he wiggled it at the entrance. Sometimes, John let it slide deeper, which had your thighs clenching beneath his thicker ones straddled over you. 

You whimpered, head falling to the bed when he used the slick you'd coated him in to rub your clit. The stutter of your hips was impossible to stop, but rather than a swat to your ass and a disappointed sound, the one you could've presumed would leave John. His tut was filled with remorse, the way he kneaded your ass almost caringly.

"So strung tight, ain't you, love?" You whined in response when his thumb left your clit, sliding up and down the seam of your pussy. "Poor thing", he hummed, low and gravelly in his chest. If not for your body already vibrating, you bet you could've felt the same bone-deep rumble of his voice through your back.

"Yeah-oh!" A moan cut off your sentence, John's thumb swapped to the head of his cock in the middle of it. It was a slow push inside, having your mouth falling open, another moan forced into the bed.

The familiar burn of his thick cock stretching you wider made your eyes screw shut and your breathing heavy. With little to no prep, apart from your slick and John's teasing, the delicious stretch around him was slower than usual.

"Oh my-", you whimpered, feeling John move and his weight settles against your back.

A hand beneath your throat is what forces your head up. With a slight bend backwards, you met with blue eyes gazing down at you. The picture of John was upside down, but the evident lust in his features as his hips met your ass shone no less clearly.

"How's that work goin' for you?" His voice was thick, dripping from his mouth into yours from how your lips brushed.

You opened your mouth, intent on replying. Though, John had another idea. Before your words could more than begin as a deep inhale, he started to fuck into you, torturously slow but deep, rocking your body from how tightly he pressed himself against your rear.

Intended words escaped as nothing more than a moan he swallowed with a messy kiss, your sound of pleasure urging a deep groan from John in response.

Your eyes fluttered when John shifted just right and hit that bundle of nerves inside you that made silvery stars dance across your vision. He must have felt your walls contract as he picked up his pace. And basically rutted into the bed, your eyes fluttered and your neck going loose, forcing John to let you down so you would not bend it at an awkward angle. 

With your cheek pressed against the bed, you followed the large man sitting straight again through your peripheral. He appeared larger when he grabbed your hips, pushing those big pecs of his together, puffing his chest up. 

His bicep flexed, and his head tipped back a notch when he pushed your legs together more firmly with his thighs, feeling you tighten around him. The fit was snug, urging him to push firmer into you, lifting your hips the slightest bit to meet each thrust. 

You could drool at the sight of him huffing and groaning as the muscles in his stomach and arms flexed. Some wetness probably escaping along the constant strings of moans and whimpers flooding your mouth. The burly bulk of him working you closer to orgasm with each tug of your body and snap of his hips. Fuck did he look good.

"C-captain", you moaned wantonly, earning his attention as he haunched forward, sneaking a hand beneath your front to strum at your clit.

"Fuck me, love." John couldn't help but stutter through his words when your goaded groan stoked his primal pride at having you look so utterly dishevelled. "Lookin' so fuckin' cockdrunk."

You nodded absentmindedly, earning another grunt from the man shoving his cock possibly deeper as his finger toyed quicker over your sensitive bud. It was impossible to keep your eyes open, your mouth hanging open without a sound but heady exhales escaping. Your fingers were cramping, clutching and unclutching the rucked-up duvet around your face.

"Can feel you flutterin' around me. You needed this, didn't you? Already close." Fingers dug into your hipbones, and your body jolted when John switched the pace to agonisingly drag his cock out before slamming home. "Yeah, yeah? Are you goin' to cum for your Captain? Cream my cock while you work?"

Work was nothing but a memory now as you could only muster a moan in response.

You twitched beneath him, coming nowhere despite arching your back as you came, and John continued sliding over your clit with his finger. It was violent, ripping through all those frayed and tense nerves that had pulled tight through over the last few days.

You cried into the bed, shuddering when John kept pumping into you, prolonging the blessedly painful high he forced you into by the end. His rumbling grunts and mumbled praise spread goosebumps over your skin as you lay there, taking whatever he needed to spill inside you through the overstimulation.

Then John stilled, shoving himself deep as his thighs quivered and he pulsed inside you, the warmth and stickiness spilt inside you, making you weakly moan in satisfaction.

It was blessedly silent as you felt him push incredibly lazy into you once, twice, before he pulled out and settled on his haunches, pulling your cheeks apart to probably look at the white dribble of cum that oozed out of you. He hummed contentedly, smoothing his palm over your bottom before he wedged a hand beneath your hips, helping you lift them as he pulled your panties up your legs again.

You whined at the uncomfortable coldness but stopped once John's thumb ran soothing circles into your spine.

Your eyes had fallen shut, the fatigue from earlier creeping violently close. The only thing making your lashes flutter was once John leans over your body, closing the laptop that switched to standby long ago. 

His hand is kept on the device as he leans down, his head notching on your shoulder and his lips resting against the shell of your ear as he falls to his elbow.

"You're done". This time around, it wasn't a suggestion. 

You can't argue this time, only hum and tip your head in an attempted nod. Your head is silent for the first time in three days, and the pleasant buzz makes your body completely lax. John takes it as an agreement as he leans down and kisses your shoulder blade. 

One press off his lips turns into two, and then a question breaks the pattern, "You feelin' alright?"

"Mhm" is all you can muster in return. You receive a last kiss against your clothes-covered skin before John stands from the bed while you remain put. 

You feel the laptop disappear, presuming John puts it away to charge for the night.

"Come on now, love, up you get". Your head twists to watch John as he stands beside the bed in his naked glory. A tension was lost in his shoulders now.

"M'too tired", you mumble.

"Now it suits you", he laughs softly, a quirk tugging in the corner of his lip as he bends down. 

You move easily when he pushes you over to your back, enjoying the view John offers above you. When he inserts his hand behind your knees and your back to scoop you into his arms, you sober up quickly as you release a squeal, eyes widening as your arms shoot to wrap around his neck. 

His chuckle vibrates against your ribcage as he readjusts his grip on you before he sets off to the en suite. 

"Waited for you to take that shower with me, but looks like I had to take it into my own hands".

"So you're kidnapping me to take another?"

"Yes", he says, shifting his eyes to yours before stopping to push the door open with his foot.

"What a gentleman", you giggle, craning your neck to kiss his beard-covered jaw quickly.

"Didn't leave me with any gentlemanly options", John fixes you with a look as he lets you down.

"Guess the both of us can get stuck in work sometimes," you shrug, blinking up at him with innocent eyes and giving him an apologetic smile.

His arms circle your waist, accepting your regretful gesture by pulling you close to him. All the while, John huffs to playfully deflect your accusation towards him. 

"Don't know what you're talkin' about".

"Don't know what I'm talking about, huh?" You question with a cocked brow, a smile pulling at the edge of your mouth. "Says the man who would rate his study a close second behind being in bed with me".

"Surfaces to fuck you in both places." He shrugs. Your mouth drops open, your spluttering making him let out a short laugh, a boyish smile now tugging at his lips. "And... it's not my fault you consider one of your offices the most fuckable surfaces in the house, nor your work attire this", he defends himself half-heartedly while slipping a hand beneath his oversized tee covering your body.

You lightheartedly swat his chest, chuckling as you detangle yourself from his arms. 

You feel John's eyes rove over your body while you pull the shirt over your head, catching his gaze once you drop it to the floor. You lift a brow once his eyes rise to yours, only briefly, however, as they soon drop again when you step out of your sticky panties.

You feel the wetness left behind between your legs; no doubt that John also sees it from how his chest expands when you step backwards through the open shower doors and onto the still, slightly wet ground from his previous shower.

When he follows you, he instantly pulls your naked body against his as if he hadn't just held you.

Just before the water hits your front, John huddles close, bending slightly forward so the water cascades over the back of his head instead. 

He runs a hand through his hair to push his drenched locks backwards. Droplets fly and hit you in the face, and you raise a hand to swipe most of them from your lashes.

You stand in comfortable silence as you stare at each other. John's hands wander up and down your sides, your hands no better as they slide over his wet torso. He can't take his eyes off of you, gaze slowly dipping, mapping your body as if he hasn't seen it naked countless times.

"You're touchy tonight", you hum, following his gaze as it settles on your breasts, hands soon moving to the same place.

"Have barely felt you for days." He fondles you in his hands, much gentler in all his touches now compared to earlier, simply feeling you up. 

"Could've just asked if you wanted to have some time for us without my laptop present", you jokingly offer.

John only raises a brow as his eyes lock with yours, his hands stilling and ultimately sliding down your ribs to rest on your hips.

"With how you've buried that nose in the screen, I didn't know if you fancied if I would come and cop a feel". You tip your head side to side. "You're probably right." John only cocks his brows, a silent dig at the probably you threw in there. "But I didn't mind it now".

He shakes his head, reaching down to plan a swift kiss on your lips. "'Course you didn't when bein' so wound up. Know a good fuck makes you relax".

"Oh, shut up," you say, pushing his face away with your hand and bashfully dipping your head. He laughs lowly through the shower stream you'd moved him into. 

He shook his head as he exited the water, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

[c4qwp]

felix catton x fem!reader

| you understand.

📎 tags : angst, female reader, felix being older than you by a year, fanon of felix be i'm such a bad writer guys, bad orthography, felix being a bit annoying but also a cutie patootie, (y/n) not mentioned, angst asfff

📎 author's note : don't hesitate to comment to help me to progress! english isn't my first language, idk if felix is fanon but i tried my best to write him like i how i see him

you would have seen it coming.

"i think we should break up."

so faint and uncertain, barely more than a whisper.

he looked uncomfortably hunched over, his forearms resting on the table, his breakfast untouched, like he was trying to make himself smaller than you, which was ironic considering you envied his nerves of steel, and of course he was smaller than you shorter It was a very embarrassing moment for a handsome man, but not this kind of moment. Never this weakness.

although the winter sun shines through the windows, the kitchen is still dark and the unpleasant feeling of unusual transparency is almost suffocating. felix isn't the type to get flustered in public, which makes you even more nervous, just when you think you've had all the training you need to imagine scenarios and possible breakup possibilities in every direction.

he didn't dare look at you, shaking his head nervously, choking silently. "say something."

howfunny that he's the best thing you know and can lift you up with one arm effortlessly — his biceps are literally the size of your head, but he says if anyone touches him, he'll cry right now.

It's also a hard pill to swallow, and it's not true that you did this to him, weakening him. you didn't know you had that much power over him yet; and he said he wanted to break, but if he actually said he did, he'd throw up. you shifted in your seat, the wood of the chair suddenly digging into your skin as your body became hyperaware of everything around you, turning your attention away from felix and crossing your hands in your lap.

the answer is on the tip of your tongue, where it has been hidden for months. of course you let him go, and what makes it easier is accepting his warning that half the things about him will be absent and secret, or knowing from the start that your time with him will be limited.

you just don't hesitate; completely overcome the first four stages of grief and begin to accept with ease.

felix catton was essentially ephemeral, either a dreamer or a visible absentee in the present moment of your life. you think of him as an outside cat who was never yours to begin with, appearing randomly and unwittingly when he wanted, a flighty, mysterious companion who was happy and eager to be around.

you don't know if he loves you so much. everyone loved felix. everyone wanted to be around him. the love was there, enough to last a long time, but you thought it was because you were secure and stable.

you were glad you gave him that, if only because you honestly weren't sure what he saw in you.

what was going on was easy enough to experience and because of that you didn't allow yourself to get too attached to him because you knew he didn't love you as much as you loved him. maybe you're kidding yourself, maybe you're sleepy and not as cool as you thought, but you're convinced that's the way it should be, the way it should be.

what's the point of realizing your name isn't at the top of his list?

are you even were you good enough for him? a feeling of insecurity has been itching you for a long time. you may have been beautiful and intelligent, but were you the first in his eyes?

you can't ever be mad at him. you wanted to be with him knowing the way he is, after all. felix is a mess despite trying not to show it, his messy straw-brown hair doesnt shine like it usually does. he hasn't gotten enough sleep in more than a couple days because of his family's issues. time whenever he has to be away for an unprecedented amount of time, or gets buried too long in his pub. wearing a white shirt, he looked very casual and didn't seem to beg to be singled out. feel sorry for him.

"alright."

he snapped his head up, his eyes immediately meeting yours, and they were no longer blank. he looked unsure if he had heard correctly and had a look of disbelief on his face. "wait what?"

your fingers traced the rim of your teacup, mimicking felix's eager movements. "you can start packing today, but if you want to stop today, i don't mind..."

"no, wait-"

"i said yes, felix."

he frowned at the name, his eyes looking away from you for a moment, and he had to blink, and you thought that not having your usual nickname had hurt him. He had to swallow before he could speak.

"and that's it?"

you don't know if this is an attempt to end your relationship or if you want to let him go easily. you do not get it. what can you say.

"what do you want me to say?"

he sighed, looked away, wiped his forehead with his hand and covered his eyes. yes, not that your hopes are in vain. you have to say no.

he's as handsome as ever, but of course he'll want to know how comfortable you are, and he won't appreciate it when he changes his design. "i heard and will agree so we co—"

"aren't you mad at me?"

this is really what he thought first?

"i don't want to get upset."

"why...?"

"well, ..." because you love him, but talking about him will make it harder.

"i'm not sure. but we are both adult and need to talk like one. i think you and i have been very good together all along. I'm not mad at you for anything. understand."

he had such a subtle, sarcastic look on his face that if you were a complete stranger you would have thought it was sarcasm, but you knew better. He insulted himself. you can read it. but you should think about it. you should be mad at him. why the fuck is he upset. things about felix seem too good to be true, his only flaw is that he is a literal playboy. but of course stopped all his relationships with other girls, right?

"don't you want to know the reason? i mean, my god, why are you taking it so passively?"

"what do you mean?"

it's hard for you too.

"how can you not be so affected?"

"It's not like that. If you want to break up, i can't make you stay, or do anything you don't want to do. that's not fair to any of us. you will be with someone you don't want, and i would know im with someone who doesn't want me."

he shook his head, brown hair framing his face, which floated gently in the air. when he strongly disagrees

with something you say, but decides to say no at the last minute, he'll furrow his brows in anger and you'll feel a little disappointed because he's not denying that he doesn't want you. "you're always doing that, you're always doing that..getting mad. you must be mad at me."

"felix. I'm just tired of all this. you want to beak up and i said yes."

he just said, "I'm sorry,"

he hated it, that was all he had to offer you, and it showed on his face. sit in the chair next to him, you both need some good communication privacy right now. "but i have plenty of time to cry, okay?

"it's not like i'm accepting it or being negative or anything... and"

"grieving?"

his eyes search yours for a moment, the realization making him gasp and his eyebrows raise, making him look younger and more innocent.

looking forward to it.

"yeah, i mean.." pressing your lips together.

"look at us. in the long run, this doesn't work. It's not real. i don't know how we got here."

his pupils swallowed all the blue in his eyes, and he had never looked at you with such hostility until the hair on your arms stood up. "did you just think about breaking up?"

"why are you mad at me now? what have I done? you're the one who broke up with me."

"you weren't happy at all. haven't you always been sure?"

"i was and i still am. it's just...you've changed, felix. you're not looking at me like before. i don't know if it's because of me that you've changed but i was here for you every single time. but no mister doesn't want to talk so go to the pub and come back all drunk and doesn't give a shit about me. so yeah i was confused about a time and wasn't sure."

his eyes were finally on you. he called your name, repeated it. "i'm so sorry, love. i'm so-"

"no felix. i'm tired. so please leave me alone for a time and let's talk an other time."

there was a blank of 2 minutes. as you wanted to say another word,

"i understand."

[realcube]

YAKU MORISUKE THIRST

a/n → inspo x y @4unnyr0se. ik his bday isn't until august but really everyday is his bday!!

tws/tags → age gap (yaku is 30, reader is ~20), vaginal, breeding, foodplay (kinda not really) & impactplay

hearing his footsteps hobble down the stairs, in a typical lazy morning fashion, you hide behind the table, peering over the top of it so that when he turns the corner to enter the kitchen, you can jump out and yell,

"surprise!" while blowing into your party horn.

yaku appears to be mid stretch, but falters when he hears your cheer, a small smile creeping onto his tired features. "what's this?" he rasps.

you motion proudly to the cake you had made that sat in the centre of the kitchen table, adorned with a single flickering candle. "birthday stuff! come, make a wish."

he sheepishly hides behind his palms as he makes his way over to the cake, "honestly, i forgot about my birthday."

"that's alright. memory loss is normal part of aging." you blow into the horn again as encouragement for yaku to proceed, but the sudden loud noise only causes him to wince, along with your cheeky comment.

"i'm not that old!" he argues, and you simply nod.

"you're right. you don't look a day over forty." you pinch his cheek and he rolls his eyes, glancing between you and the cake, subcontiously trying to decide which looks more delicious.

you hadn't changed out of your pyjamas because you wanted to be quick in preparing his surprise, and of course he wasn't expecting this at all which is why he was also still wearing his night shirt and shorts.

your hair was a mess too, you hardly had time to do it so it was currently thrown into a loose updo, with strands hanging down in front of your face. it was so sweet, and you were so cute even when dimly illuminated by the weak light of the candle; it was like you were glowing.

yaku was lost in his thoughts, staring at you, until you pulled him back to reality by asking, "make your wish. you're not getting any younger." you giggle, and he exhales sharply in huff.

"you're not getting any younger either, y'know."

"but i'm already young so that doesn't really matter."

"are you saying i'm old?" yaku tried his best to seem offended, but he struggled to suppress the wide grin that gave him away.

you shrug, averting your gaze, also doing your best not to burst out into laughter. "if the shoe fits."

"well let's see if the shoe fits up your ass!" he roars, stepping around the table to swing his leg up in your direction, to which you promptly jump away from, defensively swatting your arms at him.

"yaku!" you yelp, stumbling back against the kitchen counter.

he chuckles and you wear an expression that is a mix of irritated and amused. "make your damn wish!"

in between wheezy cackles, yaku hunches over a chair and blows out his candle, an steamy darkness engulfing the room as he does so. it's 5AM, so it's not especially bright outside, but the moon shines just enough that you can make out his toned silhouette in it's light.

he saunters towards you and captures your lips in his for a kiss charged with passion and love, he pulls you in close by your waist, and lets his hands wander downwards to grip your thighs. his soft lips work against yours in a rhythmic yet desirious manner, only parting for a gasp of air.

you meet each other's heavy gaze for a moment, until you lean forward and rest your head against his strong chest. he whispers into your hair, "thank you, baby."

you smile, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his hands trail over your supple skin, "don't thank me yet. i haven't even gave you your present."

"oh, sweet girl." he momentarily tightens his holds on you and presses an open-mouthed kiss against your neck, "i don't need a present. you're all i want and more."

you can't help but blush a little at his kind words. your hand finds his and you interlock fingers, as you slowly guide him under and up your shirt, so he gets a feel for your lacey undergarments. "i think you need this present."

he perks up at the realisation, a sly smirk tugging at lips as he feels you up, "you're right."

upon hearing his agreement, you keep a hold of his hand but pull away from the embrace, in order to guide him to the bedroom. however, he jerks you back towards him, his firm hold your lower back keeping you in place.

"no, baby. here." he commands, lifting your top up, and you instinctually raise your arms. once it's off, he tosses it onto the floor and bites his lips at the sight of your new lingerie. how it holds your tits so nicely, and covers just enough to make him want to rip it off.

naturally, he squeezes your waist as he pounces at your tits, indulging in the soft sensation against his cheeks and getting high off your intoxicating scent. he kisses up from your tits to your neck, occassionally stopping to leave love bites. one his hands eagerly slides down your shorts, and you kick it away, leaving you in the skimpy lingerie panties.

he takes a greedy handful of your ass, kneeding the flesh while his mouth keenly works at leaving a deep hickey on your neck. you moan, arching your back against the table and pressing your tits against his chest. "yaku.."

once he's satisfied with the mark he's left, he stops, only to grip your chin and force you to meet his gaze. "(y/n)?"

you're barely able to stay off of each other for a second, as you insantly slam your lips against one anothers again. he leans into your with such vigour and utilises his grip on your thighs to spin your around and push you down against the kitchen table, right beside the cake.

you moan into the heated kiss as your back makes contact with its cool wooden surface. he pries away, so he can stand at the edge, with your legs situated on his shoulders. two of his fingers delve between your folds, rubbing widely through your labia to soak up your juices and hooking around the fabric of your panties to move it aside.

"s' wet.." he muses, admiring your exposed figure beneath him, "such a good girl. dressed up all sexy for me." he prods at your enterance, pressing down to tease you without slipping in yet.

"got me so hard." he says while pulling down his shorts to free his length, aligning it with your pussy. "you gonna help me, (y/n)?"

you nod silently in response, but then shut your eyes tight and whine as yaku squeezes his tip inside your aching hole. a low grunt is brought out of him in response to your tight walls enveloping him, so snugly. it's like he couldn't breathe, you've truly knocked the wind out of him. he's inclined to force himself all the way in, he wants every inch of you, but he likes seeing you squirm when your desperate for more.

"since it's my birthday," he pants, watching heave of your chest and twitch of your neck. "can i cum inside?"

you nod again, and this time a shriek is prised from your throat as he pushes himself in all the way, his thick cock piercing into you. "perfect." he groans, establishing a steady yet zealous pace, "so good t' me."

even with each forceful buck of his hips, his weary smile doesn't waver, as he's entirely enamoured by the way your tits bounce with each thrust, how your nipples threaten to escape the confines of your black lace bra.

that's the least of your concerns though, as your focussed on coping with the sheer amount of pleasure yaku sends surging through you. his cock drills relentlessly into your pussy and you find yourself out of breathe at how your walls have to contort to fit him all inside you. you can feel every movement; each drag of his dick and jab of his tip.

it's so addicting, your eyes flutter shut and you throw your head back, starting to lose yourself in the fog of lust and bliss. though you're hastily snapped back by a harsh sting of pain against your thigh, brought on by the swift slap of yaku's palm.

"fuck." he groans, biting his lip to prevent the further stream of profanities and mindless comments about your gorgeous body or the obscene things he wants to do to you.

he continues to pound into you, observing your lewd facial expressions with a smile, "feels good, baby?"

the only intelligble reason you're able to give is a brief nod of your head, and a meek, "yes.." which is likely drowned out by your moans. yaku gets the message, though, there's not a sign on you that he'll ever miss.

something heavy grows in the pit of your stomach, until you felt like you were on the verge of exploding. "yaku, 'm close." you mewl, to which he rapidly nods in agreement. "me too."

his pace becomes wild and feverish as he nears an orgasm, the way his dick hungrily slams into you draws you closer to your own climax. his thick tip, leaking with precum, scratches an itch inside your tender walls that you didn't know you had.

soon enough, the heavy pool inside you begins to overflow; it's euphoric, your eyes roll back into your head and your entire body tenses to cope with your sweet release, accompanied by an elongated moan.

and of course, watching you come undone around his firm cock resulted in yaku spilling his seed into you shortly after, grinding his teeth togther as it happens. the sensation of your homey walls encasing him and his own fluids was like nothing he's ever experienced before, and his breath hitched as he was forced out.

being the first time he's ever left his load in your pussy, he wants to make sure he does it right. thus, he reaches down between your legs and pushes his cum deep into you, not risking any of it leaking out. once he's done, and notices his fingers are coated, he hovers them in front of your lips and watches as you lick them clean. observant as ever, he notes the slightly grimace that crosses your features at the taste.

he chuckles and digs his finger into the cake that's right beside your head so it is covered with frosting, which he then shoves into your mouth. he slowly drags it back out, amused by how thorough you are. "that taste better?" he inquires.

"mm." you furrow your brows in thought, "no. too much sugar."

[onismdaydream]

short drabble that has been rotting my brain for months...

tags: 18+/mdni. gender neutral reader. dildos. dirty talk. calling gojo a narcissist. not proofread.

: ̗̀— ➛

“wow,” satoru breathes out, a faint smirk appearing on his mouth as his long finger traces one of the veins. “this is pretty damn accurate."

it's blue. a beautiful and bright shade of cerulean that doesn't quite catch the light the same way his eyes do. you can see the sparkle in his gaze now, like a kid in a candy store, so excited and amazed.

"i should hope so, they claim to be the best." you find yourself echoing his excitement, a dull thrum rushing through your body. you had been waiting for this, waiting so patiently for it to arrive in the mail, and now it's finally here. it's within your grasp. biting your bottom lip to suppress your growing smile, you take the few remaining steps between you and satoru.

"satoruuu," you coo, rising to your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. you can feel the small shudder that runs through him. "do you wanna play with your new toy?"

"now?" he asks as if he doesn't believe you, doesn't believe that you'd let him use it. maybe it was just some cruel joke of yours, to place it directly in his hands but never give him the permission he so desperately needed from you. despite how stubborn and cocky he can be, satoru listens.

"mhm," a hand moves down to rest on his pec, feeling the firm muscle underneath the fabric of his shirt. "put on a good show for me, yeah?"

and he does.

god, he looks so beautiful and perfect like this. that pretty pink flush is painted across his cheeks and his eyes are droopy with pleasure, mouth slightly open as he moans. satoru, you think, was sculpted by aphrodite herself. there was no other explanation for how attractive he is. each curve and dip of his body is so alluring, the way his muscles ripple with each movement, even the sounds he makes leaves you hot and needy.

another cry from his lips and you can't stop yourself from touching. you were planning on watching, but with the sight in front of you? there was no way you could resist.

"feel good, baby?" and your palm is massaging his ass, pulling slightly to see him clench around it. satoru moans in response and pushes back into your hand, eyes glossy with tears of ecstasy.

"yeah? you like being fucked by your own dick?"

drool is starting to drip out of the corner of his mouth, soaking into the sheet beneath him. you don't think you've seen satoru lose himself that quickly in quite some time, his brain too foggy to do anything than move the dildo in and out, in and out.

"such a narcissist, 'toru." you tease, knowing exactly what it's like to be on the receiving end — to be dicked down so good until you can't form a word other than his name, repeating it like a prayer. "you gonna leave me for yourself?"

a pinch of his eyebrows tells you that he is still listening, still present enough to try to protest.

"so in love with your cock that you don't need me, is that right?" and there's a whimper, a tremble to his bottom lip, a plead that it isn't true. that he would never leave you, he loves you, adores you.

but it doesn't mean that he stops fucking himself.

no, it feels too good to stop. the replica of his own cock is bullying against his prostate and his actual cock is practically crying with precum, the constant stimulation pushing him closer and closer to the edge. all he needs is a little push to send him toppling.

your hand wraps around his own and you guide the toy to just the right spot.

"c'mon baby, wanna see you cum."

half a dozen more thrusts of his replica and that cord snaps inside him, his orgasm racking through his body and leaving a mess on the bedding. you manage to catch him before he can fall forward, gently rolling him to the side so he doesn't get covered in his own release. you've made that mistake before.

you carefully clean his body, wiping the lube and sweat and cum and leaving sweet kisses along his skin. satoru's breathing eventually evens out, his heart rate returning back to normal.

"you know i love you, right?" his voice cracks a bit, his throat and mouth dry from panting, but you don't comment on it.

"i know, baby." and your lips against his own is a sacred promise.

[basicinstnct]

if ur taking requests, can we see what happened the time reader denied miguel and he begged? if ur not taking req you can just ignore this <3

word count: 1143

a/n: this got much longer than intended, i don’t think it necessitates explicit tags, but there is dubious consent. I suppose there are slight hints to events in the film as well, but honestly blink and you’ll miss it stuff. referenced fic here.

The date goes alright. The man in general is alright. Reasonably you know you should be satisfied with alright. It's not like you have much going on elsewhere. Except for the fact that you're fucking Spider-Man. One of them, at least.

You don't know much about Miguel other than that, and a couple of other things you've pieced together. Most things you didn't even learn from him. Corporate gossip is the source material for half of his portfolio. It's taken you months to get just those pieces, and you know you're not a girlfriend, but can you be blamed for wanting more?

He certainly expects more from you, you realize, when he shows up at your place an hour after you get home from being out.

“What a coincidence," you laugh. “I had a feeling you might show up, and here you are."

"You look nice," he sidesteps aggressively. It's unlike him to ignore anything resembling an attitude, but he does now. For what reason doesn't even seem important. All you can think is that you want this man out of your apartment, and maybe even your life.

“That's what he said." you reply, wincing at the brightness when you move to hang up your coat. The lights are set to activate when there's a human presence, but he must have hacked the system to turn them off, so he could sit in the dark like a lunatic. “He said, 'you look very nice,’ too. Except he had a lot more enthusiasm."

"So what? You pick him. That's it?"

"I'm not picking you. You aren't even an option.” The rage quietly taking over his features isn't like anything else when it's directed towards you. His brows begin to pinch, and when he opens his mouth you see hints of his fangs.

"Why not?" He starts to step into your bubble. You have less space to retreat before your back is against the way. You can’t see the rest of the room past his broad shoulders, and he’s got his neck craned down so he can see every cute expression you make.

"I know nothing about your past, or even much of your present, to be frank." You say the words monotone secretary style, still trying to have control. "I assume you're busy with things I can't even dream of, and I don't think you want me near any of that either. You have issues, and I don't need you to spill your guts, and we could go on about this forever. It won't be worth it, it's not even interesting.”

“I can make it more interesting." You can see that he intends to fuck you. To use sex to make the problem disappear.

"One for the road," you smile, because at this point why not. He's never been bad at this part, but you have leverage, and if it’s the last time you’ll see Miguel, you might as well blow it. “Sure,” you say, “if you beg me.”

You clench your things when you see him even consider it, and it gets worse when you hear him.

“Please,” he starts, teeth gritted, and you start to think about them in your flesh. “Please, let me fuck you. That’s what you wanna hear? I wanna fuck you. I wanna feel you come on my dick. That good enough for you, baby?”

“Sure, good enough,” you try to downplay, but you think you might want it more than he does.

He's faster to take you than a human man ever could be. You’re pinned to the floor, his fingers in your hair, one hand at your hip and the other at your neck. He just holds his hand there, flexes his fingers, so you can feel the threat of a squeeze. He stares you down. “Nothing like that,” when you cock your head, he doesn’t elaborate.

“Give me a kiss,” Miguel demands. He’s so shy about it that you fall for the bait. He doesn’t waste a minute before trying to shove his tongue in your mouth, like there’s no point in kissing you if he can’t, but the problem is he also drools, because he’s keeping his mouth just a little too wide so he doesn’t cut you with those teeth.

“Just fuck me,” you hiss between kisses, feeling like you’re drowning in him.

“Gonna be nice after being so mean, huh?”

“Maybe,” you groan, “if you stop talking.”

“You sure, baby,” he gives you one last out, “you want me to split you on my dick? Not my fingers first?”

“I don’t care. Do what you want.” You let yourself go limp in his hold, and he does as he threatened. You feel him remove your layers slowly, a small torture, but you’re fit to endure when it leads to the warmth of his hands. They grab you all over, your stomach, your tits and shoulders. Then they make their way down.

Miguel makes a pleased grunt when he finds you wet, and doesn’t waste any time. You feel his cock split you, something you can’t get used to. You used to try and fight it, writhe and squirm. It took you a couple times to realize you’re too weak. In Miguel’s hands all your strength needs nothing. Every time he’s pinned you against him, held you close while inching his cock inside.

He moves his hips till you can feel his balls on your clit, and then sighs. Relief, something you wish you could be granted. You’re whining, all because you can feel him throbbing in your guts, against your cervix.

“Listen to me next time,” he grumbles, sounding strangely fond of you.

Then the sympathy fades away, and he starts to move. He’s not gentle, he’s fucking you to prove something. He’s the only one who can give it to you like this. Who can make you lose your mind on a cock.

“This is what I wanted, fuck.” You can tell it affects him when you wrap your legs around him, dig your feet into his ass to push him in deeper. “Feel so good. Can’t stop clenching all over me, huh. Feels like you’re trying to milk me.” He huffs into your neck. “That it? You want my come, baby?”

He brings his hips down harder, so deep in you breathing feels difficult. You moan and agree to whatever he says, nodding without thinking. Making promises you can’t keep.

He tells you that your cunt’s the best, nobody else can take me this deep, and that’s why you can’t date other guys, need to keep this pussy mine. All while you look into his eyes with a blank stare, almost like you love him while he drills you.

“That’s why you’re gonna be good for me,” he says, “because if not, I’ll just remind you again, just like this.”

[peachsayshi]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ when gojo has a crush on geto's childhood best friend

minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

ೃ⁀➷ notes: a little match up break because this has been running through mind all day & it was inspired by this fun quiz! my baby boy is so sweet and sincere when he's love, even though it's doesn't always come across that way x

ೃ⁀➷ tags: angst and fluff; unrequited(ish) love; pining wc: 970

♡ satoru's heart races when suguru introduces you to him for the very first time. of course, he's dated before but those were fleeting. the ones who came into his world swiftly left because he was too "emotionally unavailable" and "never made enough time". he wonders if his infatuation hit him this hard, and struck him this deeply to the point where it actually rendered him speechless, or if this sudden problem is simply because of you.

♡ my goodness, you're pretty. so, so pretty that he can't stop blushing. that he stumbles over his words and says the wrong thing. that he can't stop walking into doors and knocking over glasses. he can't compose himself and winds up coming across as a complete and utter fool. how is he supposed to keep an even keel when at the slightest look you manage to throw him off center?

♡ suguru eventually tells him that you were both neighbors, your families very good friends, and that you used to have sleepovers every weekend which have made you both inseparable ever since. he shares his memories with little anecdotes about you, but he pays attention to the intrigue in satoru's eyes. geto is extremely protective of you and warns his friend not to mess around. "satoru, she's just as important to me as you are," he lectures, "and I won't hesitate to kick your ass if you try and mess around with her". satoru raises his hand in surrender, and stammers out promises that his inquiries are completely Innocent.

♡ you don't take to him so quickly, but satoru insists that it's okay. he thinks it will all change once you get to know him a little bit better, but in the process of proving something to you, he can't seem to stop himself from falling for you. every interaction results in him crawling back to suguru for some guidance on how he can work his magic to win you over. "I just...I just want us to get along..." he murmurs, like a sad little puppy licking his wounds.

♡ at first, geto takes it all with a grain of salt. this isn't the first time a guy has tried to worm their way into your heart, and he isn't surprised that his own best friend would be so taken by you. over time he starts realizing just how serious it is for satoru. how failures on his part to earn your affection results in him wallowing in sadness and pouting with frustration. "you really like her, don't you?" he confronts one night, and to his surprise his best friend simply sighs in defeat as he gazes longingly into the distance. "yeah, I really do..."

♡ geto watches satoru go to extraordinary lengths just to impress you. an idiot in love, he thinks with a smile, but one whose heart is truly worthy of yours. he doesn't step in satoru's way, and offers his assistance wherever he can. he plays matchmaker on the side - removing himself from scenarios in the hopes that quality time can bring you both closer together. he notes all of satoru's gestures: like when he pre orders your favorite drinks so it's ready by the time you arrive, or how he sifts through the compilation of information that he's memorized about you to find you the "perfect" presents, and that he is always the first to jump at your every beck and call.

♡ and satoru...can see it's working; you no longer regard him with disapproving eyes, have dropped your reservations and allowed the most vulnerable parts of you to flourish with him around. he makes you laugh, and it's like walking out of a battle carrying a victory flag. he sees you inching closer when you both sit together, and his heart is so ready to leap out of his own chest just to rest comfortably on your lap. you actually enjoy his company, and he can tell because you both spend a lot more time together without suguru around...

♡ satoru is trying is best, and he thinks he's doing great. "I'm going to tell her tonight," he informs suguru - his cheeks so pink and his smile stretching from ear to ear that suguru thinks it might stay that way permanently. the two of them glance over to you speaking with shoko and utahime, and suguru sweetly pats him on the shoulder before grinning softly in his direction. "go for it," he encourages, "you've been holding out for so long, I think its about time"

♡ satoru approaches you - his palms clammy, his heart racing so fast that it makes him a little dizzy.

♡ but...you don't notice that he and suguru are just within your reach when you let the following confession slip: "satoru is really sweet, but...he's not my type..."

♡ his world stops there.

♡ there's a catch in his throat, and his cheeks turn about five shades of crimson as the three of you turn around to face the interruption of him and geto approaching. you're taken aback by his presence, and he can practically see the shock washing over you, but before you can say anything else he quickly excuses himself and heads outside.

♡ oh, he feels lightheaded, so much so that he needs to sit down. long legs collapse onto the front steps just outside the door and he's struggling to catch his breath. his chest is tight, the stretch extending from his torso down to the discomforting knot in the pit of his stomach. his face is hot with embarrassment, and tears prick his eyes as your words ring around his head in taunting failure.

♡ but you're perfect to me, he thinks with a slight upturn of his brows. you're all I ever wanted.

ೃ⁀➷ part two will be from the reader's pov. ps - im gonna squish this boy with so much love, I swear :ccc

[hegoeshardasfuck]

the line begins to blur

wordcount: 1.1K

tags: alpha/omega, top Sasuke, hint of breeding kink, aftercare

synopsis: He forces himself to sit up, core weak. / Your body chases his touch, arching as he retreats from your flushed form. He shushes you quietly, "Stay put, I'll go run you a bath." / Then he actually takes a moment to stand up on somewhat shaky legs and look at you properly.

authors note: hey hey! its Sasuke day! its also the day i open the gates to my silly little writer/reader/headcanoner discord server, anyone can join if ya wanna hang: https://discord.gg/t6sSCPD4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57622150

You whine as his knot fades and he pulls out so he can wash you off, it's still nice. He spent so many ruts suppressing instinct in a search for power that he can shut it off in a sense if he needs to. Somewhere in your lust addled brain your feel flattered that you rank among the people he'll disconnect a deeply rooted physical and psychological drive for.

His body is sort of tingly as his hormones fade off with a need to eat some food and patch you up. He pulls out and pushes himself off of you and rolls onto the bed beside you. The sheets are dirty, he should also change those, or maybe switch to the couch instead. He forces himself to sit up, core weak.

Your body chases his touch, arching as he retreats from your flushed form. He shushes you quietly, "Stay put, I'll go run you a bath."

Then he actually takes a moment to stand up on somewhat shaky legs and look at you properly.

Cum drips from your inflamed cunt, the ravages of heat having thrown you into an inconsolable mental state once more. It didn't matter how many times your Alpha marked you and fucked you and bred you, your dumb body wanted more. He's glad your body is dumb enough to keep wanting more of this even though his ruts are shorter than your heats.

Your melty brain was also tagging along for the ride. Thoughts unable to work quite right. Body surging with want every second. No chance of satisfaction in sight. This is what bliss feels like, isn't it?

Unable to think right unless your Alpha's fangs are in your throat and his cock is in your cunt. Bouncing on his length as you moan out wantonly for him the whole while, or splayed out as he rails into you without any hesitation at all. Bliss, bliss, bliss, biological instinct fulfilled and nothing but dopamine floods your brain every time he came.

You hiss as lukewarm water hits your body and he lets you rest in the sudsy bubbles. You claw at the edges of the tub and he grips your wrists tight, "Don't, this is so your joints don't feel awful after your heat is over."

You whimper as he easily holds you hostage at the wrists alone. The power imbalance always present but it makes you extra aroused like this.

Sasuke gives a small smile as he looks down at you, "Once you're out of the tub we can fuck again."

You give a pleased trill at the notions.

"Just another day or so left," Sasuke said, he wasn't sure if it was out of disappointment or glee that he'd get you like this for that time frame. Maybe if society was a little bit less oriented on getting the job done as a shinobi then he'd rather you like this far more often, just a little fucktoy that wants your masters cock. He can feel his brain starting to fuzz at the edges at the mental image alone.

Then you lean into the touch as he runs a towel across your shoulders and then wipes away the drool on your cheek. You give a syrupy saccharine smile the whole time.

He wants you, simple as that.

But he holds strong, he said he'd wash you off and let you soak for the sake of your joints, so he'll hold true to that.

-/-/-/-

Nothing but sheer pleasure rolls through your body as his knot slams against your hole with every thrust, it never just slides in like so. He has to work for it. Low growls erupting from his chest as he does so, a certain ferality to the way he moves.

Claws dig into the pillows above your head as he pounds into you relentlessly. Drool spills past the corner of your lips the whole while, estranged moaning that borders on drunk giggling escapes you. Then a hearty yowl as he rails into your cervix with a grounding thrust. A slick popping sound reverberates in your ears as his knot fits in.

That sensation of being full settles in as he ruts against you, hips tied together but still searching desperately for friction. His fangs sink into your neck again for the hundredth time these last few days, you won't be able to leave the house without a scarf. Tender flesh black and blue and full of puncture marks when he really went down with intent to mark, any memory of the marks of matrimony erased from his brain.

Close, he's close- you've been pushed past the point of close in the first day. Just a numbing sort of pleasure without any crescendo or fall has been running through you the entire course of heat. Limbs loose and body rife with need. You pant and whine as he tries to thrust, only able to hump you against the mattress, no room for real motion.

He snarls as orgasm hits him, body quaking faintly as you hook your legs across his lower back. Making sure he's held in closer, blunt head pressed hard against your cervix. An animal part of your brain is begging and pleading you get bred, you've been together for a year, that's more than enough time to have already been breeding like rabbits. The rest of your brain is also short circuiting to the point of wanting this to take.

Heavy breathing and a heaving chest make up Sasuke's efforts to not fall over onto you completely. His arms don't shake, but he does give in. Nuzzling against you affectionately and lapping at your throat the whole while, the breed instinct followed up by the comfort instinct.

Soft words of praise and ownership filter out of him as he waits for his knot to come down so you can go at it again. As many times it'll take for the sludgy mental state of a heat cycle to fade out. He doesn't bother to try and cut the hormones in his brain right now, even if it'd allow him to get up and go get some water. The instinctual fluxes washing over him is nice every now and then, keeps him in check.

Especially when it allows him to take care of you. He ruts against you periodically and you give little moans every single time. The worn out state of your body ignored as that rich sensation of want comes about you once more with each motion. He'll have to deal with this for how many more days? He doesn't care much, so long as he's spending them fucking his Omega's brains out, molding your cunt to only want him.

[whumpitisthen]

Too Much

alt.: How to Break a Defiant Whumpee 101, cws in tags!

When the lock clicks and the door opens once again, the foreboding light cascades down in the form of a person's shadow onto him and he cannot hold in a moan of distress.

He jerks his hands down against the cold floor in helpless, terrified frustration. His blood trickles from under the thick cable wire tying his wrists tightly together, collecting in a puddle with the rest of his spilled life force on the floor. Those cuts barely had time to close over, now torn open again. It cannot have been more than a couple hours since the last visit; what had he done to incur this unbearable punishment today? Who did he piss off this bad?

He listens to the familiar, heavy footsteps nearing him, hoping desperately that they aren't here for him. Unfortunately, those steel-toed boots enter his vision and do not leave, slowing to a stop right in front of his cell, peeking through the bars curiously. He wishes that just once, they would walk right past him; that he would be ignored and left alone. Alas, today has not been the luckiest.

"Oh, just look at you. Always such a sight for sore eyes."

"F-Fuck off."

Leaning up against the cell door, they trail their eyes along every inch of his skin. Of all his captors, this one might just be the worst, if only for their creepy fucking mannerisms. It's hard to forget about those intense, dark eyes and that impossibly smooth, gross voice that makes his skin crawl and keeps him company even in his nightmares. Among all the other things he was hoping for just a moment ago, not having to see them today was quite high up on his list.

They click their tongue. — "You still have your tongue then. Could've fooled me. You look awful."

Their grin made the insult sound more like a twisted compliment. He forces out another weak reply. — "Wow. Thanks."

They pause, tapping their index finger against one metal bar. They are just standing there, staring at him. Their expression is infuriatingly pleasant.

He fucking hates this. Why couldn't they just leave him alone today? Why does he have to be looking up at this terrifying motherfucker from the coldest, most uncomfortable corner of his cell, already exhausted, beaten halfway to death, and be forced to go through yet another round of pain? This just isn't fair.

They take a deep, content sigh, seemingly done with their sightseeing. — "Right."

They back up to stretch, then fit the key into the cell door, promptly sliding inside once it's open. His foreseeable future has swiftly become his near future, and he is anything but ready for it to become his present.

"W-Wait, wait, don't come in, you can't be ser— "

"How could I not when you look so lonely, cuddled up to the wall all by yourself?" — they sing, watching him struggle to push himself further into the corner he was left in by the one before them. From this close, it's even more apparent how rough he had it lately.

If the numerous black-purple pools of blood under his skin weren't enough, the fresh pool by his hand and the splatter of red across the walls would make it more than obvious. Everywhere they look they find another cut, another bruise, another mark and slash and burn. The ever present rings around his wrists are deeper, and now a new one resides around his throat like a collar. His eyes are dark and crimson, looking at them like he might just burst into tears.

He pushes his back into the wall with a cry. A new desperation has morphed his voice into something truly delicious. — "Just, leave, leave me alone!"

They smile innocently. — "Oh, should I? I'll consider it."

"No, stop, please — !" — his throat rasps and breaks his words, but that is nothing new. What is new, however, is the begging. This one has to be forced to beg usually, and now here he is, already close to sobbing for them to just let him be before they could even set a hand on him.

With something between a groan and a whimper, he twists his body to be hidden, curling up to the side and squeezing his eyes shut as he cowers, shaking, shielding his face with bound hands before they could even reach him. He looks utterly pathetic, and that melts their heart — but then they notice something truly surprising, something deviously intriguing.

"Don't tell me... Baby, are you crying? Already?" — They do not even try to hide the grin in their voice as they kneel in front of him. He only curls up tighter, sniffling. — "Now you're starting to worry me. This is very unlike you. I expect insults and swearing, not weeping."

He doesn't respond with anything but a huff of air. They try to peer behind those twitching fingers — a couple of them are definitely broken — but their curiosity isn't sated. The thought of finally having broken him crosses their mind. — "What happened?"

Their question goes unanswered. This guessing game is already starting to irritate them.

They take a light hold of one of those fractured fingers, leering; only a threat for now. — "You know I prefer screams to silence."

"Don't," — he half-wheezes.

"Talk to me then. What's troubling you, sweetheart?" — they cut him off entirely, cooing like they aren't the very reason he's like this.

"I'm... I'm scared."

"I can tell."

"I just — please, I-I just —"

They say nothing. He swallows dryly.

"I just don't want to be hurt again," — he whispers miserably, — "I can't, again, I can't — "

They still don't say anything. They still hold onto that damn finger. He almost wishes they would just get on with the torture instead of whatever this is.

"What, what do you want from me? Just fucking leave! Please!" — he yells, pleads, loses his mind a little more. — "Are you blind? Do you seriously want me to explain to you why I'm, why I'm having a-, a fucking meltdown?"

"I've barely had a, a single minute to myself today where I didn't have to en-entertain any of you pricks, and when I think it's finally over, when, when I get just a second, a m-, a moment to breathe," — he takes a strained couple inhales, almost hyperventilating before harshly gulping down his anxiety again, fighting sobs, — "y-you fucking show up. Like you always do. And, and now I'm here, yet again, left on the floor tired and, and hurt and bleeding — and you're, you're — it always g—, it never gets better. It never f-fffucking stops."

Nothing more is said for a while. They just watch him cry in his little corner coated in fresh blood, breaking apart in front of them. This is an incredible, rare sight. An important moment. They see a precious opportunity and they simply cannot resist seizing it.

They let go of his hand, gently laying their palm on his head instead. The gasp and the flinch are wonderfully unexpected, yet so beautiful to see. — "How many of us came today?" — they inquire softly, almost genuine.

His fragile throat lets out the most raw, wretched sounds they have ever heard him make. — "Y-You were the only one who hasn't. Eh-everyone and their mother came to visit me. I was really fucking hoping you wouldn't."

Ah. The others all took turns today, huh. They did a fine job at whittling him down. They don't even know how all of them managed to get their round in in such a short period of time.

"All five of us?"

"Yeah," — he mumbles. He's furiously wiping at his eyes, starting to lose all hope of getting any rest now that they are this close, and clearly not leaving any time soon. He hoped this embarrassing outbreak would at least deter them somehow, but none of his hopes today came true. They aren't exactly a bleeding heart who would change their mind about torturing him just because he's a little sad. If anything, he thinks, being this pathetic might have just spurred them on. — "But it doesn't, doesn't matter, does it? You sadistic freaks don't care about anything but, but beating the shit out of me any chance you get. I don't know why I thought that you of all people would understand."

This is perfect.

They lean in close. — "Me of all people? What's that supposed to mean? Am I special?"

"Especially annoying." — Now that's more like him. Retorts and insults flying out of his mouth like bullets. They really wish they could have him confess that he finds them the most intimidating out of everyone, that the ‘annoyance’, as he put it, comes from the fact that his backtalk doesn't have any effect on them, and that they know him on a deeper level than any of the others and that scares him more than anything — but they recognise when the moment allows for a play like that. He's already building up his walls again; they can't let this moment slip through their fingers.

"Mmm. Well, I have a proposal for you." — They dig their fingers under his great mess of locks, not unkind. — "Look at me."

"That's not a proposal."

"I'll tell you once you look at me."

"No."

They sink their hand in deeper, twisting into his hair like the claws of a beast. — "Come on. Don't you want to hear it?"

He only lifts his hands higher to hide behind, now muffling his tone. — "I know that, th-that you only want to see me cry."

They smile. — "Yes. And I know you want to avoid more pain."

This thinly veiled threat does two things: it pisses him off, and it brings back that foolish hope that they will take mercy on him if he behaves as they like.

Just one more push. A soft, light order. — "Look at me, baby."

Ordinarily, this would never work. He might even laugh in their face or spit at them for asking, especially so sweetly. This time, however, he is just a lonely, sad little guy in a cell, desperate for sweetness. They wait patiently. He shudders uncomfortably, snivelling.

Silently, with a deadly glare, he finally looks at them.

His eyes are red, puffy, and so, so tired. His lips are bitten bloody, cracked, pouting. The scar over his right cheek has been reopened, enlarged to run down the side of his neck. A gorgeous purple bruise has nestled under his left eye, running like paint in water across his skin. His tears drew clean streaks along his face, sliding down the length of his neck. It's beautiful, mesmerising. They are mesmerised for a little too long, though.

"I hate you so fucking much, you're so gross," — he hisses, done watching their eyes rake over him like an object while having the most adoring, fond smile doing so. It always sends a shiver down his spine when they do this, and having them be so close just makes it even more unbearable. He can clearly see their eyes refocus and return to make eye contact at his remark and it makes him nauseous.

It's fascinating how little bite his voice holds now, with the tears still flowing freely and his throat closed up. So many thoughts of torment run through their mind, images of taking advantage of this weakened state he is in and breaking him until there is nothing left, until he is like this all the time; crying and pitiful and obedient and lovely. None of that makes it to the surface.

"My proposal is this;" — they say instead, — "we could go on with what I had planned for today. This option includes this high voltage shock collar I brought with me."

As they turn to get the collar he assumes they must be bluffing, but horrifyingly enough, they turn back with a thick, black loop of leather with a box attached to it and a remote in their other hand, grinning excitedly. He remains silent in shock.

"Or," — they say after a pause to let him simmer in anticipation, setting their toy to the side, — "we could forget about that for now, and let you rest instead. How does that sound?"

He can barely believe his ears. They actually care? This is a trick, it must be.

"You're lying." — His splotchy face must have betrayed his bewilderment, because they murmur a chuckle before they respond.

"I am not. I can tell you are in a lot of pain."

They take a gamble as they take his head into their hand gingerly, turning him towards them by one shoulder and one cheek carefully, fully expecting him to struggle. There is resistance, as always, but quieter, just a small weight put behind pulling them forward which might as well just be his tired body refusing to cooperate. He says nothing. His lip wobbles. His expression is less cutting than usual, the edge replaced by worn flesh and agony.

They make an effort to remove all malice from their eyes, looking at him with sympathy and love instead. They give him exactly what he has been craving for the weeks he has been trapped here. Someone who can tell him they know he has been trying his best.

They look right into his eyes empathically, and sadly sigh; — "You're just tired, aren't you?"

Those are the magic words to open the gates to his true anguish. Something about this awfully simple, assuring sentence whispered so knowingly — it breaks something in him, and his eyes fill with fresh tears, and he cannot help the sobs bubbling to the surface. Because it is that simple, isn't it? He is so, so damn tired. All he wants is some rest. The assurance that someone sees him struggling, and understands how badly he hurts, and how little he really asks for. Coming from his torturer, it should not feel so liberating. But he is far past rationalism, his want for a single kind gesture has long become a burning need he would do anything for in this moment.

He may regret it later, but for now he leans into their hand as he lets every sob he ever swallowed down free, letting them see how broken he truly is already. From under all that grit and animosity comes pure childlike, innocent suffering, so potent he doesn't know what to do with it besides letting it envelop him. Just the right opportunity and a couple pokes, and he has crumbled under all this weight.

They lead him closer, pulling him out of his defensive position against the wall slowly to embrace him. He is all but powerless to stop his fragile form from moulding under their touch, gasping wretchedly in their arms. He is shivering like a leaf. It's intoxicating.

There they remain until his sobs weaken, and his exhausted body slumps against them like dead weight. Somewhere along the line they had let themself slide down to the ground, inviting him to lie on something soft for the first time in forever, even if it is only their own body. The floor isn't exactly clean — it's quite disgusting in fact — but it is well worth it to have this ball of resentment tamed for even a small bit, even if they have to lie on filth for it. This one instance of kindness will have lasting effects on their relationship and him as a person, even if he doesn't realise it, or even if he does. He will find it hard to look at them the same way, and will find it difficult to keep up his defiance in front of them when he knows they have seen him truly at his wits end.

He may let them touch him more often without a word. He may find it easier to do as they say without fighting. He may grow more attached to them through this, having a closer connection to them than to any of the others. He may even ask them again, once the time comes, to have mercy on him again, and they will give it to him, letting him fall deeper and deeper. He will have to swallow his pride, and he will only swallow it for them. This small moment will be crucial in the future. Maybe they could capitalise just a little more on this by telling the others they can't see him for a day. They will visit him tomorrow and ease his mind again, let him heal, see how he acts after this humiliating exchange.

The unconscious man in their arms will learn to be theirs with time; he has already made so much progress. This one is theirs, just as soon as it becomes too much to bear again.

...

He didn't even yell at them for calling him baby.

~

Taglist: @morning-star-whump

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[pajarinwrites]

中秋节 | Wen Junhui x Reader

➳ fem!reader x jun

➳ wc: 6.1k

➳ TAGS: idol!au, established relationship

➳ WARNINGS: omg um, cunnilingus, jun is a SIMP, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it, my dudes), praise, just general adorable lovey dovey softness, but like medium rough sex? ig, not really rough?, i never know how to write warnings, just like i don't know how to write smut woops sorry

➳ AN: HAPPY MID AUTUMN FESTIVAL BITCHES and 女王们; this is only moderately edited bc i actually meant to publish smt for 中秋节 last year but i didn't finish it in time so here it is now (I’m sure it’s still autumn festival somewhere in the world…)! I LOVE WEN JUNHUI

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE SMUT I HATED THIS AHHHH i don't think i'll ever be able to write any smut in which the man isn't a simpering, whimpering, submissive, cowering, crawling, obsequious little simping piece of trash; it's just how i like my men, but i kinda wanna challenge myself some time, not this time though :P also i'm low-key proud of this smut? i used miraclewoozi as an inspiration bc their smut is literal art...

also, literally three pieces in one week??? WHO AM I??? this is more than in the entire year before combined, i fear lmao. sorry. i'm off to return to hibernate in my bog for another six months now thx bye, RIN OUT *drops mic

masterlist

Jun stepped out of the airport into the sweltering heat, but had to find that merely knowing the weather conditions was quite different from being prepared for them. Luckily, he had left enough space in his carry-on to take off the jacket and sweater that he had needed in chilly Seoul and during the flight – airplane ACs were notoriously unpredictable. Despite this, Hong Kong never seized to amaze him with its constant warmth. At least the eternal sunshine gave him a good excuse to wear a cap and sunglasses at all times.

He flagged down a cross-border cab because, frankly, he didn’t feel like taking the crowded metro all the way home. This way he saved himself from a lot of heat, hassle, and the potential of being recognised, even if it delayed him. As expected, the traffic in the city was a nightmare and he did make it home later than strictly necessary. He paid the fee, dodging the driver’s interested gaze, and mumbling a small “mh gōi” before dashing into his building.

When he was finally standing in front of his apartment door, Jun felt ready to just lock himself in his room for the rest of the night. That was, until the door opened to reveal his parents and little brother. Immediately, his frown softened and he dropped his bags to engulf them in one enormous hug.

“I missed you guys so much,” he exclaimed to groans from his little brother and a soft smile from his mother.

This was most likely going to be the last chance he got to spend more than a day or two with them. With their world tour and his busy filming schedule just around the corner, he wouldn’t have time for months.

Jun had spent years of Zhōngqiūjié apart from them. It wasn’t easy to watch most of his members be able to visit their homes and spend Chuseok with their loved ones. Some years it was only him, Minghao, and Joshua in the dorms. But he wasn’t going to dwell on that. Not when he could finally hold the people he loved the most in his arms. Well, most of them at any rate. He would never get used to having to choose between his biological and his chosen family.

His mother peeled herself away from him, squeezing his cheek and insisting that he had grown even more handsome over the last few weeks.  His step father clapped him on the shoulder and asked him about the flight; his brother asked if he had brought him anything cool. Unable to stop smiling for even a second, Jun assented to both questions. He was led to the living room by his mother to sit and relax after the ‘strenuous journey’, giving him a moment to fish the presents out of his luggage, handing one off to his little brother.

“Thanks, gē!” YangYang exclaimed and bounded off to his room to open it in peace. Their mother called after him, “Don’t forget to do your homework before playing! Dinner will be ready in an hour!” Jun smiled, handing his parents the other one.

“You shouldn’t have! I keep telling you we don’t need anything.”

“But I want to get you guys nice things, mā.”

She looked trapped half-way between smitten and resigned, but accepted the present gracefully. With a kiss on the top of his head she stated, “You can rest a little before I call you boys for dinner. I’m making your favourite.”

He thanked her, foregoing the idea of retiring to his room in favour of joining his mother in the kitchen. Most of the ingredients were already laid out on the counter, but when she bent down to pick up something from the bottom shelf, she gasped, “I can’t believe it! Where did all of our rice noodles go? I don’t think this is enough. And I also forgot to buy bamboo shoots earlier!”

She turned around, apologetically, and murmured about having to go to the market real quick to get some. Jun held out his hand to stop her in her tracks.

“Don’t worry, mā. I’ll go get the missing ingredients, and you can get started on the other dishes.”

“No let me go, Jun. You’ve just had a taxing flight and—“ His step-father tried to intervene.

“It’s absolutely no problem!” Jun insisted, not paying his parents’ protests any mind. He grabbed his sunglasses from the side table by the entrance and was out the door before either of them could stop him.

Jun had missed their shèqū, its homely atmosphere, the bustling of the people on the street, and hence didn’t mind the opportunity for a late-night stroll. The closest super market was just down the short road at the main square, and he stopped by quickly before continuing on his way to the live market.

There was a certain nostalgia in going to the market like this, just the way he used to with his mother when he was younger. The stalls didn’t even seem to have changed at all. There was the same group of old ladies dancing in the small park to the side, and a little further down the road, a small group of children was taking turns, performing on a gǔzhēng. Jun watched the windows of his old piano school pass by, still partially lit as students practiced inside. At the corner of the next street was the second-hand book store they had often visited, next to the pharmacy in which he used to sit on the kiddie rides for ages, singing along to jiātíng chēnghu or liǎng zhī lǎohǔ.

Still lost in nostalgia, he stopped by one of the vegetable vendors to acquire the bamboo shoots. Jun enjoyed strolling the aisles leisurely, taking a look at all the things that were being sold. As he rounded one of the displays, someone else was cutting the corner in the opposite direction. Jun barely managed to dance out of the trajectory of them, murmuring an immediate, “Sorry, are you okay?”

He pulled down his sunglasses and looked at the person in front of him in worry. They looked up, locked eyes with him and whisper-screamed, “Oh my god! Wen Junhui?”

Jun was taken aback for only a split second, which he spent worrying he had been recognised, before he could place your face. He hadn’t seen you properly in years, just another name on the long list of people he had to leave behind. The last time you had run into each other had been during Rock With You promotions, when Minghao and he had taken time for their own schedules in China. His eyes crinkled in the corners but he still didn’t dare to take off his mask.

“It’s been so long!” He said instead. You had pulled him into your arms within a second, just a quick squeeze before remembering where you were. You pulled away, pouting, “You didn’t tell me you’d be back.”

“Sorry, it slipped my mind. I also didn’t think I’d have enough time to meet you. Not properly…”

You wiggled your eyebrows, “What does that mean?” Jun blushed, making you laugh. “I’m kidding, A-Jun. But I’m glad we ran into each other. I mean, what are the odds!”

“I didn’t even know whether you still lived here,” he admitted, sheepishly. But Jun wished profoundly that you could feel how earnest he was being. You didn’t actually seem to mind his failure to alert you of his arrival, despite your history. Instead, you continued in your usual chirpy manner, “Yeah, I managed to find work close by so I could stay here. But I’m here here just for the holiday. Staying at my parents, you know.” Jun nodded, accompanying you to the register under more animated chatter.

“Do you have to get anything else?” You asked after you had stepped out the open market. He negated, returning the question.

“Me neither,” you replied, hesitating shortly before continuing, “I guess that means we’ll have to part ways again…”

The way your voice trailed off and your eyebrows knitted together made Jun reply before thinking better of it, “Actually, I think my mā can wait for these bamboo shoots a little longer…” You face lit up with such intensity and immediacy that Jun had to chuckle.

“In that case let’s take a stroll through the park. I’ve been keeping up with Seventeen obviously, but I want to hear from you, personally, how you’ve been doing.”

Falling into step beside you felt so easy. Together, you walked the same paths you did when you were teenagers, talking about everything and anything – back before he had to leave for Korea. He talked a lot about the shoots, dorm fights and misunderstandings, and how much he had missed his mother’s cooking. You winked, asking whether he hadn’t missed you at all, and he couldn’t string together a coherent sentence in reply. Instead he sputtered for a few seconds before you let him off the hook.

“It’s fine. I was joking, Jun. Oh, look!” Jun was glad for the distraction as he watched you hurry of to the pavilion down the path. If you hadn’t changed the subject he might’ve said something stupid. But when you spun around to face him under the colourful roof, with the small pond and the bamboo in the background, he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t say something stupid yet.

He was sitting next to you, listening to you rant about your catty co-workers, absent boss, and the general annoyances of adulthood, unable to stop himself from grinning like an idiot at the familiarity, the ease of the whole situation. At some point he shot his mom a text to let her know that he ran into you and to eat without him. She simply replied that he should take his time, but he felt like she was secretly glad to have the two of you reconnect. Your conversations veered from family to old memories together until eventually, when the sun had set almost completely, you got up abruptly.

“I should get back. My mom wasn’t expecting me back immediately but at this point she’s probably wondering if I’ve gotten lost.” Jun nodded, getting up with you and stepping out of the pavilion. You threw one look back over your shoulder before smiling down at your shoes.

“I don’t know if you remember but… this is where you said goodbye…” Jun blinked slowly before the memory registered. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t immediately thought of the day he went to Korea, the last day he spent with you, the day he missed his chance to say so many things he had wanted to say.

“Oh,” he breathes softly, “yeah, I remember. But it’s not a very fun memory.”

Jun decides to look anywhere but you, at the trees lining the road home to his apartment building, the birds flying overhead, the children playing across the street.

“I have to agree. But I’m glad to have you back now. Even if it’s just for an afternoon.”

“Actually, you should visit tomorrow! If you want, of course. I don’t think my family would mind seeing you again after such a long time, and…”

He stops in his tracks. The two of you have reached the intersection at which your ways part. Jun turned to face you. The words were still stuck in his throat, just like all those years ago, just like every time he’s seen you since. But this time, with your hopeful eyes looking up at him, he takes a deep breath. This time will be different. He takes the leap.

“… and I’d also love to spend more time with you.”

You smile in reply, and agree to visit tomorrow. To say goodbye, you hug him again, and he feels like he’s floating all the way home. Maybe tomorrow he’ll gain the courage to tell you everything that he’s been keeping in his heart.

Their dorms were quiet, the shared living areas swallowed in darkness as Jun excited his room. He had been talking to his family via video call for the past hour or two, catching up and trying their best to celebrate Zhōngqiūjié together, even when they were physically apart. You had initially planned on joining the call, but there had been last minute plans that had kept you from it. Even though Jun understood, he had been able to help feeling a little crestfallen when you had told him about it. The two of you had made it work since he confessed to you a year ago, talking almost weekly on the phone because both his and your commitments kept you from visiting all too often. And since this year he couldn’t visit home because of the impeding comeback, he would’ve at least enjoyed talking to you on the holiday proper, instead of just during one of your regularly scheduled calls. Especially with how long it had been since he’d last seen you in person in June. To him, an eternity.

Vernon, Dokyeom, and Chan had returned to their families for the evening to celebrate Chuseok together, leaving the dorm deserted, save Jun himself. They’d all met up for lunch as a celebration before most left to go home. It was an effort by the Korean members to ease the homesickness of those that wouldn’t be able to see their families over the holiday. Seungkwan had ended up accompanying Vernon, while Joshua and Minghao decided to simply celebrate with each other, even though they hadn’t been lacking in invitations either. Jun had made the same decision. They had let him know they’d be out until the night but that he could join them at their apartment later.

Especially Dokyeom had had a hard time simply leaving Jun behind, but the older man had insisted that he was going to be fine, and that it would give him a chance to call his family in China. But coming out of his room and being greeted with a cold, dark apartment, made Jun question his decision. He sighed, contemplating for a second whether he should simply return to his room instead of feeling the hollow emptiness of their shared dorm. But before he could make a decision, the doorbell rang.

He wasn’t expecting anyone, so the sudden shrill of the bell surprised him. Maybe it was one of the members, back early. Maybe Minghao and Joshua had decided to surprise him at the apartment. But when he looked at the screen of the camera system, he was greeted with a sight wholly unexpected. His breath hitched as he looked at you, your eyes staring straight at the camera, a warm smile on your face. Jun buzzed you in, jittery with nerves as he worried you might disappear or he might wake up. You had been talking about your crazy workload and extra assignments for the past few weeks, how on earth were you here?

This has to be a dream, he thought, standing in the open door and waiting for the tell-tale ping of the elevator. When he heard it, he couldn’t even wait for you to round the corner. In slippers, he sprinted down the hallway to the lift, coming face to face with you as you were trying to heave your luggage out. Jun cast it aside, picking you up and spinning you around. He buried his face in the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of your perfume and your skin.

“How are you here?” He whispered after a good few seconds of spinning and listening to your tinkling laugh.

“Well, you know, I bought a plane ticket, went to the airport in Hong Kong, I got on a plane—“ Jun interrupted you by picking you up again, proclaiming his happiness while you insisted that he finally put you down. If he had been a better man, he might’ve listened immediately. As it stood, it took the two of you several minutes to make it the short way from the elevator to his apartment door, Jun stopping every few seconds to give you another spin or a kiss.

Once you had finally made it safely inside, he brought your luggage to his room, before returning to the shared space and staring at you in fascination. There you were, right in front of him, leaning onto the counters of his dorm’s kitchen as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“How did you know I’d be home?” He asked and you giggled, presumably at his flabbergasted expression.

“I kind of asked the members for help…”

“What? Who?”

In hindsight, he thought he should’ve expected this. There had been a curious lack of invitations extended to him this year. Especially considering that Joshua and Minghao were still invited everywhere. And, thinking about it now, the fact that the two of them had insisted on spending the evening ‘outside’ without Jun had also been more than a little suspicious.

“Almost all of them helped coordinate it, actually. They all had to be in on it to some extent.”

“When did you start planning this?” He asked, making his way over to you. One last time, he picked you up, setting you down softly on the counter. This time you let him do as he pleased without protest, choosing to answer his question instead, “Like a month ago or so. When it started becoming clear that you’d have no chance to make it home this year.” Jun hummed in response, stepping closer to stand between your legs. His arms found their place around your waist.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmured, resting his head on your shoulder and sighing deeply when he felt you wrap your arms around him. He wished you could stay like this forever, or at least for a very, very long time. You turned your head, whispering that you had brought yuèbǐng from Shenzhen with you and he nodded automatically. Mentally, he was still focused only on your presence, the fact that he got to hold you in his arms and use his thumbs to draw absentminded circles on your waist. If he hadn’t been so focused on your body, he would’ve missed the small hitch of your breath as he exhaled against the column of your throat. He smirked lightly, murmuring something along the lines of ‘we can eat them later’ before attaching his lips to the place where your shoulder and neck met. You gasped, more audibly this time as he sucked on the sensitive skin, following the line of your collarbone. You tugged at his t-shirt, whispering that you should move to his bedroom but Jun smirked against your skin, slowly pushing up your shirt. As he tossed it over your head, he whispered, “Don’t worry, we’ve got the apartment to ourselves all night.”

He smoothed his hands under your thighs, grabbing onto your plush flesh and cursing the layer of your pants for stopping him from feeling your skin. Jun pulled you closer, to the edge of the counter, so that he could finally feel you pressed to him again, making his hands wander back up. He placed them on your waist, gingerly at first, as if you were going to vanish into thin air if he didn’t handle you with enough care. He still wasn’t sure you weren’t a figment of his imagination how you were sitting in front of him, hair and clothes messy from your flight, but your eyes shining so brightly he thought you were the most ethereal being on this planet. But when you bucked your hips forward against his, all that restrain flew out the window. He slid his hands lower from your waist, relishing in every inch of skin he got to touch along the way, before he settled them on your ass, encouraging your motions even further. Your arms tightened around him, one hand finding its way into his hair, the other toying with the collar of his t-shirt before slipping downwards and below the fabric to caress his back. He groaned, moving one hand - albeit reluctantly – away from your hips to tilt your head to the side. He was overwhelmed with your nearness, the swell of your breasts pressed against him, the smell of your skin filling his senses, spreading through him, expanding into every corner of his consciousness until all he could perceive was your presence, your breath, your skin on his.

You kissed him with so much vigour that he felt light-headed, the sparkle of your eyes encapsulated him, as if he was floating in space, surrounded by innumerable stars, twinkling around him. In his weightlessness, your hands were caressing him, still. You dropped them to the hem of his t-shirt, tracing along the exposed skin there as the rhythm of your hips never faltered.

You broke away, Jun following your lips with a whine. He wasn’t yet ready to leave your cosmos, but you pressed a soft hand against his chest, tugging his shirt off. Jun, personally, would have preferred to resume kissing you breathless right away, but you had other plans. Your hands returned to his chest, covering the expanse of his pectorals, gliding over the ridge of his shoulder, caressing every centimetre of skin while tracing the muscles across his torso. Every touch left a tingling feeling, pulling him deeper and deeper into your gravitation. His head was thrown back in pleasure, his eyes screwed shut while he tried (and failed) to even out his breathing under your attentive ministrations. When your hands returned to his chest and you flicked against his nipples tentatively, his head dropped forward in defeat, colliding with your shoulder.

He was breathing more heavily than he’d like to admit, as if he really was slowly rising through the atmosphere, the air becoming thinner and thinner. His cock was painfully hard, you grinding against it deliciously with every roll of your hips. Separated by way too many layers, Jun thought dimly before tapping against your ass, signalling for you to lift your hips off the counter.

You complied easily, leaning back in a way that allowed him to strip you of your comfy leggings. He watched you shudder at the feeling of cool marble under your skin, goosebumps forming at the sensation. Reverently, he let his hands glide up and down your legs, watching you shiver again, just from his touch. He hadn’t even realised that he had lowered himself down until one of your hands grabbed for his hair and tilted his head back.

Ripped out of his reverie, Jun stared up at you, towering over him, backlit by the kitchen lights. If it hadn’t meant leaving your reach, Jun would have fallen to his knees right this second. In this light, you looked like a higher being, come to cast divine judgement on him, a final reckoning. Jun found he would have taken any verdict, as long as it meant preserving your attention. He would have obliged any command, taken any punishment with equanimity. He would have taken Prometheus’ place, if it meant he could bask in your presence for another moment. He would suffer any acrimony, any scorn, any tribulation, if it meant your gaze would continue to rest on him like this – zeroed in on his face, your expression soft with adoration. He didn’t have to fear any judgment. The only thing written on your face was love. It was mirroring his own, he was sure, from where he was pleading for you attention from between your legs. You wouldn’t let him out of your sight, your fingers tugging at his hair with purpose. He angled his head, a miniscule movement, just enough to allow him to breathe a kiss against the inside of your thigh, a fluttering promise of continuation. If you let him. You loosened your grip, and Jun took it as the invitation that it was. His path mapped over the fat of your thigh, spilling over his kitchen counters, up one leg, down the other. All the while, he didn’t break eye contact, watching your expression crackle and slip, pleasure and frustration mixing in even measures as you breathed a plea, “Qīn'ài de, you’re teasing.”

His breathing became uneven, for just a second, at the term of endearment. You didn’t need to spell out your request. He could see it in the rise and fall of your chest, the sounds sneaking their way past your lips, the shifting of your hips – almost involuntary. The vision of you before him blurred as he tried to hear the rest of your declaration over the rushing in his ears. Your legs twitched under his hands; he didn’t remember when he had moved them there. But now they were here, holding your legs apart, leaving imprints in your flesh where they pressed against you. Jun searched your face for any sign of hesitance, any doubt, but he found none. All he could find was a sense of desperation clawing its way up your throat, leaving a blooming blush in its wake.

He still continued holding your gaze when he pressed his mouth to your core, pushing his tongue against the wet spot on your underwear. You gasped a little, hands twisting in his hair, the slight pain grounding him in this moment. His hands continued kneading your flesh, wandering, in feverish haste, across every expanse of skin they could cover. Above him, you writhed and moaned, his name leaving your lips as if you were now the one praying. Your head had tilted back slightly, breaking eye contact. But Jun’s gaze never left your face, drinking in every expression as he pushed your panties to the side to gain proper access to your sopping core.

“OhmygodJun,” you breathed, head lolling to the side when his tongue swirled around your most sensitive spot. One hand moved from your ass to your core, probing at your entrance just to feel you clench around him, hear the sharp intake of your breath. You tipped backwards, resting on your elbows as his name continued to tumble off your lips into the still air of the apartment. Jun’s other hand moved upwards, taking no care in pushing your sports bra out the way to grab at your breasts, pinching your nipples intermittently. He watched your chest heave as he slipped two fingers past your entrance at once, his tongue lapping between them, desperate to taste as much of you as possible. Your hands kept pushing him closer and closer, until his every sense was filled with you. Your taste on his tongue, your panting breath in his ears, the plush feeling of your thighs around his head. He moaned against your core.

Jun felt your high approach, maybe knew it was coming before you yourself even did, the way he could read your body in this moment, with how every fibre of his being was honed in on you and your pleasure.

“Jun, bǎobèi, I’m…”

His hand slid down to your waist, squeezing reassuringly. Jun felt you constrict around his digits, your moans growing louder and more desperate. He kept pressing his fingers into that spot that had you squeeze around him, kept his mouth sucking on your clit, humming at the flavour of you, until you peaked. You came with a cry of his name that made his chest swell with pride. Your thighs shut around his head like a vice, your hand evidently torn between wanting to pull him away and push him closer. Jun remained pressed to your core, lazily lapping at your release until your legs relaxed and he gained enough freedom of movement to lean back and search for your gaze.

Even though he had spent minutes staring at the ethereal picture of you earlier, he was still taken aback by your beauty: your hair even messier, your face blushed, your eyes glazed over in the hazy afterglow. He pressed another kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

It took you a few moments to answer him, calming your breath. A moment of which he took advantage to return to his full height, leaving kisses up your body on his way there. Once he was face to face with you, he brushed your hair out of your face, looking at you with devotion. You smiled back, softly, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and immediately causing a warm shiver to run down the length of his body. There you were, in his arms, gazing at him with love, bestowing him with whatever divine favour slumbered in your presence.

You leaned in closer, letting your breath ghost over his skin for a second before whispering, “I need you.”

Jun was sure he was about to malfunction. The way his body reacted instantly, unbidden, must have been proof of your power. He couldn’t suppress the groan that rose to the surface, betraying his helplessness in the face of you. But you only smiled, sliding off the counter, tossing your bra to the side, and leaning into him.

“I know you need me too, baby,” you susurrated against the shell of his ear, your hand falling to his crotch, smoothing over the outline of his cock against his sweatpants. Jun gasped when you gave his balls a squeeze, trailing your fingers back up, pressing them into his slit, already oozing with precum and staining his pants. He felt like melting, like he was Icarus and you were the sun, with the notable exception that your radiance was warm and welcoming. It didn’t burn him, it only made him feel soft, welcome, malleable. He melted at your touch, moulded himself to the shape of you.

Although Jun felt it was very much stating the obvious, he conceded, “I want you so bad.”

You smiled, discarding your panties in a swift motion, before turning around and bending over the surface.

“Then come get me.”

He only stared, transfixed by the way your muscles moved under your skin, how the warm kitchen light of his home cascaded over you, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief when you turned around to smirk at him. Jun’s mind was still fighting with the fact that you were real, you were here, and you were his. You cocked an eyebrow, watching him like a cat watched its supper. When he still continued to stare, your eyes darkened, beckoning him with intensity. You wiggled your ass at him, pushing it back so it grazed his throbbing dick. As you threatened to pull away again, Jun’s hands flew to your hips. You yelped at the sudden strength with which he gripped you, pulling you back against him once more, grinding down against your ass with such verve that your head dropped forward. A long groan escaped you as Jun crowded you against the counter, pushing you down and leaning over your back.

“You need me, huh?”

You nodded your head enthusiastically while meeting his thrusts, moaning his name again and again, and growing more breathless by the second. Jun wanted to tease you, he really did. He wanted to ask you how bad you needed him. He wanted to force you to be more specific, to hear you say how you needed to feel his cock inside you, hitting that spot over and over again. He wanted to make your pretty lips form all those filthy words, say his name, beg for him. But it had been months since he had seen you in person, it felt like an eternity had passed since his skin was last allowed to touch yours, a lifetime since he heard you whimper and moan and pant for him like this. So, he forewent any more teasing. Instead, Jun simply shoved his sweatpants and underwear down his legs, freeing his cock.

You whined at the sound of it hitting his abs, wiggling your ass again and breathing out his name in that way he would never grow tired of. He grinned, sliding his dick through your slick, nipping its tip against your clit, once, twice, three times. So many times that you whimpered, an indistinguishable string of supplications, whines of baby, please please please leaving your lips. Your forehead was pressed against the counter now, as if the cold, hard surface helped ground you in reality while Jun had his way with you.

When, finally, he slipped into you, both of you sighed. You voices mixing in the air of the kitchen that seemed to have been growing thinner by the second. Jun’s breathing was growing ragged, and he could tell you weren’t faring much better than him. He started moving, slowly at first, testing the waters and, yes, possibly also to rile you up a little more. But when you clenched around him, any self-control was thrown out the window. His hands on your lower back were shoving you down against the ice-cold surface, making you hiss. His hips snapping against your ass as he searched for that spot that would make you drool over the marble countertops.

“Fuck… yes! Baby, right there,” you groaned when he found it.

Jun leaned back down over you, his front pressed against your back, his hot breath by your ear, whispered prayers of your name escaping him. He drove into that spot relentlessly, repeatedly until you lost all function of speech, reduced only to swears and his name. Jun mirrored your vocabulary, one hand sneaking around your body to find your clit again and rub punishing circles. With the added stimulation of his hand, the pressure of his weight, and the way his cock was hitting that spongy part inside you again and again, you felt your pleasure crest alarmingly fast.

“Junjunjunjunjun,” you breathed, but, again, he somehow had known before you what was coming. His groans surrounded you, your perception narrowed to just the feeling and sound of him.

“Hold on a little longer, baby,” he breathed, and you barely registered it. Just nodding for the sake of nodding, praying his own release would find him fast.

“Doing so well, baby. So good for me,” he continued, almost to himself, baiting your release even more.

A few agonising, timeless moments passed until, “That’s it, let go. Come for me, baby. Come with me.”

Immediately, you released a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, you head falling forward again as your whole body tensed up. Jun followed your example, his head dropping against your shoulder as he drove his cock into you, prolonging both of your releases as much as possible, until the sensitivity forced him to pull out. He remained folded over you, so close that he could feel his cum drip out of you, landing on the kitchen floor with a small splat. The air felt too thin for any movement, so he remained draped over you, his thumb drew circles on your lower back until you returned to him, mumbling his name.

“Are you alright, qīn'ài de?”

You nodded almost imperceptibly, your hair sticking to the nape of your neck. Jun brushed it to the side, leaving a small peck where it had been.

“Nooo,” you whined, “I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t care,” he replied, matter-of-factly, smoothing his hand down your back one last time before peeling himself off you to get some tissue. His heart tore a little at the weak whine you let out in response to his absence.

“Don’t worry, I’m just trying to take care of you.”

You only whined more when he wiped the rest of your combined release from between your legs before also cleaning the floor. He caught your eyes from over your shoulder, smiling softly, and leaving another kiss on your back. After getting rid of the tissue, he pulled you off the counter, wrapping you up in his arms.

“You were amazing. I love you.”

He could hear the smile in your voice when you replied, “So were you, bǎobèi.”

“I can’t believe you’re really here…”

“I missed you something fierce,” you said by way of explanation.

“Me too. I miss you every day. Every hour.”

To his confusion, you smiled warmly at his pout, one hand caressing along the side of his face until it came to rest on his collarbone. You leaned in, lips ghosting against his in a silent promise, “Then let’s make the most of right now.”

Jun grinned, bending down to pick you up, laughing at the surprised yelp you let out.

“What on earth are you doing, Wen Junhui!”

“I think it’s time for a bath.”

“That is not what I was trying to insinuate!”

He wiggled his eyebrows, feeling his heart sore at your scandalised expression. Resting his forehead against yours, his eyes searched for yours, holding their stare for a few moments. With a smile on his lips and in his voice he murmured, “I don’t care what exactly we do in the bath, as long as we do it together.”

[pickingupmymercedes]

Under an Ipê tree - Lewis Hamilton

The three times your annual visit to Senna’s tomb brought something different

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Senna! Reader

warnings: mentions of death, mourning, AD 21', Lewis at Ferrari (rubbing salt into every open wound apparently)

wordcount: +1k

a/n: Not gonna lie, started this one with something in mind and it took a life of its own. I know Senna! Reader isn't everyone's cup of tea, so please, proceed with caution, because there is mention to real events and real emotions envolved with mourning. Also, AD 21', I'm sure as hell not over that, so here's another trigger warning.

a/n. 2: Those trees are how pink Ipês look in blossom, I know Brasil is not known for its colder months but those beauties come alive after the few cold weeks.

_______________________________________

Like most traditions it started without any intent on actually becoming a thing. You and Lewis would take a couple hours off on Wednesdays before the Brazilian GP every year, the destination a known one to everyone in the paddock. It was a journey you used to do by yourself until Lewis had been the brave, and first one, to ask you if he could tag along. He’d been to Senna’s tomb before, you knew that much, but the respect and adoration he held for your late father had you deciding he should be good company.

_______________________________________

“I swear I had never seen my mom angrier. Can you imagine her with the speaker at Interlagos shouting to everyone with an ear that I shouldn’t be racing and if anything happened Ayrton was to blame cause I wasn’t even old enough to be there” You told a laughing Lewis while remembering when your father faked an ID so he could sneak you to the track and teach you how to race in your brand new - Mclaren themed – kart. A Christmas gift he went out of his way to get to the famous Brazilian track circuit in time to open day.

“You know, my favorites snippets of his life are the ones you talk about, Sundays at the pool, ice cream dates, kart running without your mom knowing. Whenever someone talks about him it’s always about his wins, his hardships, his cars and battles … it’s almost as if he didn’t exist beyond formula 1, like we froze just a fraction of him and forgot all about the rest.” 

You smiled at him, you liked how Lewis never questioned your feelings towards f1’s out of this world idolatry on your father, mainly because at the end of the day, to your 8 year old past self, Ayrton was first and foremost “pai”, the dude that thought you not to be afraid by throwing you into the ocean when no one was looking, the one that cooked instant noodles for dinner in spite of your mom’s pleads, the one that constantly tried to show you that love is a feeling we should act upon in the present and never wait for a so promised tomorrow.

“He would’ve liked you I think… would’ve hated to race you, for sure. But as a person, he would have probably seen you as one of the good ones, pointing out bullshit, fighting fia every chance you get, protecting the guys back at the garage, focusing on racing and not talking, looking out for everyone.” You answered truthly, as he respectfully held his hands behind his back looking at the tomb stone, while you casually sat in the edge of the stone, almost too comfortable around the place from all the visits you’ve done over the years.

“I think you should meet Galisteu someday, she’ll have way more interesting stories about him to tell you than I do.” You absentmindedly noted, remembering all she’s told you about your father, this other side to him you never got the time to see.

“Nah… we’re our truest around kids, his best version was the one you got to see. Now, what was that time he sneaked a stray dog onto your apartment?” he asked while reaching for your shoulder so you both could walk along the path back to the car awaiting to take you both back.

_______________________________________

“I don’t think I really remember the sound of his voice” you sighed looking up at the Ipê tree just beside the tomb. You had shown Lewis a photo of what it looked like once in full blossom before, in the Brazilian winter, and he promised you he would eventually find the time to come see it in its full glory in late June.

The walk in the cemetery, the light hearted banter, him opening his heart on dreams and the future and the confessions you would eventually make to Lewis about Ayrton were part of the annual occurrence you had both unspokenly agreed on, but that one line seemed to have hit him hard enough he just motioned you to go on, no answers or remarks. 

“I mean, I know what his voice sounds like because there’s a thousand and one interviews with him, but I don’t think I can truly remember what he sounded like in real life … how he talked to me.” You explained it further, now looking at the Briton.

He engulfed you in a hug, the kind only he knew how, your tears leaving marks on his shoulders. You would rarely cry over anything related to your father, at least not in front of people anyway, but Lewis was… well, Lewis. You and Niki were the one who pushed, like hell, to sign him to Mercedes back in 2014 against everyone’s better judgment, and while you knew he would be every bit the driver and phenomenon he was, neither of you anticipated the friendship that came out of seeing him almost every GP you attended. A relationship that had crept its own way into your hearts, slowly allowing to see each other as something more than just good friends.

“He’s proud of you, wherever he is. I know that much” He whispered, leaving a soft kiss to your temple and bringing you even closer to his body.

_______________________________________

“He would’ve crashed into Verstappen back in 2021, wouldn’t he?” He prompted out of nowhere, gazing seriously at the tomb as you observed him pondering over the possible outcomes of a race that, like a ghost, had been following him nonstop, specially with the São Paulo GP fast approaching and with it his chances of securing his 8th title, two races before the end of the season.

“Start another Senna vs. Prost ?! ” You thought out loud, trying to read into his expressions and mannerisms, a talent of his you weren’t quite as good.

“Maybe I should’ve done it”

“You’re not like that Lew. You’re you and no one, not a single person, wants someone else” Your exasperation clear in your voice, hands reaching for his chin as his eyes locked into yours and he nodded, an unspoken agreement between the two of you, one you had to hammer into his head from time to time, that he may have Ayrton as his idol but he was just as much of an icon to the sport, and to a million of kids out there.

“On Sunday you’re going to reach that top step in your red suit, fulfill Ayrton’s dream and claim a championship for Ferrari. You. Not him, nor anyone else” and come the end of the race, he did just that. Smiling down at the sea of people in a mix of old Mercedes merchs and new Ferrari ones, dedicating his trophy to all the other people who believed in the impossible with him. 

[nothorses]

#idk i have thoughts about the 'binar v. nonbinary' distinction. i think there is a reason#that trans people get degendered when they use binary pronouns#AND wrongly gendered when they use use gender neutral pronouns#for example

i'm intrigued by these thoughts would you like to share more about these thoughts

I think I'd boil it down to like... specifically the idea of "binary trans" people as a class.

I very firmly believe that the oppression of nonbinary people ("exorsexism") exists and is a real form of oppression, and I believe that experiences with it- and the ideological foundation it rests on- are unique and worth discussing. I think nonbinary people have unique experiences with oppression that are necessary to listen to and understand, and that it is to everyone's benefit to include in those perspectives in larger conversations around trans justice.

I specifically take issue with the idea that there is a group of people that can easily & universally be differentiated as "binary trans" in anything but how those people personally identify.

I think that, socio-politically speaking, the only people that are truly classed as "binary" are 100% gender-conforming dyadic cis people. When we're talking about transphobia as a concept, we're talking about a system of oppression meant to punish people who stray from the gender binary. Historically, anyone punished under this system was included under the "trans" umbrella: gender-non conforming cis people, drag kings and queens, nonbinary people, intersex people, you name it. We are all gender outlaws; we all exist outside traditional understandings of gender, and we are all punished for doing so.

Now, we can narrow the scope quite a bit; I do still have the ability to "pass" as my gender, which is not an option to a lot of nonbinary folks. I can get a gender marker that accurately reflects my gender, and I can go "stealth" in a way that doesn't cause me a lot of dysphoria. I absolutely acknowledge that there are experiences I do not have, and oppression I do not face, and I should take care to listen to the people who do face them.

The problem for me here is that like, none of those things are exclusively "binary trans" experiences either. Plenty of nonbinary people are not strictly outside of every binary gender, or outside of comfort with a binary gender presentation. Such is the enormous multitude of nonbinary identities, and the unknowable vastness of human experience.

The other, perhaps larger problem for me is that I also do not strictly have a "binary trans male" experience. I mean, least of all because I have still at this point spent more of my life identifying as nonbinary than I have as a trans man- but also because I'm still trans. In a lot of ways, I'm not actually viewed as "binary"; I am clock-able enough that I'm pretty regularly degendered by even incredibly well-intentioned cis people, for example. My grandma is confused about my gay relationship; she very much does not think it is gay or straight. Anyone who knows I'm a trans man does not think of me as a woman or a man; they think of me as something entirely outside of the binary, and they treat me accordingly.

To go back to the tag you're quoting: I think binary trans people using binary pronouns are degendered for the exact same reason that nonbinary using gender-neutral pronouns are misgendered. People don't want to recognize us as the genders we are. They don't want to validate an experience of gender that lies outside their tidy little gender binary.

Again: this doesn't mean that exorsexism isn't real, or even that "there is no such thing as a binary trans woman/man". That's not what I'm saying. I want to keep having discussions about the unique experiences nonbinary people have, and the unique ways in which transphobic society treats and targets them, and the unique oppression they suffer, and why, and how we can fight that.

I also don't think I'm the first person by far to point out that maybe the idea of The Binary Trans Experience should be problematized a little bit, and I think there's something to be said for the funky space that "binary trans people" occupy on the good-little-gender-conforming-cis-person to nonbinary continuum.

[di-42]

May's Magnificent Fictions

First off let me share with you a little side note, because the brain wants what the brain wants. After an inner struggle I've finally decided to settle on using the noun "fiction" as countable when referring to works of fanfiction. I will stick to this. It has been bothering me.

And now for something completely enjoyable, let me present to you the lovely fics I've been lucky enough to read in May. I't's been a busy, at times stressful month and I haven't had the chance to read as many as I would have liked. I only made a tiny dent in my Marked for later list, which keeps growing and isn't it wonderful? I still have so much beauty, creativity and bliss to look forward to.

I'll try and tag the writers whose tumblr username I know, so they know how loved they are.

WIPs:

The first two WIPs of this list have made me realise that my new favourite trope is the "they never met" one. Or it might just be that both writers are incredibly good!

My Heart Was Always Yours by @addledmongoose

I love this fic and the author's other work so much that sometimes I worry the writer might think I'm stalking them or something! (I'm not! I promise! I only kind of start staring at my phone around 6pm on a Friday night UK time waiting for an update, that's all!). Anyway. like I was saying, in this fiction Aziraphale and Crowley never met until present day and, at the beginning of the story, neither of them knows the other is an angel or a demon. They have both been tasked by their respective head offices to retrieve Raphael's trumpet so Armageddon can start and they both want to find it and destroy it. So they embark on a journey together, thinking that the other is human. This story is so good. It has an incredibly well thought out plot, the characterisation of both, Aziraphale and Crowley are spot on, their interactions are funny and witty but also deep and very sweet. But the point that's dearest to me is that it shows the character of Aziraphale the respect it deserves, which sadly happens less often than it should. The way the writer describe the building of their relationship and their trust will fill your heart with warmth. The stoty has alternate Aziraphale and Crowley POVs and it's narrated in the first person, which will read funny at first but it will flow within the first couple of chapters and it will have been worth it!

This fiction is updated officially every Saturday but if you're very lucky and depending where you are in the world it might be Friday. Only a few more weeks to go, though, it's almost complete and I'll miss it (But I'll re-read it!) Rated M.

The Last Angel by @bellisima-writes

This is another excellent "they never met" story. In this universe, Crowley and Aziraphale were stationed on earth, Armageddon happened, and Hell won the war. All the angels have been killed, except one. This story only has the first 6 chapters out, but you can already see the wonderful job the author has done of thinking how Aziraphale and Crowley would be without having ever met each other, what would be the same and what would be different. And the same goes for other characters, too: so far we've had an insight of how Beelzebub is like in a different universe and hints at how other characters would behave as well. It is full of promise, it sets expectations that I'm hoping will be subverted and the writer is doing such an excellent job with it all. Please go and show this story some love, you won't regret it!

This fiction is updated weekly, definitely every Friday, but I understand from now on every Wednesday and Friday. Rated M.

The Escort by VinyamaDN @vinyama-23

Human AU where Crowley is an escort and Aziraphale hires him for a date. They start getting to know each other and the rest is history. This story touches very delicate subjects, but it's also funny and fluffy. Please read the tags. Rated E.

Whickber Street by Caedmon @caedmonfaith

Lovely human AU where Aziraphale has a bookshop in Whickber Street and Crowley opens a comic book shop on the same road. It's a slow burn, from one-enemy-to-lovers story, full of humour, charm and fluff. Featuring all the shopkeepers in Whickber Street, which is a treat! Update every Monday and Thursday without fail. Rated E.

Complete works:

And Now All Of My Garden Is Grown In Lavender by ilikeblue

I'm so grateful to my lovely mutual and penpal @dashuntsel for recommending this great human AU. Aziraphale is a successful queer romance author whose books are being adapted for TV. At the start of his career, his agent, Gabriel, insisted he claims to be married in order to gain more readers. Now that the spotlight is on him, Aziraphale needs someone to play the part of his husband. Did I mention that Crowley is Aziraphale's gardener and friend? I'm sure you know where this is going. This story has a little angst and lots of good vibes of trust, friendship, love and loyalty. And a happy ending! Rated E.

Lit by @fellshish

Fellshish is one of my favourite fiction writers and this piece doesn't disappoint. Making people laugh is much more difficult than making people cry and fellshish succeeds in the task so effortlessly! (They can also make you laugh while wanting to cry, but for that you'll have to read their other stories. This one is angst-free). Time-wise this story can be collocated after season 1 and is not canon compliant with season 2. Crowley enrolls in a literature course without realising it was a fantasy literature course. The book that will be read this semester is "Good Omens - The Nice And Accurate Prophecies Of Agnes Nutter, Witch". And the class will get to meet the author, Neil Gaiman. This book seems to describe only too well the event leading to the failed Armageddon, including things that only Aziraphale and Crowley would know. How is that possible? And what would happen if it fell on heavenly or hellish wrong hands? And, oh Satan, did someone say TV adaptation?? A truly amazing, funny piece that will make you feel better after a hard day at work. Rated Teen and up.

Gate Duty by Ginger_cat @gingiekittycat

Not really a crossover, but a Good Omens fiction with elements of The Good Place. You can absolutely read it and enjoy it if you haven't seen The Good Place. placed in time post season 1. Aziraphale is called back to heaven to Gate Duty and he's decided to go despite Crowley's protest. Crowley has Beelzebub assign him to Gate Duty as well, so they don't have to spend 300 years apart. So they set to out to judge the souls and decide whether to send them to the good place or the bad place, as they have rebranded heaven and hell. In the process they meet a few souls that you might or might not know, not the focus of the story. This fiction manages to be funny and incredibly angsty at the same time and it was incredible to see how some of the details in it would resonate with season 2, which wasn't out at the time the fic was written. Rated E.

Of Size And Other Matters by LCwrites

Lovely from strangers to lovers, fake relationship human AU. Aziraphale needs a date to accompany him to an event hosted by his brother, Gabriel. Crowley receives a text from a stranger, clearly by mistake, but why not having some fun? I really like the dynamics between them, the ease and the trust. A tiny bit of angsty pining but quickly and happily resolved. Rated E.

One shot:

Not Nice by Sad_chaos_goblin @sad-chaos-goblin

Great one shot that follows the wall slamming scene!What would have happened if the former nun hadn't interrupted their "Intimate moment"? This fic is a treat, sweet and hot and fluffy all at the same time. Rated E.

[amourtoken]

someone requested some iv content so here's some lil blurby stuff cause I cannot create a full length fic for the life of me lol I'm sorry bb. This isn't structured rlly it's just a collection of my random thoughts off the dome while thinking abt him so lmk if you want me to elaborate on anything.

*nsfw below the cut, MDNI*

cw: petplay, sex toys, raw sex (pls wrap that shit), mentions of choking, breeding, subspace, phone sex, mirror sex, threesomes, DP, oral

◇ he's so-

◇ when you first got together, iv was much more reserved but as the group gained some traction and more opportunities presented themselves the the boys, he can't help himself he let the fame get a *little* to his head. He's become much more outgoing in many ways and he knowssss he's fine at this point. He will use this fact against you cause he knows how easy it is to melt you from the inside out so you're a pliant little toy in his hands.

◇ he's always been so sweet to you. Constantly bringing you flowers with sweet notes or forcefully making time in his schedule so he can see his sweet girl and give her the attention she deserves. He knows it could be tough being with someone who has to keep their personal life on the low but he makes up for it 100%.

◇ he swears up and down he's not *trying* to come off this way but he's tiptoeing the line of being your sugar daddy lol. If you so much as even mention something you want in passing, it's in your hands within the next day at most. After a little, this extended from things *you* said you wanted, to things *he* wants to give you. This includes the sluttiest lingerie you've ever laid eyes on, jewelry with his name on it, and countless sex toys he pleads for you to use on camera so he can rewatch while he's out on tour.

◇ he's head over heels for you, and absolutely *cannot* get enough. Your smell, your taste, your touch, all of it. He'd inject you into his veins if possible. Even while fucking you, one angle isn't enough. iv has strategically aligned a couple mirrors so he gets all the best views of you no matter what position he's manipulated you into and ugh it makes his head spin sometimes. You deserve to be in a museum but he can't help himself but to be a lil rough with you on occasion.

◇ knows how to get into your head and all up under your skin, on multiple occasions he's slid behind you while you're getting ready in the mirror and rested his head on your shoulder just to whisper the filthiest things imaginable in your ear. He'll wrap his arms around your waist or run his hands up and down your torso, sliding down to your thighs and tugging the hem of your dress up little by little while detailing just how pretty he think you are in it in a low voice. Sometimes he'll slide one hand up and gently squeeze your throat, leaning your head back onto his shoulder while he's touching you. He makes a whole ordeal of it and most often, you end up right back in bed.

◇ he's got lots of sweet little pet names for you. Love is absolutely his favorite but sweet girl, pretty thing, sweetheart, all perfect. He's not big on degradation *however*, he did get you the prettiest engraved collar with a cute little tag reading "slut" in his handwriting.

◇ bouncing directly off that, man's into some petplay. Loves knowing you're all his and wrapped right around his finger. The physical manifestation of this is him wrapping your leash around his hand and tugging when you break eye contact while he's fucking you like he hates you (he doesn't but the way he bullies your poor insides, it sure feels like it.) He's got you a collection of pretty collars with his name on them, and adores having you sat at his feet at any given chance. He'll also literally pet you, fingers lovingly brushing your skin or running through your hair absent-mindedly but ugh it feels so fucking good, what's not to enjoy about having his hands on you? Throws you right into a comfy subspace.

◇ I think all of the ST Boys are in this boat but God if he doesn't get lightheaded at the thought of breeding you. He'll grab your hips and pull you to meet his deep thrusts while your head hangs over the edge of the bed, watching the scene from the full length mirror beside you. He gets off on the fact not only is it the *ultimate* claim on you, but thanks to his mirror fixation, he gets to watch the whole thing and know it's the exact moment he knocked you up. You're already perfect in his eyes but once you're all round and pretty, he *really* won't be able to keep his hands off of you. It'll only serve to make him more possessive as well, that's his baby carrying his actual baby, he'll be damned if anything happens to you or you're not treated like a piece of fine china.

◇ he's very possessive of you like I said, *but* if one of the other boys wanna join...he'll consider. By consider I mean he'll hold you on his lap, arms hooked under your legs and holding them open while iii eats you out like he's starved. Your head is leaned back on his shoulder and he's praising you for being so good for both of them, he'll also direct some praise to iii for treating you so well. As long as he's ultimately the one pulling the strings and directing the scene, he's in his element. Fucking you from behind while Vessel's down your throat or leaving countless dark hickeys and love bites all over your neck and chest while he and ii fill both of your holes. You're his, doesn't matter if they get a taste cause he's the one you belong to.

[feroluce]

So I mentioned in the tags of this post about Sampo's character design the other day that looking at his splash art made me realize something sneaky about the bg and oh my god I thought I already couldn't possibly love him any more than I already do but this might just prove me wrong JAKSLFJKDLASJFK

So this is maybe? old news by now but I remember when Sampo was first leaked to be in Penacony, some fans were excited saying that it must be Penacony shown in his splash art, and not Belobog. And tbh I was trying to avoid story leaks, so I just kinda ignored it and didn't think about it any further...until I was looking at it to look at his chains.

But I think it IS Belobog shown here because if you look closely, you can see what looks to be a pile of snow in the bg, and even some on the rooftop! And snow isn't present on Penacony.

There's also the huge moon shown behind Sampo. And we never get to see the Belobogian night sky, but even in the hours that are locked in permanent nighttime, Penacony noticably lacks a moon. The buildings all look like they match Belobog architecture, too.

This one is a bit more questionable tbh, but. There's also this long horizontal structure in the bg-

-which I'm not 100% sure what it even is, but it doesn't look like any specific part of Penacony. But it DOES look like the official art of Belobog (everyone say thank you to @the-astral-express-archive for these pics; dude you're a lifesaver orz)

And if you will notice. The only place up high enough to look down on those structures,

the only thing taller than all the rest of the buildings in Belobog,

is the one establishment set dead center; Qlipoth Fort.

Which means this little asshole is shamelessly, gleefully breaking into the most important government building on the whole planet right in his splash art KFJLJSADKLFJKLDSJ

[markantonys]

What is your ideal Gawyn show intro?

tick tock, it's gawynposting o'clock!!! i love being enabled, thank you :')

okay, so here's what i'm thinking. 3x01 focuses on catching up with our established characters and setting up the main storylines for the season. 3x02 is time for our caemlyn crew to make their grand entrance; the episode title seems to be "a question of crimson" (though this isn't guaranteed) which would be perfect for an andor & elaida intro episode.

3x02 cold open. scene: caemlyn palace nursery 20 years ago. baby elayne (there was allegedly a baby needed on the caemlyn palace set) is snoozing in her cradle with a nurse (lini cameo!) keeping an eye on her. 10ish-year-old galad is there playing with toddler gawyn. elaida enters the room and takes gawyn over to elayne's cradle and explains to him what it means to be her first prince of the sword, then makes him swear the oath we famously hear about in the books, the oath he swore over her cradle when he was just barely tall enough to look into it, "my blood shed before hers, my life given before hers". the audience goes "wow! this is a pretty fucked up thing to do to this 2-year-old" and thus we learn something about both gawyn (was psychologically fucked up at age 2 by being taught to see himself as a tool to protect other, more important people) and elaida (cares a lot about protecting the royal house of andor and has no problem psychologically fucking up 2-year-olds to do it). and there can be other stuff in the scene to tell us a bit about galad and morgase maybe, depending on how big of a role they're going to have in s3.

this is where i would put the opening credits IF I HAD THEM. (hashtag bring back the opening credits in every episode not just the finale you cowards.) now we go to present-day caemlyn, where the fam is discussing their worries that elayne is missing. gawyn in particular is upset about it and is blaming himself (and being blamed by elaida, and maybe even morgase makes some queenly Harsh But Fair remarks), and the audience goes "yep, sure enough, that 2-year-old has grown up to have Issues." and thus, right away, we've been given a point of connection with and sympathy for gawyn as well as an important insight into why he is Like That. this toddlerhood oath-swearing scene is buried in his narration in the books and i think a lot of people miss it or miss its importance, but it is THE formative moment for his character and the key to understanding why he is Like That, and i'd die if it was portrayed directly onscreen via flashback cold open.

meanwhile, elayne, nynaeve, and mat have set off for tanchico from falme, but the rest of the gang is headed for caemlyn (either as a stop on the way to the waste, or as their intended final destination but shenanigans later force them to flee and only then do they decide to go to the waste). perrin goes out and about in the city and hears rumors of trouble in the two rivers, setting him up to branch off from the group by the end of 3x02. egwene heads to the palace, having been tasked by elayne to deliver a letter to her family assuring them she's well, and rand tags along.

but the guards won't let these two hooligans in, so instead they go around back and break in over the garden wall, falling off the wall at gawyn's feet and setting off the biggest bi crisis of his life. egwene has a whole flirty meetcute with a handsome prince while rand, with whom she officially broke up in 3x01, has to bear witness to the whole thing (and this shows the audience that egwene is also moving on, thus soothing them about rand getting new love interests this season), but gawyn is friendly to rand too and defends both of them from galad's bitch ass and all the guards galad tattles on them to.

rand and egwene are hauled off to an audience with morgase and elaida, and gawyn defends them again but obediently shuts up when morgase and elaida tell him to (showing us that he has a good heart but is easily influenced by authority figures, especially elaida - seeing that gawyn tends to obey elaida is a surprise tool to help us later). whole tense convo here where egwene and rand both get to meet their mutual future mother-in-law as well as their mutual future kidnapper, and egwene delivers the letter but then elaida has her ominous foretelling of rand, which calls his and egwene's integrity and thus the veracity of the letter into question. morgase lets them go (against elaida's advice) but doesn't trust the letter (at elaida's advice) and continues to worry for elayne's safety. so, elaida sets off for the white tower to get answers, with gawyn in tow because, as we learned at the very start of the episode, protecting elayne is quite literally his life.

there we have it! a gawyn intro that sets up a ton of important stuff for him (his oaths to elayne, the way he ties his self-worth to his ability to protect people he deems more important than him, his fucked-up mentor/mentee relationship with elaida, his crush on egwene, his friends-to-onesided-homoerotic-rivals arc with rand, his relationships with morgase and galad), gets the audience to understand and sympathize with and maybe even feel fond of him right off the bat, AND doesn't violate any of the handful of tidbits we know about s3 so far. a win-win-win!

this is my ideal version. but there's a couple other possibilities, such as a) we meet gawyn in caemlyn, but rand & co don't go there, so gawyn does not meet egwene until a future season, or b) elaida and morgase have a one-on-one convo in caemlyn (both actresses were leaked to have been on that set, but no word on if the brothers were there) and gawyn isn't introduced until a later scene arriving at the white tower with elaida (and so doesn't meet egwene until a future season).

i'm leaving galad out of the white tower trip for now because i remember musing a while back how it could actually be more effective if it's an elaida-gawyn duo and galad stays home with morgase. both women are important to both brothers' stories, but elaida is more important to gawyn and morgase is more important to galad. gawyn can be alone with elaida doing all the coup stuff, and galad can be with morgase watching her start behaving strangely, not understanding why, and starting to turn to the whitecloaks (because he blames the aes sedai for elayne's disappearance, because he's afraid morgase is losing her grip and starting to do andor harm, and maybe because morgase was compelled to treat him cruelly and kick him out a la bryne* in the books and he feels he has nowhere else to turn to). gawyn/elaida/tower + galad/morgase/whitecloaks feels like two logical groupings, and in that regard keeping galad in caemlyn could allow for more efficient storytelling than sending him to tar valon. and the galad/morgase/whitecloaks storyline could be held until s4, leaving galad and morgase as just 1ish-episode characters in s3, or it could be another s3 subplot if they want to speed things along. there's also a chance galad could already be a whitecloak and is in the two rivers storyline with dain, but i would prefer that not be the case because my opinion is it's important to his character for us to see him start normal and then get radicalized into the whitecloaks. plus, galad has SO little content in the books that the show is absolutely fine to stretch his stuff out a bit, they don't need to rush to have him already be a whitecloak at the start of s3.

*i've also made these theories with bryne being cut, since i have elaida take his place in gawyn's oath-swearing and galad take his place as the big bridge burned by compelled!morgase. i have no idea whether he actually WILL be cut or not (though i'm 99% confident his romance with siuan is off the table even if he's in), but he feels like a character where it's easy to divvy their stuff up among other more important characters. mat and bashere have us covered for Great Generals, thom has us covered as morgase's ex with whom things ended badly, and egwene could get soldiers from another source (or could even have her army simply be aes sedai and warders).

[neon-junkie]

In the Heat of the Moment - Chpt.8

Summary: “Less than ten percent of domesticated species go into heats,” accord to Tech and his research, and (un)fortunately, you’re one of that ten percent. What else are you meant to do? Trapped during a heat cycle with five men - five willing men who are happy to help relieve you, but not all have the confidence to say so.

Relationship: The Bad Batch x fem!Reader (she/her)

Tags: Heats, Mating, Sex pollen, Friends with benefits, Friends to lovers, Slow burn, Sex, Jealousy, Pining, Tags to be added.

Word count: 1.2k

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 9]

Chapter 8 - Scorching

"So, you… haven't been taking them?"

Hunter's voice throws you off guard, causing you to drop your tool with a clank!

Is there really any need to discuss this right now? The repairs are almost complete, and you can all finally leave this forsaken planet with its two cursed suns! However, your Sergeant, the one that has been avoiding you for weeks, now feels the need to address the Bantha in the room… or in this case, the desert.

You turn to look at him, barely a meter from you; his eyes flicker between his work, and your dazed expression. "You mean the supplements?" you question.

"Yeah," Hunter confirms with a light shrug of his shoulders.

"Nah, I haven't," you shrug back, and pick up your tool, returning to your work. It's not really his business, is it? There's no need to be nosey about such a thing.

A moment of silence becomes present, the sound of tools tinkering away fills up the void, yet you can feel the pulse of adrenaline rushing through your veins. You're getting defensive, and for good reasons.

"Why not?" Hunter finally quirks up, not bothering to look your way. It seems he isn't letting this go, is he?

"Didn't want to," you simply reply, matching his monotone demeanour. It doesn't take a Jedi to pick up on Hunter's sarkiness. Why he's bothered is beyond you, but if he can freely ask, then so can you! "Is that a problem?" you follow up.

"It has been, yes," Hunter confirms, finally looking your way as he continues working. "I won't deny that I find your… scent rather distracting, especially during missions."

"We're always on missions," you point out. Even if you aren't physically in action, you're either heading to your next target, or unwinding from the last one. Better yet, you're making amends from your previous one, and they can't come fast enough.

"Exactly. How am I meant to work with… that?" Hunter dares to comment. Now, work is no longer your priority. The tool in your hand becomes motionless as all of your attention turns to your Sergeant, whose defensive expression matches your own.

"I'm sorry that my biological needs are such a distraction to you," you snap. "Maybe if you followed your training better, then you'd be able to ignore my scent."

"And maybe if you'd taken the supplements like I originally asked, then I wouldn't have to put up with your scent, nor the sounds of you kriffing all of my squad!"

The nerve! The audacity!

The tool in your hand hits the sand with a soft thud, and you rest your hands on your hips, chest puffed out. It's just a smell, something that Hunter can easily ignore, but it seems his true intentions are coming to light. "I haven't slept with all of your brothers," you say with a mindless shrug, not that it's any of his business. Jealously really isn't a good look for him.

"Most of them," Hunter barks back.

"It's not my fault that they offered to help me out. I'd rather do that, then pop some mystery pills that you shoved into my hand! I don't even know where you purchased them from!"

Hunter's lips purse in annoyance as he takes a step closer towards you, attempting to one-up your stance. The sweat above his brow is clearly visible, possibly from frustration, or the blazing Tatooine heat. It doesn't help that he's chosen to work shirtless, his toned chest almost pushed into your face as he looks down at you, tanned and covered in a soft trail of hair. There is no need for him to be this close, and the more that he gets into your face, the more irate you become.

Hunter goes to open his mouth, but you beat him to it. "Get your boobs out of my face," you say as you swat his chest, taking a step back away from him. "If you want to help me out, then this isn't the way to approach it."

"I…" Hunter sputters, crossing his arms across his chest in some lousy attempt to cover up. "This isn't what I'm trying to do-"

"-Then what is it?" you interrupt him again. "Because it's pretty obvious that you want to 'help me out', rather than giving me those supplements," you shout, using your fingers to flex quotation marks. This is probably some elaborate scheme just to sleep with you, although you weren't expecting Hunter of all people to stoop that low.

Hunter's lips fall silent as his eyes refuse to meet yours. His furrowed brows fail to relax, as does his jaw, clenched firmly as his patience continues to run thin. He sucks in a deep breath whilst pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Seconds pass, and you're waiting for him to burst, but when he finally speaks, he's as calm as ever.

"Finish up. The ship should be ready to depart."

And with that, Hunter leaves you to it, entering the Marauder. You can overhear him talking to Tech, muttering something about getting the engine running.

Now, it's your turn to suck in a deep breath, and attempt to steady your thumping heart. You've never argued with any of your boys, much less your Sergeant. A light squabble here and there, but never full-on arguing.

You almost feel… guilty, although you had every right to defend yourself! No matter.

As your eyes open, you're greeted by someone who is only going to fuel your fire. Crosshair is leaning against the Marauder's entranceway, arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin on his lips. He chuckles as you scowl at him.

"Not going to give Sarge a chance?"

"Kriff off."

Crosshair chuckles once more, and watches as you pick up your discarded tool, using it to secure the Ship's side panel into place. He allows you to finish before speaking up, instantly turning your concentrated expression sour.

"You know, hate sex is awfully pleasant," Crosshair states. Whether he's hinting at himself, or Hunter, is beyond you. Probably both, knowing Crosshair.

All you can do is barge past him, your shoulders clashing with force. "What's with you?" you scowl, meeting his gaze for a brief moment.

"I'm only pushing your buttons, Princess," Crosshair shrugs as he allows you to pass, keeping his stance despite wobbling from your aggressive gesture.

Not wanting to allow yourself to become even more angry, you don't bother responding, and instead head straight to your room. The repairs are somewhat done, and Tech is already firing up the engines. It's time to leave. Whether this ship will make it off this planet is beyond you, but right now, all you need is some space.

It's time for you to take a breather, and isolate yourself for a while.