#I can’t fucking do this. I can’t do anything. I can’t even be responsible for myself

[paranoiddreams]

Somno, cnc?, voyeurism💪🏻, Satoru is a SICK FUCK for this

A/n!! - tbh, I just wrote this when I was high asf and the words came out on their own, and it might not even make sense. Idk what demon took over, but here, I hope you FREAKS enjoy this🤭

You’re just trying to take a nap on the couch while the tv plays episode after episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race—that literally all you’re trying to do. But once the sounds of soft grunts, and a shadow over your eyes, breaks through your sleeping state, you slowly wake up to see your roommate standing in front of you on the couch.

He’s not only standing though—he’s standing with his pants on the other side of the room, and his hand stroking his leaky cock furiously.

“Satoru?!” You grumble, coming back to awareness as shock floods through you. What exactly are you seeing right now? You’d ask yourself if you walked in on something you’re not supposed to see but…you didn’t walk in on anything. In fact, Satoru is the one who walked you into this situation.

“Fuck—finally, you’re awake…”

Satoru’s voice is husky, his breath’s coming out as heavy pants while he fucks his tight fist. Your eyes flicker down to his large hand, eyes widening when you see his even larger cock.

“Satoru!” You scream again, this time louder. “What the hell?!”

You try to hide your face in the pillow you were just peacefully snoozing on, but you suddenly feel fingers tangle in your hair and tug your head back, forcing you to look at the sight in front of you again.

“No, don’t be a baby,” Satoru pants, an amused smirk on his face showing off his pearly white canines, “look at me.”

Your gaze drifts back down, almost forcibly, to Satoru’s hand around his hard cock. He slows his strokes when your eyes widen, hissing softly.

“Fuck,” he moans, almost whimpers, “do you know how long I’ve been edging? Can’t even go a few minutes without stopping ‘cause I feel like I’m gonna cum already.”

You feel nearly all of your blood rush to your cheeks at his admission, even more so at the tone of his whiny voice.

“What-I-why??” You stutter, still wondering if this is some strange, sick dream.

The fingers in your hair tighten, lifting your face slightly to force your eyes on his.

“Why? Why what? Why am I stroking my dick, or why am I going to cum so quick?” He laughs, amused by your obviously flustered and confused state.

“Why all of it?!”

Satoru just huffs out a breath, rolling his eyes as if the answer was obvious. “You think you can just lay on my couch and sleep looking like that and I won’t react?”

Your heart is pounding violently, threatening to burst through your ribcage and out your chest. How someone could justify jerking off in front of someone else by simply saying they look attractive when they sleep is beyond you, but despite the horror and humiliation still running through your body, you can’t ignore the ache between your legs now.

Satoru seems to take notice to your flushed response, but instead of a witty remark, he lets out a soft moan, moving his hand over the leaking tip of his cock; he’s about to cum, and you can tell, especially by the way his fingers are tightening in your hair, but you somehow can’t find it in yourself to do anything by stare at his face contorted in blinding pleasure.

Then, before you can even process how fucking absurd this is, you feel something warm grace the flushed skin of your cheeks. You look down to see Satoru’s fist covered in the pearlescent aftermath of his voyeurism, like a shining trophy at the end of a race. His eyes are widened as he looks at what just happened—the evidence is all over your face anyways. Clarity hits him, and he feels a wave of embarrassment flood his body.

But at the same time, the realization makes his cock harden in his sticky hand again.

You just look too pretty like this, all surprised and questioning how this happened; but what makes him even more excited is the obvious signs that he’s not the only one enjoying this…

[mulloey]

unwelcome • pt 2

read part one here

stepdad!mingyu x fem!reader

words: 3.8k

warnings: this is pretty fucked up. stepfather relationship, infidelity, mingyu n u are not good people rly, brat/brat tamer dynamics, mean hard dom!mingyu, daddy kink, dirty talk, punishment, pussy slapping, gyu refers to you as ‘daughter’ and himself as ‘father’ in a sexual context a couple times, not really dubcon but there’s certainly a power imbalance, breeding, pregnancy mention, heavy degradation, choking etc. this is pretty intense.

you’ve been appropriately warned of the content of this fic and are solely responsible for what you consume. don’t like, don’t read. hate is blocked.

-

it’s been a week since the incident in the kitchen— since mingyu had finally snapped, since you felt his firm hands and long fingers restraining and touching you as he pleased. since the event that you thought would have changed everything with your stepfather. except it hasn’t.

mingyu has said nothing about what transpired that day, and neither have you. you tried to, once, but a hand around your neck and whispered warning that “that wasn’t what you thought it was” had shut you down quickly. he’s still strict, but it’s from a distance now— he doesn’t scold or reprimand you, but nor does he praise or really interact with you in any way. you never thought you would, but you miss it. you miss him.

your mother is gone, again. she seems to have picked up on the energy shift in the house over the past week and, like you, doesn’t seem to know what to do with it. so she’s chosen to stay away, assuming that whatever’s going on will resolve itself as it always does. you had hoped it would too— except mingyu won’t let you get near him.

today you’ve been mulling it over; holed up in your room with your blanket around your shoulders. you’d gone down earlier to grab a piece of toast; you’d felt your stepfather’s eyes on you the whole time you were in the kitchen, but you paid him no mind, grabbing your toast and quickly retreating back upstairs without a word. you wish you hadn’t heard his sigh of relief when you walked away.

you can’t live like this anymore, you know that. whatever thick, immobilizing tension is separating you two, pulling at one and pushing at the other, needs to break. and you will break it, even if just to have back the annoying, obnoxious man you used to hate. it’s better than… whatever this is.

you discuss it at length with your best friend, pearl, over drinks at your favourite bar downtown. she’s the only one you could turn to with something like this— the only one you can trust not to judge you. not that you don’t deserve to be judged; you’ve done an awful thing, after all. you’ve allowed your mother’s husband to touch and finger you. you’ve not just helped him to betray your mother, but you’ve betrayed her yourself.

you’re past that now, though. you’ll make it up to her later. and if mingyu’s willing to do that to his own step daughter then clearly he’s not the right man for your mom anyway. it doesn’t make you feel a whole lot better.

but pearl doesn’t judge you; she never does. you’ve known each other since you were babies, for one, but more importantly, she has (to your annoyance), been saying from the start how utterly delectable your new stepfather is. if anything, she’s probably annoyed she didn’t get to fuck him first.

she listens silently and thoughtfully as you run her through the events of last week, tapping her manicured nails against the wood of the table. by the time you finish, a sly, knowing smile has reached her face.

“isn’t it obvious?” she asks.

you hesitate, confused. “isn’t what obvious?”

“what you need to do,” she says. “to fix this.”

“not to me,” you say. “i mean, i need to fuck him, i think. but i can’t do that when he barely even talks to me now.”

she shrugs, twirling the little cocktail umbrella between her fingers. “so make him jealous.”

“what?”

“piss him off, y/n,” she says. “bring someone home and let him see that you’re moving on. i guarantee you he won’t like it.”

you slump back in your seat, thinking for a moment. it’s a good plan— if it goes right. if it goes wrong, well… you doubt anything could be worse than this. “okay,” you say. “i’ll do that.”

it takes two more days to find the nerve to bring home a boy from your campus. you were careful to choose someone you wouldn’t have to interact with after today if it all went catastrophically wrong, which means the TA in your thesis group who makes eyes at you from across the room is off the table (sorry, wonwoo), but who you’ve seen and interacted with enough that it won’t seem weird when you invite them home with you.

you have no real intentions with joshua, but he’s nice enough, around your age and very horny, so you figure he’ll do fine; indeed, he can barely keep his hands off you as you walk into the house and accidentally-on-purpose make your presence known with a loud laugh. his wandering hands only leave you when your stepfather rounds the corner into the lobby.

he’s dressed in his pyjamas still, and he looks tired and irritated until he spots the boy next to you— and the non-existent, certainly non-platonic gap between you. in an instant he’s awake and the irritation is gone, replaced with anger. his palms twitch at his side, desperate to break the calm demeanor that he’s hanging onto by a thread. little slut.

“what’s going on here?” he asks. he tries to keep his voice cool and leveled but the resulting sound is low and dangerous, like a predator about to strike.

joshua swallows and you feel him tensing up nervously beside you. whether it’s to calm him down or to provoke mingyu further, you're not sure, but you grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. joshua relaxes slightly, and mingyu’s eyes narrow.

“hi,” joshua finally says. “i’m jo–”

“i don’t give a rat's ass who you are,” mingyu says sharply. “tell me what you’re doing here and what your hands are doing on my daughter, now.”

joshua’s eyes widen and he seems to shrink further into himself, wishing he was anywhere else. “look, man,” he says, “i don’t want any trouble. we were just gonna hang out.”

“yeah?” mingyu asks. “not anymore. plans changed, i’m afraid. we’re busy this evening.”

“oh yeah?” you challenge. “busy with what?”

mingyu says nothing, just raises a cool eyebrow at you with a blank expression. you feel joshua’s gaze flicker between the two of you in confusion and discomfort.

clearly, he wants nothing to do with this. you don’t blame him; and he’s served his purpose anyway. you’ll make it up to him another day. buy him a coffee or something. doesn’t really matter right now.

“i’m just gonna go,” he mutters. he catches your eye as he walks past, face contorted half in sympathy and half in fear— fear for you, it seems. if only he knew that you’re halfway to getting exactly what you wanted.

“see you around, josh,” you say, but your eyes are already locked with your stepfather.

the door slams shut and he’s on you instantly, hand on your neck as you’re shoved harshly against the wall. the impact is so sharp and sudden that it sends the small painting hung up next to you crashing down, but neither of you notice; not when you’re looking at him with such lust and he’s looking at you with such ire. you could cut the tension between you with a knife, but even then, you’re not sure if it would break. the tiny gap between his face and yours and the heavy breathing as he looks you up and down is electrifying like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

“min—”

“shut up,” he says. “i’ve had it with you.” his voice is almost shaking with rage and he stares at you for a moment before his large hand impacts the side of your face. you shriek in pain and surprise, reaching to clutch your stinging cheek but he grabs your wrist with the hand that had just slapped you, holding it firmly above your head.

“fucking slut,” he says. “parading your little boy toy through my house as if i wouldn’t know what you’re doing. debasing yourself like a cheap whore. is that what you thought i wanted?”

your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. you both know the answer but you don’t want to say it. he shakes his head, chuckling dryly.

“no, it’s not,” he says. “because you never cared or even thought about what i might want. only ever thought about yourself, didn’t you?”

you feel yourself shrink under his gaze and the venom of his words and he smiles briefly. his eyes roam your body, lingering on your chest that rises and falls with your heavy, panicked breathing. fuck, he’s practically drunk on the power he has over you right now.

his grip on your neck tightens momentarily— just enough to remind you of how small and breakable you are under his grip. “too fucking cock drunk to think about anything else,” he says lowly. “fuck. i should‘ve made your friend stay so i could fuck you in front of him, shouldn’t i? teach you both a lesson.”

his words hit you in the stomach, knots of arousal twisting in your gut. you know he sees the way your thighs clench together at the image. “i…” you trail off; you have nothing to say. he knows it too. he lifts his hand from your neck to stroke your cheek with a surprising tenderness.

“pretty thing,” he mutters. “my little girl.” he’s silent for a moment, eyes raking over your face, so small and fragile in his strong hands. his grip tightens, squeezing your jaw. “apologise,” he says.

you frown, confused. “for what?”

he snorts like it’s obvious. “provoking me, for one,” he says. “using that poor boy to get a rise out of me. and being a rude, bratty little girl simply because i wasn’t giving you enough attention.”

you roll your eyes before you can think it through and he’s quick to react, his hand slapping you again before returning to your neck. “no respect,” he mutters. “you obviously need an attitude adjustment. and that’s exactly what daddy’s gonna give you.”

you bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning at the name he’s given himself, but it’s no use. your stepfather is far too tuned in, far too in control, to let anything slip past him. his lips curl into a thin, sneering smile. “liked that, did you?” he asks. “you like being fucked by your fucking father?”

“mingyu,” you whine. your face burns at the humiliation of not just his words, but the truth of them— mingyu is your stepfather. he’s married to your mother. and you’d do anything to have your hands on his dick right now.

“no,” he says. “you don’t get to call me that. if you could act like a mature fucking adult then maybe i’d let you but you can’t, can you? you’ve been a little fucking brat since i met you and it’s about time i treated you like one.”

there’s a fire in his eyes you haven’t seen since that day in the kitchen, only now it burns both brighter and darker than before. as he finally releases his grip of you against the wall, only to drag you by the hair through to the living room, you get the feeling you’re about to see mingyu in a way even the episode in the kitchen couldn’t have clued you into.

he shoves you down, watching you stumble to the floor with a surprised shriek. you sit yourself up, leaning on your hands as you stare up at him where he towers above you— tall, imposing, and terrifying.

he’s silent, watching you closely before he sighs and walks over to sit himself down on the couch. “come here.”

your legs are shaking as you struggle to pull yourself up from the floor. his jaw twitches, fists clenching. you’ve never looked so pathetic, never felt so humiliated and you still have all your clothes on. he reaches out to pull you towards him and you stumble forwards until you land on his lap— over his lap. you feel your short skirt flip up over your ass from the sudden motion, exposing your black lace panties. he chuckles, grabbing one of your ass cheeks and squeezing it firmly. your breath hitches.

“mm,” hums appreciatively. “this is how i like to see you, daughter mine. bent over and ready to submit.”

you squirm, thighs clenching at the low timbre of his voice; the deepening of it as he calls you his daughter. jesus. this is so fucked up.

his finger trails the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your pussy. he fingers at the hem of your panties, right next to your pussy, watching the way you react to his touch as he teases the edge of your underwear like he’s inspecting it. he sees the wetness seeping through the black fabric and chuckles. “that desperate, baby?” he asks.

you say nothing, still processing the situation you find yourself in and he slaps your ass harshly, making you jolt. “answer,” he says darkly. “or i’ll just spank you and send you to bed without release. is that what you want, little girl?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head fervently. you won’t deny it; the idea of being spanked by mingyu, not for sex, not for foreplay, but solely for punishment, is embarrassingly tantalising. but you’ve been waiting too long to have him touch you like this again and if you don’t get to feel his dick inside you tonight you might actually go insane. “no, i don’t,” you say.

he laughs, pinching the sensitive skin of your thigh and rubbing the red mark soothingly. “look at you,” he chuckles. “so bratty and disrespectful but so quick to submit once i use a bit of force. can’t believe i wasted my time on your mother when i had this little kitten here waiting for me.”

his words are like cold water as they wash over you— your mother. this isn’t just your stepfather— this is your mother’s husband. this is the man she loves and relies on, who swore to be hers for the rest of his life. and you’re bent over his lap and trying desperately not to grind against his thick, strong thigh. you’re the worst daughter ever.

and if you weren’t before, you certainly are when you mewl out a desperate, “please, daddy, fuck me.”

“hm,” he says. “such good manners, i’m almost tempted.” his finger trails along your panties before finally sliding over your covered pussy. you gasp, squirming again when he ghosts over your clit. he presses down a little, enough to make you pulse slightly, then lets go. “what a shame you had to be such a brat.”

you make a noise of confusion, craning your head around to see mingyu sliding your panties down to your ankles, exposing you fully to him with your skirt by now halfway up your back. you catch his gaze and he raises an eyebrow. “turn around,” he says. “i’m gonna teach you how to fucking act around me.”

swallowing, you obey, turning around to bury your head in the pillows of the couch. you feel him raise the thigh you’re bent over, giving him easier access. you close your eyes, bracing for the first hit against your ass. you’re ready for it, you think— what you’re not ready for, is for him to suddenly tilt you forwards and start slapping your pussy instead.

the first strike makes you shriek and he gives you no time to recover before continuing. your pussy is far more sensitive than your ass, not to mention dripping, but he hits you with the same brute strength he’d used on your ass and face. the pain is white hot and searing and you hear the impact of each slap; and the wet, squelching sound of his hand against fluid gushing from you. strings of cream are connecting to his hand, following it each time he pulls away to wind up for another hit. you feel him hardening beneath you and adjust yourself a little without realising, trying to grind against his cock subconsciously. he grabs your waist to tug you back into place and delivers an extra hard swat right on your clit.

it’s so painful and so arousing that you don’t even notice when it’s over. not until he’s pulled you off his lap and pressed his leaking cock against his entrance do you finally realise what’s happening. he’s going to fuck you. finally.

he leans over where you’ve found yourself on all fours on the couch, lips pressing against your ear. “ask me to fuck you, baby,” he whispers. you gasp as he rubs himself against you and he chuckles. “c’mon, filthy girl. ask me nicely.”

“p-please,” you stutter. all your nerves are on fire and pushing against your skin, senses heightened as he slowly starts to push into you. “more,” he groans.

“daddy,” you gasp. his hands are on your waist as he guides himself into you, moaning at the way you sob his name. “fuck,” he grunts.

when he finally gets in all the way it’s overwhelming; mingyu is huge, beyond huge, and you’ve never been this full before. you feel him pressing against your cervix even without moving yet there’s none of the pain or discomfort that someone of his size would usually bring. it feels right. like you were made to take him and he was made to take you.

he starts moving without a word; slow thrusts that get faster and harder until he’s completely pounding you, fucking into you desperately like a wild animal. he sounds like one, too; you both do, yelling and grunting as you pushing yourselves deeper into the other. his grip on your waist is bruising but comfortable and you sink into it, lost in pleasure.

you chant his name on repeat — “daddy, daddy, daddy” — the only word that comes to you as he fucks you open. he leans over you, pressing his face into the back of your neck and kissing down the top of your back before straightening up again, angling himself to go deeper.

“you love this, don’t you?” he spits. “love being whored out by your stepfather. is that why you moved back home? to make yourself available to me?”

you groan at his words, clenching around him. you both know that’s not true, but it may as well be— you certainly won’t be moving back out again anytime soon now. you want to stay with him, be available for him— a waiting hole for him to use. fuck, you're depraved, but so is he; he groans when you say it out loud, thrusting harder. “that’s right,” he grunts. “just a hole f’me. just a fuck toy for your daddy, yeah?”

you choke, crying out when he slams into you again. you reach your arms back, trying to touch him and he grabs them, folding them against your back and holding you down.

“i knew it,” he laughs. “knew from the moment i met you that you just needed some dick. knew it had to be mine, fuck.”

“yes,” you gasp. “yours, yours, gyu, has to be yours.” you’re babbling and delirious now and he’s fucking high on it. he presses more of his weight onto you, trapping you beneath him— as if you’d ever want to get away.

“good girl,” he whispers. “i’m gonna fuck you every fucking day. every time that bitch leaves the house you’re gonna come and fucking present yourself to me, understand? gonna come offer up your holes to daddy.”

“yes,” you whine. “always, daddy.”

“i’m never fucking your mother again,” he says. “i’ve got this perfect little pussy now instead and it’s all mine.”

by now the sensations of his dick slamming into you have become a constant rhythm, allowing you to cling to it as you go dumber and dumber on his cock. you could stay like this forever; split open and abused while he spits filth into your ear; but you can tell from the clenching of your pussy and the throbbing of his cock that you’re both close to the edge. he grunts, grabbing your hair to pull your head backwards and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “good girl,” he says, movements speeding up. “i’m gonna cum in you. gonna put a fucking kid in you. you want that?”

you know mingyu knows you’re on birth control; he’s seen the pills you keep in the medicine cabinet and heard you discuss your prescription with your mother. but fuck, the idea of him getting you pregnant, your own stepfather knocking you up, is so twisted and exhilarating that it propels you towards your orgasm. you feel yourself releasing over his dick, drenching the couch and he makes a noise of delight. “didn’t know you squirted, baby,” he moans. “that’s so fucking perfect, god.”

“daddy,” you moan. “mingyu.” you’ve gone limp on his dick now, fucked out and exhausted but you’re smart enough to recognise that this stops when he’s finished. he’s almost there, though, you can tell; his grip on your tightens, moans getting louder until he spits out a “clench, slut,” and releases into you the moment you obey.

he collapses on top of you once he’s done, face pressed into your back. you’re both filthy; covered in sweat and cum and drool but you don’t care. you’ve never felt so satisfied in your fucking life.

mingyu pulls you into his arms and you relax into his hold, breathing deeply against his chest. it’s perfect peace, utter bliss— while it lasts. minutes later he jumps up, looking panicked.

you stare up at him in confusion. “mingyu?”

“your mother’s coming back,” he says. your stomach drops. “in 30 fucking minutes.”

panic takes over and you force yourself to your feet; it’s dizzying and disorients you for a moment, but mingyu is quick to catch you when you stumble, helping you steady yourself before he releases you. mercifully, most of the mess is on the two of you; the couch is pretty much clean. mingyu orders you into the shower and you obey, scrubbing away all the evidence of what you’ve just done. you hear him run past your room a few minutes later, and when you emerge, you’re both clean and in your pyjama. only the way he looks at you as you walk downstairs together gives away what’s happened.

your mother looks tired when she walks through the door, but smiles sweetly when she spots her husband and daughter waiting in the kitchen for her. she plants a long, wet kiss on mingyu’s lips and you feel your stomach twist in envy. looking away, you turn back to see his eyes on you, dark and scrutinising as your mother sits down at the table.

“how are my loves?” she asks. you smile weakly at her, wracked with guilt but at the same time wishing she would just get the fuck out so you can fuck her husband again.

mingyu puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it fondly, but his eyes never leave you as he speaks.

“we’re perfect.”

-

requests open! feedback, reblogs and comments are appreciated. love🖤🖤🖤

taglist open!

[keikikait]

ʙᴀʙʏ ʙʟᴜᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.8k

summary: you're just one of his many conquests, so why does he need you?

warnings: ANGST, friends with benefits, mild yearning/pining, rafe cannot handle his emotions, ward mention, slight jealous!reader, not proofread

a note: idk if i ate. i'm sorry that it's a little short. :( also, my stalker!rafe fic needs SERIOUS work, so i decided to upload this instead. i am very unhappy with it.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Sometimes you think you aren’t meant to be loved. 

It’s almost comical, the way you just sit there and take it. The way you let him walk all over you, taking bites out of you just to toss you aside for later. He cut off slices of you when he needed, never taking the full thing. Always little samples, just to keep you hooked. He would chew you up and spit you out, and you would always come crawling back.

You watch as Rafe dresses himself, eyes landing on his ass as he pulls up his boxers. He always dresses so quickly, not even handing you a towel as he paces around your room, gathering his things. At first, you thought he just didn’t like your apartment. You were a Pogue, after all, even though you were lucky enough to move to a nicer area of The Cut. You spent a lot of time redecorating, trying to make it a little bit nicer. A little bit cleaner. Anything to get him to stay.

Your apartment was small. Cozy. Quaint. 

It reeks of you. And that’s why Rafe won’t stay.

Rafe turns around, catching your eye. He can’t help the small smile that stretches across his lips as he pulls his jeans on. “Admiring the view?”

“For as long as I can.” You say.

Your response surprises him, and his eyes widen just slightly. He stares for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact. “You’re too sweet for your own good.” He mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his socks on.

“I wish you would stay.” You mumble, aching to reach out and touch him. But you don’t.

“I know you do,” Rafe sighs, tying his shoes on. “But I can’t, sweetheart. You know that.”

“I do.” Your voice is soft.

“So why do you keep asking me to stay?” It comes out angrier than he intended. But maybe you needed that.

“I…” You swallow hard. “I don’t know.”

“My answers always no. Why do you keep askin’?” Rafe stands, grabbing his wallet and keys off of the bedside table. “Shit’s starting to piss me off.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, sitting up, holding the duvet to your chest. You feel like you’re always telling him that. 

“Quit being sorry. Just stop fucking asking it,” He turns to face you. “Jesus. It’s not that hard.”

You don’t know what to say. You nod, looking down.

Rafe sighs, running a hand through his hair. He can’t deny, he loves when you look like that. Sad. Vulnerable. It drives him wild. His gaze lands on your neck, bruised and marked by his teeth. Possession looks good on you, He often thinks. 

But that was it. He could only take so much of your submission. He couldn’t take you asking him to stay, too.

“I won’t ask again.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, still avoiding his gaze.

His jaw tightens and he stares at you. He wants to take you and claim you. To show you were his, and only his. But he didn’t want to keep you. Why would he? “Good.” Rafe walks around the bed and stands in front of you. He reaches out, grabbing your chin and forcing it up. “And look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You nod, looking up at him, mascara still smeared on your under eyes. 

Rafe studies your face. God, you always looked so beautiful like this. Broken and upset. The sight had him wanting to take and claim you all over again. But the look of submission in your eyes makes him want to push you even more. “You look pretty like this.” He murmurs, pushing your neck to the side and looking at the hickeys on your neck. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.” You say, although you don’t like it. You didn’t like this version of you, the pathetic girl who would do anything and everything for one iota of his attention; but it got him into your arms, so that’s really all that matters.

“I wonder why that is? Why you look so pretty when you’re crying?” His fingers lightly trace over your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. He knows that it doesn’t matter whether you like it or not. You were addicted to him, craving his attention more than you craved anything else. You’d take whatever he gave you. That was the only thing Rafe loved about you.

“Because my lips get all pouty, and my eyes get all red?” You guess, resisting the urge to lean into his palm.

Rafe almost laughs at your answer. It was cute. “Hmm,” He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently brushing them. “Yeah, probably.” His eyes meet yours, staring at your face. You were so easy to break. So easy to control. You’d let him do whatever he wanted, no fight or protest. Just endless submission. It was addicting.

You’re getting restless. “Have any plans today?”

Rafe’s hand falls from your face, and his jaw tightens. You always did this. You always try to make small talk, try to create some type of emotional connection between you, even though you knew deep down that he didn't give a shit about you or about your day. “Yeah. I do.” He picks his jacket up from the bed. “Have to go visit my dad's lawyer. Then I’m meeting some friends.”

“That sounds fun,” You say, although meeting with Ward’s lawyer must have something to do with life insurance. “Uh, being with your friends later, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He mutters, shrugging his jacket on. He grabs his keys from the bedside table and glances at you. It’s hard, watching you try to connect to him. He knows that you want more than this. You want to be his girlfriend. You want the world to know you’re his. 

But that couldn’t happen. And you knew that.

“Are you, um…” You shift on the bed, the duvet falling just a little bit. “Are you gonna come back over tonight?”

Rafe glances at you, eyes falling to the duvet. God, he loved how you were always trying to keep him around. He loved watching you try and fail to keep his attention. He lets out a deep breath, running a hand over his buzzed head. “Do you want me to?” He already knows your answer.

“Only if you want to,” You say, trying to not come across as even clingier than you already are. “You know my door’s always open for you.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. You were always so predictable. So needy. So willing. He starts to wonder when he'll get sick of it. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He grunts, picking his phone up off of the bedside table and shoving it in his pocket. “I don’t know yet. Might be with Sofia tonight.”

Your soft smile drops, just for a second, and you hope Rafe doesn’t notice.

Sofia.

Sofia?

Who the hell is Sofia?

You knew everyone he hung out with. Every girl. You had tabs on all of them, shamefully. You didn’t know who the hell Sofia was. Had you missed someone? How had she managed to slip through the cracks?

Under the covers, you dig your nails into your thigh. You had to act casual, as normal as you could be. You were always treading thin ice with him, and you couldn’t risk losing him over this. Your smile returns and you give him a nod. “Cool. Just text me.”

Rafe watches as your smile falters for a moment. He knows it. He knows that you’re jealous. There was no way that you weren't. It didn’t take much to make you jealous. He could make one passing comment about a girl, and you’d spend the rest of the day worrying, wondering who she was. That's why he brought up Sofia, and why he always mentions his other girls to you. Something about the idea of you laying in bed, terrified and anxious to lose him, really excited him.

He smirks as you quickly regain composure, knowing that he got to you. “Yeah. I’ll text you.” He says, turning to leave.

“Drive safe.” You say.

He stops as he stands in the doorway. Something about you telling him to drive safe always made him… feel guilty. It was that damn softness you always had and used against him. He glances at you over his shoulder, swallowing whatever sentiment he was feeling. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

���── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You hate Sofia.

After a bit of sleuthing, logged into one of your many burner accounts, you finally find her. She’s a Pogue, like you, and for some reason you find that it stings more. She’s gorgeous, absolutely beautiful, the sweetest girl around, and you fucking hate her.

Rafe had a roster. A rotation, the same few girls on repeat until he got bored, where he would swap a few out for fresh meat. You don’t know how you managed to stay on the roster for this long, but you weren’t complaining. Maybe Rafe thought you had another guy out there, filling your cunt and your bed when he was gone, but you didn’t. You’re too busy being Rafe’s to fall for somebody new.

You used to not care about the other girls. The more and more he mentioned them, though, you got curious. You started looking them up on Instagram, stalking their profile through burners and analysing every post. Every story. None of the girls ever looked like you. None of the girls were like you at all. Why did he like them, and why did he like you?

You wonder if he treats the other girls as poorly, or if in some twisted way, you’re special. You could handle being the only girl that Rafe treated like shit if that meant you stood out to him in some way. You wonder if he fills their necks with hickies, too, if he grips their hips too hard and leaves bruises, if he spanks them until his handprints form welts on your ass cheeks.

You hoped to God you were special.

You tried to distract yourself, running errands and tidying your apartment, but you kept thinking about him. About his stupid baby blue eyes, and his stupid pretty face, and his stupid hands and the way they felt around your neck. You didn’t want to be in love with Rafe fucking Cameron, but you feared you were already in too deep, and soon you would drown, falling below the surface, hand outstretched, hoping just this once that he would pull you up.

You sit on your bed, in the dark and the silence, staring at your phone, waiting for it to light up. Waiting for him to text you, to need you.

The hours pass. Midnight. One and two. Three. Before four o'clock rolls around, you still have nothing. You know that you should just give up and go to bed. He probably passed out at his friends’ place, too drunk and too tired to text you, but you keep telling yourself that he's just busy. That he's gonna wake up any moment now and shoot you a text. 

You're praying that something happens, that something keeps you up and keeps you waiting for those messages that you know he most likely won't send. You want him to finally fucking want you in the way that you want him. You didn’t like feeling this way, it wasn’t fun to constantly torture yourself, but is it not fun to feel many other ways? If it wasn’t Rafe, it would just be someone else. Another man, someone else’s son, reminding you that no matter how hard you try, you just aren’t meant to be loved.

Why don’t you do it for him? Why aren’t you enough to get him to stay?

You tap the screen, and it lights up. No new notifications.

“Shit.” You mumble, your hand retreating to your side.

You sigh and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Of course, he isn’t going to text you. Why would he? Why would he do that to you, when he never had before? This is exactly what you expected. This is exactly what he loves. Making you doubt, getting you jealous. It gets him off. It’s a game for him. You were his prey, and he was your predator. 

As you lay, staring at your ceiling, you hear three, quick knocks on your door.

At first, you think you’ve imagined them. You sit up, your feet sliding into your slippers as you pad into the living room. You stand there in silence, in the dark, only listening to your own breathing. You’re about to turn around when there’s another knock, this time loud and pounding against your door.

You cross the rest of the room, undoing the locks and opening the door.

Standing on your doorstep, of course, was Rafe, hands in his pockets as he stares you down. He seems… tired. He had dark circles under his eyes, probably from staying out late. He glances at you from behind those tired eyes, his gaze falling over your body. He’s taking note of the oversized t shirt you’re wearing, and how your hair is dishevelled and messier than it was before. He could tell you had been lying down. “Can I come in?”

Something's off, you can tell. He’s acting different, even though it’s just subtly. You watch him as he chews on his lip, an anxious habit he didn’t think you noticed. “What’s wrong?”

Rafe’s expression falters for a split second, before he quickly regains his composure. He was fine. Nothing was wrong. Except for the fact that you asked him that. He looks over you. “Nothing,” He responds, his voice harsh and biting. “I just wanted to see you. That’s all.”

You don’t believe him. He normally carries himself with intense confidence and gravitas, so much so it constantly inks into your lungs and chokes you, but this was different. He felt different. “Right.”

He swallows hard, shifting on his feet. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way you were looking at him. Concerned, like you cared. He glances away from you, sighing. “Can I come in?” He repeats his question, eyes flicking between you and your living room.

You nod, stepping aside and holding the door opening, flicking a light switch. One of your lamps turns on, casting a warm, soft glow over your living room.

Rafe strides into your apartment, immediately heading for your couch. Everything in your place was so damn cozy; the warm light, the soft couch, your scent lingering on every single inch of every single surface. He collapses back onto the couch, arms spread out and legs splayed. He runs a hand over his face, swallowing hard.

You sit next to him, and for a while, you two sit in a comfortable silence. You look over at him, pushing some hair behind your ears. Your voice is soft when you finally speak. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Rafe closes his eyes, sighing as you speak. He didn’t want to tell you about Ward. Not when you were like this, so gentle and caring. He was exhausted, to say the least. He was dealing with so much, all at once, and he didn't know what to do. Finally, he looks at you. In this lighting, with your hair messy and your eyes concerned, you looked even more like the sweet girl he always wished you were. Sweet and caring and loving. “Today was my dad's funeral.”

Your shoulders droop, and your eyes soften. You had no idea. He had only mentioned visiting his father’s lawyer to you yesterday morning. “Shit, I’m sorry, Rafe. I’m so sorry.”

Rafe almost groans. He loved you when you were soft, when you were sweet. He loved it more than he cared to admit, but right now he hated it. He hated it when you were this caring. It made him doubt everything. He glances at you, a lump in his throat. He hated when you looked at him that way. Because he knew that no matter what he did, you would always have that warmth in your eyes when you looked at him. You would always forgive him, no matter what he did.

Part of him wishes his dad could’ve met you.

You reach out and put your hand on his shoulder, trying not to overstep. Rafe stares down at your hand, so small in comparison to his shoulder. Something about it makes his chest tighten. It seems intimate, and he feels… safe. Safe with you. Which is a feeling he hasn't felt in God knows how long. 

His hand slowly lifts, his rough fingers wrapping around your wrist. He brings your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. Your thumb brushes over his cheek gently, back and forth.

God, the feeling of you touching him, comforting him, was too much. Your touch was too gentle and warm, and he hated that he wanted it. He hated the way his chest ached at the sight of your soft, kind expression. He had so many reasons he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be letting you touch him like this, and yet there was something inside of him, a small voice in the back of his mind, constantly begging him to please let you take care of him. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course.” You say softly. 

Rafe glances at you, eyes flicking between your hand and your face. God, he hated this. Your touch on his face, the tenderness in your voice, the look in your eyes. It was driving him absolutely insane. His eyes close, as if he was debating if he actually wanted to ask you this. “Am I poison? Am I poison in the water?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

He opens his eyes again, hand still holding yours to his cheek. He holds your gaze, eyes softening. He hated how vulnerable he was, and yet there was a small piece of him, buried deep inside, that needed it. He could tell you anything right now, and you wouldn't judge him. You would just listen. Care. “Do I… poison everything I touch? Am I the poison that kills everything?”

“No, of course not,” You move closer to him on the couch. “Why would you ask that?”

God, he could smell you, your perfume a subtle, sweet scent that was driving him crazy. He closes his eyes as you move closer, and his jaw tightens. This was insane; he wasn't weak, he wasn't vulnerable, he did not need you. But then again, the hand on yours on his face had yet to move. “Because,” his voice drops to a whisper. “I know that I'm a sick, twisted bastard. I know that I make others sick. I hurt everyone I care about.”

“Rafe, I will admit you aren’t exactly the nicest guy,” You swallow roughly, unsure of what to even say. “But you still have people that care about you. Your friends, your sisters. They know the real Rafe, the guy underneath all the aggression.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath. God, he hated this. He hated being vulnerable. He hated opening up to you, and seeing that look of concern in your eyes. He wants to run, to close you out, leave and forget this ever happened. He wants to go back to treating you like one of his conquests, instead of feeling like he wanted you to hold him. But for some reason, his mouth wasn't listening to his brain. “But what about you?”

“Of course, I care about you,” You say. “I thought that would at least be obvious.”

He had a thousand different replies on the tip of his tongue, but instead his mouth just opened and closed, words dying when they left his lips. Everything in his mind was screaming at him to get up and leave, but there was a deeper part of him, a small piece of himself that he kept buried inside, deep in the back of his mind, that kept whispering, telling him to sit. It was the part that kept his hand on your wrist. He swallows hard, looking away. “I wish my dad was still here.”

“I know,” You say softly. “I’m sorry.”

He felt his eyes begin to sting, something that only added to his frustration. Frustration at himself, for being pathetic enough to cry. Frustration at you, for making him weak enough to cry. Frustration at Ward, for leaving him and his sisters behind. He suddenly hated everything. He hated you. He hated himself. He hated Ward for leaving him with feelings, making him weak. “I don't even know why I came here,” He mutters through gritted teeth. “I just... I wish I could've been good enough for him. I tried to be good.”

“You don’t know how Ward truly felt about you, Rafe.” You say, stroking his cheekbone again.

He hated the way you were comforting him, hated the way you were so gentle with him. He was always on the defensive, on the attack, so when someone was soft with him... Well, the way his chest ached was proof that it was something he wasn't used to. He swallows hard, closing his eyes. “But I do. His actions spoke louder than his damn words ever did,” He chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It's so stupid, you know, I... I used to pray I’d be like him, do everything that he did. And sometimes I still do.”

“That’s not stupid.” You say.

He lets his hand fall from your wrist, shaking his head. He hated talking about this, he hated admitting how much Ward’s death has messed him up. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to open up to anybody. The words leaving his lips, however, were not his own. “I hate that I don’t know if he was proud of me... I hate that I’ll never know if I did right by him.”

You remove your hand when he goes to cover his face. You watch him for a few moments, unsure of what to do, when you notice his shoulders shake. 

Is he crying?

Your eyes widen when you hear a sob rip through him, shoulders shaking up and down. “Hey, hey, Rafe, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

He hated crying, absolutely hated it, but there he was, shoulders trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried. “I’m not even- I…” His voice breaks, chest rattling. He lets out a long, shaky breath, shaking his head as he wipes away the tears from his cheeks. He couldn’t even look at you. He hated feeling so weak. Hated that you were seeing this side of him.

“It’s okay,” You put your arm around him, trying to hug him. “It’s okay--”

Rafe suddenly stands, pushing you back. “No. Don’t… don’t fucking pretend like you care.” He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, ashamed that he let Ward affect him this much. He was supposed to be strong. Powerful. Not weak.

“I’m not pretending.” You say, standing up.

His jaw tightens, his expression hardening into a sharp glare. God, he was tired of you, of your sweet words, of your gentle smiles. It was messing with his head, playing with his feelings. “Yeah, right.” He mutters, shaking his head. “You don’t care, don’t bullshit me.”

“Of course I care about you, Rafe,” You say, taking a step closer to him. “I… I lov--”

“No!” He suddenly snaps at you. He didn't want to hear that. He couldn't. “Don’t… don’t you dare,” You stare at him, confusion on your pretty little face, and it’s driving him fucking crazy. “Don’t. Don’t tell me. Keep that shit to yourself.”

You don’t know what to say, and you don’t want to upset him even more. You just nod, taking a step back.

He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something. He hated the sight of that look on your face. The confusion, the worry, the disappointment. He didn’t understand. Why did you care? He didn’t deserve it, not one bit. What the hell did you think you’d get out of loving someone like him? That he’d love you back? That he’d change for you?

The silence is deafening. You want to say something, you just don’t know what. You take a shaky breath. “I’m here for you, Rafe. You know that. In any way you need me.”

“Why?” He asks suddenly, eyes meeting yours. “Why are you still here for me? Why do you care about me so goddamn much? Why can’t you just give up on me, like everyone else has?”

“Do I look like everyone else?” You ask.

Oh, but that was the problem. You were different. You were the only person in that damn town who was as sweet as you were patient. Who cared so god-damn much about someone so undeserving of that love. “Don’t you think I know that?” He asks, voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t you think it pisses me off that you are the way you are?”

“I just want you to be happy, Rafe, and if I can make you happy, I want to.” You say.

Why did you have to be so goddamn sweet? It was driving him mad, the way you stood there, so willing and eager to do whatever it took to help him. He let out a long, shaky breath, staring down at you. “It was different when you were just some girl I was hooking up with.” He says, shaking his head.

“I’m still that girl,” You insist. “Nothing has to change. We can go back to normal. Forget this ever happened.”

His eyes narrow as you speak. He hated that you said that, hated how willing you were to forget the fact that he cried in front of you, and yet he hated himself for the fact that he almost wanted to agree. “Really?” He asks, his voice sharp. “You’d just… forget this? Go back to letting me use you, like nothing happened?”

“If that’s what you want.” You say.

He hated the idea of that. The idea of going back to using you. Of treating you like trash when he knew that you cared so damn much. 

Part of him liked hurting you, like watching you fall apart at his hands. But it was the other side of him that hated how good it felt at first, hated the pit of shame in his chest that grew each time you begged him to stay, or cried while he left, or looked at him like he meant the world to you.

Part of him knew you deserved better.

Rafe sighs, looking away. “Fine. We forget about this.”

“Okay.” You say, nodding.

The fact that you didn't say anything, that you didn't fight back, made his chest ache. God, he hated this. He wanted to yell at you. Wanted to push you down, pin you to the couch, and make you cry out his name. He wanted you to ask him to stay, fight him to prove to him that you cared. He hated how your willingness to forget it all made him want to wrap his arms around you. He couldn't stay. He would do something risky, something that he would regret in the morning. He sniffles, wiping his eyes again. “I'm gonna go.”

You swallow thickly. “If you’re sure. My door is always open.”

“Yeah,” He replies, his voice hoarse. He hated that your gentleness, your sweetness, still managed to get to him. He steps closer to you. He wanted to touch you again. To feel your warm, soft skin against his palm. But he knew better. He knew that if he touched you, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. “Thanks for being there.” He mumbles, his voice cracking.

“Of course.” You smile softly.

He hates how your smile makes his chest ache, hates the tug it gives his heart. He hated how he cared about you, hated how he was so weak that he allowed himself to open up to you. And God, he hated how he was thinking about kissing your pretty, pouty lips. “I'll be back tomorrow night. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Rafe nods, licking his lips. He rocks back and forth on his feet before reaching out and cupping the back of your head, pressing his lips to your forehead. Enough to keep you hooked. “See you later, sweetheart.”

Your entire body is buzzing. “Drive safe.”

You’re still standing in the same spot when he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

And you will wait for the next time he wants you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

blagh

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[trickbxbes]

okay, hear me out.. dae-ho nsfw hcs, in particular him with a reader who is into pain play, bdsm and all that jazz?

love your work btw!

So I can’t see Dae-Ho agreeing to hurt you at all, but I’ll try to work around that 🫡

𝐃𝐚𝐞-𝐇𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐒/𝐎 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐃𝐒𝐌 (𝟏𝟖+)

Warnings: NSFW, Switch! Dae-Ho, hickeys, edging, pretty much what the title implies,

The first time you brought up to Dae-Ho about experimenting, he was curious and trying to be brave. He wanted you to always feel good of course. But when you got into detail, he was a little taken back. “Pain…play? That’s a thing?”

He’d be uncomfortable inflicting pain. Especially if it involves hitting or drawing blood. He just, can’t. He’d get a little sad just thinking about it. He’s had a very negative history with violence, and wouldn’t want to put that on his beloved.

But he wouldn’t want to disappoint you either, so he’d try with the other aspects of BDSM!

He’d start by being rougher with you. His normal nips and kisses on the neck turning into dark hickeys. He’d soon realize that seeing you all marked up was actually incredibly arousing. Like you actually belonged to him.

^ You’d claw at his shoulder blades as he ruthlessly sucked on the sweet spot on your neck. “D..Dae-Ho..” and in response, he’d cover your mouth. You didn’t think you could get any wetter, but alas.

At first he wasn’t sure what to expect when you bring in the handcuffs, blindfold and gag. Things that wouldn’t cause you direct harm, but experiment with the idea of teasing to a new level. But once he had you there, listening to the way your wrists fought against its restraints, he didn’t mind. It meant you needed him.

^ His face was in between your thighs, lapping up all your juices. You were a whimpering mess, gaged and cuffed to the bed frame. Dae-Ho looked up at you a second, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes. “Are you still alright, (Y,n)?” Oh how you wanted to scream at him for stopping. But that’s what kept the gag on. You squirmed, whining desperately, trying to rut your hips into his face. Dae-Ho chuckled, shaking his head. He puts both hands on your thighs and pushes you down onto the bed again. “Patience, otherwise I’ll have to punish you, right?”

He’d try choking you if you really asked. He’d never do it hard enough where your face would change a color. But while he was fucking you senseless, his hand around your throat, he’d hear how animalistic your moans were. The differential desperation compared to your normal fucking.

Of course, after everything, he’d kiss every bruise, tend to you, check on you, and cuddle close.

BONUS!!

Now when you had convinced Dae-Ho to let you take the reins, he was more than a little worried. He did agree though, but you knew you had to ease into it.

You had his wrists tied to the bed frame with some lacy ribbon, soft to prevent any pain. You and him established a safe word, “Octopus.” You started off kissing down his body, slowly but surely. It wasn’t too different to when you were normally in charge, but this time, Dae-Ho couldn’t touch you. It took away a lot of his control. But you couldn’t help but notice the way his dick hardened even faster than normal at his helplessness.

Eventually, you moved to jerking and sucking him off while he was unable to do anything but feel. His senses were heightened thanks to the blindfold around his eyes. “(Y,n)~!” He mewled, his back arching. You giggle, licking his tip before pumping his base while speaking to him. “Hm? What is it, Dae-Ho?” You smirk at his whimpering self. Dae-Ho could barely get the words out. “G-gonna…mmph…! Gonna—“ And with that warning, you stop. Dae-Ho lets out an exasperated groan of desperation. “(Y,n)! P-please…! Please let me cum… (Y,n)!” He babbled your name like you were some sort of messiah, begging the same words like a prayer. His cock was throbbing hard in your hand, his hips thrusting upwards slightly.

He’d never admit it to you, but he loved being edged.

You caress his cock with your thumb, smirking. The gag was still an option, but you didn’t use it because, cmon, listen to him. “Mm, I dunno, will you be good for me?”

Dae-Ho nods frantically. “Yes~ yes…yes, yes yes. I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be a good boy, your good boy, so fuck… please…!”

How could you say no to that?

[aj-norizz]

Let Me Entertain You- Charles Leclerc x reader

Where the teammate girlfriend of Charles Leclerc thinks the new FIA swearing ban is awful. And when Charles crashes she decides to show the FIA how much she cares

Warnings: use of y/n, swearing (duh), Charles crashing

Drop a message to be on the tag list and please follow, like or repost guys ❤️

Back to Masterlist!

“Hey mon amour,” Charles piped up as you drove together, your hand unconsciously stroking Leo’s golden fur.

“Yes darling?” you replied.

“Have you seen the new swearing rule?”

“Of course i have…everybody on social media has been tagging me in it for the irony…”

“Are you going to abide by it?”

“You goody two shoes darling…am i fuck.”

“Point proven i suppose.”

“Ricky where’s Charles?” your name crackled statically through the radio.

“Second right now Y/N, pushing Max for first.”

“How far am i from Max?”

“Around 5 seconds. You’re too far to push for first but you should be able to hold third unless we need you to defend Charles’ second place.”

You sigh.

You were always used as a ploy for the constructors bid and Charles’ championship challenge.

Despite the fact the man was the love of your life you couldn’t help but know that even you had better chances of winning the championship this season then your boyfriend.

“All heard Ricky…”

You kept battling lap after lap.

You weren’t sure why Ricky had said you couldn’t push for first, there was still around 30 laps to go. You knew deep down inside though.

Ferrari and good team strategies didn’t mix well.

As you were racing past the main straight you noticed something glistening.

“Ricky…there’s some debris on the main straight…they need to stop the race before somebody runs it over.”

“Noted. We’ll see what we can do.”

It wasn’t long before you found yourself on the main straight, staring at the front mirror.

“Ricky! For fucks sake when is the debris being moved? It’s a fucking front mirror as soon as that’s run over it destroys tires!”

There was no response for two minutes.

“Y/N the FIA have given you a penalty for foul and abusive language.”

What the fuck.

You switched your radio off with no intention to turn it on until the end of the race.

That was until you heard of a problem coming through from Ricky.

“What’s going on?!”

“Leclerc’s ran over the debris.”

“Charles…fuck’s sake…”

And then Ricky went deadly silent. Never a good sign.

“Ricky?”

“Y/N you can’t freak out.”

Your heart dropped.

You’d only ever been told that when you had found out Toro Rosso were dropping you.

And fine you had met Charles and become happier than you ever were with Horner but still, those words were never good.

Especially because they were so condescending.

“What is it?”

“Yellow flags, slow down.”

You instinctively slowed down as you passed by the area seeing a car fully in the barriers.

A red car.

“What the fuck! Ricky is that Charles?”

“Y/N-“

“Is it Charles?!”

“Yes…”

“Why are they not stopping the fucking race?!”

“Don’t do anything irrational.”

That was her last straw.

“Red flag! Red flag! Leclerc’s car is on fire!”

AJ parked up- not caring where she was. She saw the RedBull of Max Verstappen do the same ahead of her and the McLaren of Lando Norris behind her slowly grind to a halt.

The flames were blinding.

The 19 drivers all stood together on the grass, Lewis listening to coverage to try and hear the latest.

“From what we can hear the flames are tame and are only in the back of Leclerc’s car…but here’s the question. Where are the marshals and where are the FIA?”

You stood in silence.

“Max you know where the FIA office is the best…i need to pay a visit after the race.”

“Are you sure?-“

“Franco you’re so innocent man…” Max laughed. “AJ is more or less the reason the fucking stupid swearing ban got put in.”

“Oh shit!” Carlos yelled.

The fire had spread- engulfing the whole car.

No.

No.

Your first instinct was to lunge.

To rush to Charles’ car.

But Max’s grip was too hard to escape.

“Maxie! Max! Let me go! Let me go!” you screamed- a mixture of agony and annoyance coating your voice.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”

And that’s when the FIA finally arrived.

Charles was pulled out of the car and that’s when Max let you go.

“Charles! Charlie!” you called out, hoping for some sort of response.

Silence.

You tried to follow the medial car but an FIA superior stopped her.

The fucking audacity.

You couldn’t wait for that media pen

You were waiting in the media pen when the first interviewer walked over with a slight smile.

“Miss Y/L/N. How do you feel about your penalty for swearing and the new introduction of the rule?”

“It’s fucking bullshit. This isn’t fucking Disney Channel- we are grown adults. If they’re so worried about us swearing in life or death situations then maybe they should invest more into the kids channel.”

“I see…and how is the team feeling about Charles’ crash?”

“We’re quite worried…i’m hoping to get all my media buries wrapped up quick enough so that i can go and see him wherever he is…hopefully the team will announce a statement as soon as we know…” you answered, a slight smile appearing on your face as you knew the interviewer had a script to follow but was also being as respectful as an interviewer can get.

“Well i won’t hold you for much longer…but any final message for the FIA?”

“If you think this new little rule will stop me from swearing then you can suck my hairy cock.”

The interviewer choked as you smirked and flaunted off- ready to see your boyfriend.

Charles laughed as you explained to him what had happened in the media pen as he slowly sat up in his hospital bed.

“You are crazy mon amour.”

“Crazy in love.”

“You are so corny.”

“That’s what you love about me,” you quipped with a smile.

“Who am i to deny that?”

“I was so worried Charlie…” you whispered as you softly rested your forehead against his.

“Oh mon amour…”

“I know Charlie…”

“Know?”

“I know you’re scared of the fire…”

You smirked as you walked into paddock, the media eagerly awaiting your arrival.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Over here!”

“A minute please!”

You just skipped past into the Ferrari garage.

Ricky smirked. “What a little performance you put on him?”

“I did do GCSE drama.”

“Grade 9?”

“Grade 8 actually but i was robbed-“

“The FIA are furious.”

“Let them be.”

She noticed the Netflix cameras zooming in on her and Ricky’s conversation especially after Charles wandered over, his arms engulfing your shoulders as he kissed your hair from behind.

“What are you going to do mon amour?”

“I’ll let them complain.”

Ricky laughed- a proper laugh.

“They want a statement.”

“A statement?” Charles echoed in confusion.

“I’ll give them a statement,” AJ laughed. “FIA, let me entertain you.”

“Yes?”

“If you stop my swearing i’ll stop my driving…i’m not 16 anymore…stop treating me like one.”

Charles smiled in pride.

“If they want to treat me like a child i’ll drive like a child.”

“Come on you two!” Fred called out, rushing them to get into the cats for quali.

AJ smiled as Charles wrapped his arm around you.

“Ready to put on a show mon cheri?”

“I’m always ready to entertain.”

[hailtheaeon]

WAH WAH

“I don’t need no wah-wah”

Content warnings: angst, heartbreak, frustration, self deprecating thoughts, doubting oneself, kissing, handjobs, nipple play.

Special thanks to @hailthegodsong you’ve been so sweet and kind helping me out on this together. ILY.

You never felt too good in crowds, or with people around. The anxiousness bubbled up in your gut, and sometimes, it could even get to a point where you’d vomit. It was embarrassing really, your best friend could socialize perfectly well. He could dance and flirt and sing and laugh with about anyone, charming everyone in his path while he cleared a line for himself. He was like some sort of sun god, there was a glow about him, he was electric. Electric gold.

And, of course, he managed to sweep you up too. Immediately rushing over to you and plopping down in the seat next to you before getting up clumsily and asking you if he could sit there. You silently nodded, immediately feeling disdain rise inside you. But, when he grinned that perfectly white wide tooth grin, and pulled a perfectly sharpened pencil from his pocket to hand to you, you immediately were smitten. You were convinced no one could hate him.

So, even if you didn’t want to, you accompanied him to a friend’s birthday party, a friend you didn’t know. And you couldn’t help but be shocked when he grabbed your hand firmly and yanked you out of the house, eyes wide, breathing heavy, hands shaky and cold with sweat. You’d never seen him this affected by anything?

His eyes pleaded with you to go, like how so often you’d do the same. And even if you’d wanted to leave from the beginning, you couldn’t help but feel so confused. He absolutely loved parties, it was one of his favorite things. “We’re going?” you tilted your head, lips parted, eyes squinting at his.

He rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath that sounded more like a child’s sulk. He pulled you further, opening the door and shoving you through, you made an audible ‘oof’ at that with a bitter chuckle. “Don’t you want to leave?” he turned the question back at you, not cool. You weren’t going to let him flip shit back into you. “You hate parties, I’m doing you a favor.”

A favor? This was the first time you’d had fun at a party or any social gathering in ages. You’d been the designated driver as always, but you’d managed to chat up a conversation with Dave, Danny’s friend. You didn’t feel the minutes dragging, nor did you have the immediate itch to go home. Why could you never have your fun? It surely felt that way.

You couldn’t help but scoff, eyes widening at his audacity. Yeah, you didn’t like parties, but you also agreed to go with him. In fact, you wanted to, you loved watching him flourish. And he made sure to never leave the room you were in, always at arms length. That was good enough for you. Plus, you’d been catching up. You were actually having a good time. “I was fine, Josh.” You can’t help but spit back. “You’re the one shoving me through the fucking door like you’re moving a couch that’s a little too big.”

He looked equally as frustrated as you at your response to him. He marched down the driveway, letting go of your hand. He dug into his pockets and pulled out his keys for his jeep and clicked it, the jeep making an audible ‘beep’ and its headlights lighting up. You weren’t dumbfounded. What in the fuck happened in the short forty-five minutes you’d been there? You rushed to the car, opening the passenger door than shutting it a little louder than intended.

Josh looked over at you, bottom lip wobbling before his eyes went watery. He gulped, eyes darting away from just a second before they looked back at you. “He was there.” Josh finally spat out, biting his bottom lip so hard he drew blood. He yelped then pulled his teeth away.

“Him?” you were sure you knew who it was, just wanting some sort of confirmation. His eyes darting over, a nod, a gulp, a nod. Fuck, anything would do. Josh had this guy he had fallen for, and he thought the guy did too, the situationship went on for two whole years. Josh, ever the kind man, waited and waited. The man who begged him for sexual favors being the same man to tell Josh that ‘he wasn’t ready’ and ‘he just needed to work through some things’. And even though you knew Josh didn’t believe him, he’d wait. Because maybe, just maybe he was wrong. But after two years Josh got impatient and snapped, asking why they wouldn’t date. And at that, the same guy who would butter him up to get what he wanted blocked Josh right when he texted him that. Apparently he had no use for Josh anymore, and that killed him. Josh felt weak, unlovable, and most importantly, used.

And used he was. You were disgusted someone could do that to him. No one deserved that, Josh being prime example. And as you asked that, there was a sense of hesitation before he nodded. You could tell he was trying to hold himself together, but everything would come crashing down. Because Josh was emotional, not one to ever bottle his emotions. Though you mainly saw him smile and laugh, he would always let himself grieve.

The drive back to his apartment was silent, the radio wasn’t even on to distract you from the way your heart ached at his hurt. He didn’t even acknowledge you when he opened his door, he didn’t help you out like usual either and it kind of pissed you off? You understood he was upset but there was no need to shut you out.

So, like the mature adult you were, you stomped out of the car and grabbed his arm as he walked back inside. His eyes shot to yours, flinching slightly. Tears were now streaming down his face, snot pooling from his nose and his face was splotchy and red. He didn’t even bother to wipe the tears that were threatening to drop from his jaw, just staring at you like a kicked puppy. His bottom lip stuck out in an obvious pout.

You sighed, dropping your hand from his arm. His eyes darted to yours and immediately dropped to the floor, his beautiful whimsical self reduced to a puddle that rolled down the hardwood floors. He stomped upstairs, slamming the door shut. Okay, so he was really hurt, probably the most hurt you’d ever seen him. And that made you feel so guilty. But at the same time did he have a right to treat you that way even when upset?

But, you couldn’t help but feel the need to help him, to comfort him, to tell him you were sorry and that you understood why he wanted to go. But, did he want you there?

You looked up the stairs, contemplating if you should go up there or not. Josh was a person who loved touch, and he usually liked being comforted so you decided to take your chances. After you ran up the stairs you knocked against the door softly, not hearing a word behind the door. You weren’t used to seeing him like this, Josh wasn’t supposed to act like this. He was supposed to be fun, and mildly annoying to anyone else who didn’t actually know him. You knocked again, hearing a small whimper.

You took that as permission and opened the door, grateful that it wasn’t locked. Slowly opening the door, you saw him sitting, almost laying back in his bed. His head tilted down, his eyes looking at his bedsheets. His pants had little droplets all over his thighs, looking like rainfall. You crawled next to him in the bed, leaning your head down on his shoulder to check his reaction. He let his temple rest against the top of your head. His hand slowly reached out for yours and you gladly laced your fingers with his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?” it was a stupid question really, of course he wasn’t okay. But you felt the need to say something.

He looked up from the bedsheets, his big brown eyes red and glossy. He shook his head, licking his lips to wet them. “I don’t even miss him.” Josh whines out, his voice cracking. “I just miss having him, if that makes sense.”

“Josh, you spent two years hoping he’d commit to you, it’s not unusual to feel that way.” you murmured, looking up at him. You reached your other arm around his waist, pulling him closer, tighter, feeling the need to keep him close. You just wanted him to know you cared, even if it didn’t feel the same.

“Seeing him was like a flashback, felt like I was my grandpa remembering Vietnam. Like, you enjoy it in the moment and you think what’s going on is good then it just crumbles. And I feel so stupid for thinking ‘well, maybe he’ll finally settle down’ or ‘he’s just not ready yet’ I told myself that for two fucking years. I could’ve had someone who truly cared about me.” Josh spilled his guts, finally fully talking about it. You felt so horrible that he felt so stupid, so naive. Josh was always the optimist, always thinking of the good side of the situation. And sometimes that could really fuck him over.

“I don’t even think I was in love with him, I was more in love with the idea of him finally loving me. You know? I just wanted someone to care.” he sighs out a puff of air from his lips. You get it, of course you do. It was nice to be cared for, to be appreciated, to be loved.

“So…” You paused, pursing your lips. “You were in love with the idea of him? But more so the idea of him loving and wanting you?” you asked, trying to make sure you got it correct.

“Something like that.” Josh admits with a weak nod, his hands going up to his head to tug at his curls.

You shifted yourself in front of him and grabbed at his hands, pulling them away. “Let’s not do that.” you chuckle weakly, placing his hands in his lap.

You cup his cheeks, making him look at you. And the look on his face is almost longing? But, why would that be directed at you?

“Y/N..” he murmurs your name shakily, his brown eyes meeting yours. “Am I handsome?”

You almost burst out laughing at that question, if not for his pouty, tear stained face. Of course he was handsome, he was one of the most handsome people you’d ever seen. “Josh..” you sigh out. “Of course you are.”

“You’re just saying that!” he huffs out, crossing his arms, trying to pull his face away from your hands.

“No I’m not!” you defend yourself, yanking his face to look back at yours. “Where’s all your confidence, honey? You know you’re gorgeous. You’re a whole diva. And I like you like that. You’re supposed to be loud and giggly and flamboyant. That’s you, Josh.” you explain to him, trying to drill the words into his skull with how close your mouth is to him.

His lips part and his brows furrow, his hands go from his lap to around your waist, pulling you into his lap. He holds onto you like a lifeline, only lifting his head to press a sloppy and wet kiss to your cheek. If he wasn’t in the state he was in, you would’ve giggled or maybe pushed him away with a shove of his shoulders. Instead, you drop your hands from his cheeks and wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight, scratching between his shoulder blades, lazily drawing circles on his shirt over his skin.

You don’t expect Josh to then push you off of him and curl up, muttering out. “‘S fine, I’m fine, doesn’t really matter. It’s all stupid.” he groans, his palms covering his eyes, almost pushing into them.

“No Josh- you’re not fine-“ you start but he cuts you off.

“I am fine!” he says a little too loudly, startling you. This wasn’t how Josh was, and you wanted to be there for him, but why was he making it so damn difficult? “I’m just being a fucking idiot, it’s pathetic, really. It was just a stupid fucking situationship- I need to get over it.”

“That’s not how anyone works.” you can’t help but roll your eyes, sitting down in the corner of his bed. You kept him at arms length.

“It seems like it. Jake can just move on, a girl breaks it off with him and the next day he’s fucking some other girl.” Josh defends his stance.

“That’s horribly unhealthy, he’s using sex as a coping mechanism instead of actually letting himself process everything. And you know how he drinks when it happens, he gets drunk and makes some bad decisions to distract himself.” you try your best to explain, reaching out and taking his hands away from his eyes. They were bloodshot, and very watery. His bottom lip was stuck out in a pout, and it trembled. The sight alone almost broke you.

“And-“ you can’t help but make this point just like you did time and time again. “You’re not Jake, even if you two are so similar. You’re your own person, babe, you know that.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like that.” he scoffs slightly. “I mean, I just wish I was more like him.”

And with that the tears in Josh’s eyes spilled down his face and dropped down his jaw. His knees were pulled up to his chest, he was slightly rocking himself for a little bit of comfort. You pulled his knees away with your hands, sliding between his legs to wrap your arms around him. Once you did that, his legs immediately locked around your waist, he buried his face into your neck, and his arms wrapped around your middle so tightly you felt your stomach cramp.

So, you do the only thing you know you can do. You pull his face away, pulling on the hair on the nape of his neck and immediately press a wet, opened mouth kiss on his forehead. To your surprise, he leans into it, his bottom lip stopping its twitching. It’s working. Lightbulb. So, you continue. Another kiss to his left temple, then his right, then the bridge of his nose, then his actual nose. You almost eat his nose which makes him choke out a slight giggle. He cranes his neck, chasing your kisses. So, you travel them lower, kissing his cheeks, then the corners of his lips, and then his chin. You wonder if you should stop, but his face pushes slightly towards yours. So, you kiss just under his jaw, resting the waters. It’s the same reaction as before, he even slightly hums a little.

Your hands go from his shoulders to his head to brush down his unruly curls, mostly due to him pulling and running his fingers through his hair. He purrs like a cat, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Your thumbs brush over his eyebrows slowly, and you can practically see his eyes roll back at the contact. So, you do it again, slower, and you press your thumbs down just a bit more.

Then, your lips press just under his ear, and he doesn’t pull you away. In fact, his arms lock around you tighter. A wave of confidence bubbles up in your gut, you purse your lips and press opened mouth kisses down his neck. And you’re absolutely delighted when he groans slightly. “Is this okay?” you whisper, mouth just under his ear.

“Please…” he begs, not knowing exactly what he’s begging for. Please continue? Please hold me? Please don’t go? Or maybe it was just… please? He didn’t know, all he knew was that he loved this, he felt adored, and butterflies swarmed his stomach.

“Shhh.” you whisper, kissing down his neck over again. You gulped, pulling away when you felt his crotch twitch, his cock couldn’t help but stir in his pants. Was this too far?

“Do you want me to stop?” you pull away again and he whines, making your stomach lurch.

“What do you want, Josh?” you ask him softly, scratching at the shaved sides of his head, just behind his ears.

He bites his lip, eyes darting to the wall. You can hear him gulp, can see his Adam’s apple bob. “Well, it’s hard to think of much of anything else when you’re basically making out with my neck.” he chuckles, he finally chuckles and that turns your concerned expression into a grin.

“So…” you smack your lips, still holding onto him but feeling slightly awkward.

“I should probably go to the bathroom and fix myself.” he unlocks his legs from around your waist and pulls his arms away from your middle. You grab his arm, not really knowing why you did it.

“Do you want me to help?” slips from your tongue and you immediately turn as red as a beet.

His eyes widen, his mouth parts in a silent gasp. “You’d-“ he coughs. “You’d do that?” he flushes as pink as you, cheeks looking sun-kissed, like he just got back from the beach.

“Josh, I’d do anything for you.” that wasn’t a lie, you would. You went to multiple shitty parties with him, dealt with pushing his drunk self back into his jeep, called him an uber on multiple occasions, cuddled him to sleep when he couldn’t, and now you’d kissed all over his face so he wouldn’t cry any more than he had.

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” he groans, pinching at his nose. He crosses his legs, yanking a decorative pillow from his bed to fully cover himself.

“No, babe, it’s normal. I’m not upset.” you shush him, trying your best to reassure him.

“Okay, okay.” he sighs, the anxiousness in his face wearing off. His legs spread slightly and you scoot from between his legs, eyes going down to his crotch.

You grab the pillow and drop it onto the floor, your eyes looking at his face, then the growing bulge in his khakis. You couldn’t help but despise those pants, he wore them everywhere. It was like Jake and his shitty blue jeans. They both had their favorite shitty pieces of clothing, as did everyone.

You reached your hand out, your fingertips barely grazing before he let out a hiss and pulled you to straddle his thigh. He needed the comfort of someone’s body against his. Your chest pressed against his and he let out an audible sigh of relief, like he was afraid that if you weren’t touching him you’d vanish into thin air. You palmed him through his khakis and his eyes darted to yours, big brown doe eyes pleading at you. He pushed your hand off, unzipping his fly before putting your hand back. His eyes roll back and he lets himself relax.

“Do you wanna lay down?” you ask him while palming him over his boxers. He was at least half hard and deliciously thick. But, this wasn’t about you, this was about him.

He nodded, and you helped push a pillow under his waist and put a couple of pillows behind his back and neck. He was half lying down, half sitting. He pulled you back onto his thigh, puckering his lips.

You leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss, both mouths parted as he sucked on your bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut. His palm went to your lower back, hand fitting under your shirt to scratch at the warm skin.

You reached your hand down into the hole in his boxers and carefully pulled him out, watching his cock slap against his clothed lower stomach. He wasn’t too big, just above average, but he was beautifully thick. You pulled away from his lips and he let out a soft whine, your left hand reached up to scratch at his scalp.

“Can you spit in my hand, please?” you held your hand out below his mouth, just over his chin. Instead of responding he simply gathered up his saliva and spit it into your palm. You kissed his cheek as thanks.

You wrapped your hand around the base, watching his face as you gave one slow pump to lube him up with his own spit. You could’ve sworn you saw a bead of precum leak from the very tip of his cock. Pressing your lips back onto his, you swiped your thumb over his tip and swallowed each and every small groan that left his lips at the small gesture. His hand that was on your back pressed down and pushed you closer, even if it was only an inch. You’re practically sharing breaths with the way he groans, swallowing them with pure bliss. You rock against his thigh slightly, pulling away from his lips to kiss and lick at his jaw and upper neck.

He definitely appreciates it, bucking his hips up into your hand, involuntarily jacking himself off. He lets out a strangled whine, eyes squeezing shut and his brows furrowing. He sucks in a breath. “Haven’t been touched like this cause someone wanted to in-“ he gulps down a breath. “In two years.”

Your smile drops at that. How dare someone ever do that to him? You knew Josh liked to give, you’ve heard his hookups talk about how good he was with his tongue especially. But, you’d always believed in giving back.

Josh twitches with every stroke of your hand, with every soft pass of your thumb over him. He squeezes your hip as if it’s a life raft, feeling himself go off into sea. Every flick of your wrist is like a crashing of a wave that gets closer and closer to shore. Bringing Josh closer and closer to orgasm.

Your eyes continuously flick from his face down to his cock, not being able to discern which sight you like more. Josh’s hand that was previously on your back goes to the back of your head, scratching at your roots to encourage you to kiss all over his skin. And you comply, again reaching down to press kisses all over the exposed skin his crew neck would allow.

“You doing okay?” you whisper, wanting to check in on him, making sure that his whines of pleasure aren’t turning into anything different.

“Yeah.” he breaths out heavily, practically panting like a dog in need of water. “Fuckin’ great.”

You use his encouragement to speed up a bit and he immediately shakes his head. “No, no- not yet-“ he rasps, bottom lip between his front teeth. “Want it to last a bit, please.”

You nod your head and slow back down to slow, languid strokes, making sure that your hand goes from all the way down to the base to all the way up to his tip at every stroke. You don’t want to miss a single centimeter of him.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” his praise went straight down to your gut, making your stomach twist in the best possible way. He was leaking, you hadn’t even needed to spit onto him again because of it. That was enough to make your head spin.

You squeezed him a bit harder, still keeping the pumps of your hand slow. He seemed to like that, trying his best not to rock his hips up or chase your hand. Though, he did buck his hips a few times, muttering weak apologies every time. You shook your head at that, nipping his gold earring on his earlobe.

Josh pulls away slightly to pull off his shirt, a thin layer of sweat on his chest that shines in the moonlight that radiates from his sheer curtains. He looks ethereal, and most definitely edible. So, you kiss at his collarbones, sucking small marks into the skin. He grabs for your other hand and puts it at his side, squeezing your hand so you squeeze the side of his stomach. You get the hint and squeeze at his side, crescent shaped indents marking his tan flesh. Your sucking and kissing turns into nipping, your teeth scraping against just under his collarbones. He shudders, back arching slightly off of his bed, and his hand that’s in your hair joins the other one on the other side of your hip. Your hand speeds up just slightly, your fist tighter. You lift your from him to blow your hair off of your forehead. He chuckles, lifting his hand from your hip to push it back before his hand goes back to squeezing you. You revel in his little puffs of air, his soft groans, the way his back slightly arches if you apply just a bit more pressure. He has never looked prettier, mouth parted in bliss, the shine of sweat on his skin, the way his eyes look up to his ceiling.

“Can you squeeze just a bit more?” he pants out and you eagerly nod, your kisses on his left pec, just above his nipple. His head nearly hits the headboard when you take his nipple into your mouth, nipping at the bud and sucking. His hands tighten around your waist and start to rock you on his thigh.

“Ffffuck!” he yelps, hips bucking when you deliver a slightly more aggressive nip. His dick twitches in your hand. You let your pinky feel his balls, tight and firm, but yet so velvety soft. He was clearly so close to orgasm, you just had to give him that one extra boost. You take his hand off his hip and reach down to his balls, softly squeezing them. His eyes immediately dart down to you and he groans louder than you’ve ever heard. His hands on your hips rock you faster, wanting to give you some semblance of the pleasure he was feeling.

You give his balls a harder squeeze and his head flys back, eyes rolling into his skull while his lips part and he groans deeply. You look down and see him twitch, his cock shooting out thick ropes of cum before he softens in your hand, twitches once more and sighs. “Holy shit, that was-“ Josh heaves, trying to catch his breath.

You peck the corner of his lips, nuzzling your nose into his upper cheekbone. Lifting yourself up you rush into his bathroom and grab a washcloth, dampening it under the sink before you return and wipe your hand and his stomach off. You press a soft kiss to his lips, he hums, rubbing your back. “I don’t think I’ve come that hard from a handjob in years.” he sighs, praising you.

The praise sends butterflies swarming down your stomach, and after he’s all cleaned he requests to cuddle with you, which you gladly agree to. With his arm wrapped around you, he asks. “Can we talk about what happened? I wanna know what you’re thinking, because, I’m thinking a lot of things right now.”

“Of course we can.” you nod your head, brushing back his flat and messy curls.

[stollengoods]

Chapter 6

It’s Not Me, It’s You

Myung-gi x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death, & smut.

Summary: You and Myung-gi make up.

————

You and Myung-gi both agreed to pick ‘X’ and get the hell out of this place, but ultimately the ‘O’s won. “Are you guys even listening to me !” The older man from earlier, which you learned to be Player 456, was yelling again.

Myung-gi rolled his eyes, “Fuck, not this guy again.”

“He helped us out during that game, maybe we should listen to him.” You said.

“No, I get that, but it’s useless trying to convince people to leave when the votes have already been casted.”

You sighed, “Yeah, I think he’s just frustrated like all of us.” You looked over at Player 456 as he continued on with his rant, “Do you guys realize what you’re agreeing to with this ? You’re exchanging human life for money ! That’s sick ! Do you have no humanity left ?!”

Myung-gi’s gaze lowered, “Alright we get it dude.” He mumbled under his breath. “I can’t listen to this anymore…” He turned around and walked off, you walking side by side with him. “All he’s doing now is just freaking people out.”

‘True.’ You thought, nervously playing with your fingers. You voted to leave and now that you can’t, having someone point out the obvious was not helping with your nerves.

You guys sat on his bed next to each other, “How are you doing ?” Myung-gi asked, his eyes scanning your face with concern.

You noticeably looked shock, this was the first time since you got here that Myung-gi actually showed that he cared for you. Besides when you held hands during ‘red light, green light’ but you chalked that up as a mixture of adrenaline and shock.

“I’m doing fine.” The lie rolled off your tongue so easily.

His hand instinctively cupped your face as he rubbed his thumb back and forth on your cheek in a soothing gesture. “You don’t have to lie to me y/n.”

You were so used to telling people everything was fine back in the real world that you forgot here you could die tomorrow so there’s no point in lying or faking anything anymore.

“Honestly ?”

Myung-gi nodded his head as he moved in closer to you.

“I’m freaking the fuck out.” Your eyes moved back and forth as you waited for his response.

“Me too.” He spoke softly, before leaning in and attaching his lips to yours. You reciprocated the kiss and it quickly became a make out session. You pulled away and interlocked your hands together before walking up to one of the guards.

You couldn’t tell if it was the same guard for when you were with Nam-gyu, but you strongly hoped it wasn’t their shift today. The guard led you guys out the door, up the stairs, and stood outside the door you and Myung-gi went through.

Once you guys were in, you shut and locked the door behind you. “Are they going to be there the whole time ?” Myung-gi asked his thumb pointing towards the door.

“Who cares.” You breathed, pulling him in by his shirt and interlocking your lips again. One of his hands held himself up on the bathroom wall as his other one cupped your face again.

You moaned into the kiss, pulling him in more until he was practically on top of you. He reached his hand down into your pants, going past your underwear and straight to your clit, rubbing circles on it.

Your hand went to his arm, your nails carving crescent moons into his skin. He hissed at that and inserted two fingers into you, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You pushed him back quickly, ripping your shirt off over your head along with your bra and discarding your pants with your underwear. Myung-gi stood there watching you with his mouth agape.

You giggled at his reaction, “What are you so shocked for ? You’ve seen me like this before.” You walked up to him and grabbed his hand. “I know, you’re just so beautiful y/n.” He whispered.

You pulled him towards you and turned around having him lay against the wall before tugging down his pants. You heard him groan and you haven’t even done anything yet. You continued to remove his underwear as his cock sprang free.

Your insides clenched, missing the feeling of him inside of you. You wrapped your lips around him and he seemed to forget about the guard outside as he released loud, drawn-out moans while you went down on him.

His hands went to your hair but retreated as he didn’t want to hurt you in any way especially since he just got you back. You came up with a pop and he initiated the kiss this time. He walked you backwards until your ass hit the sink then he spun you around, your hands holding yourself up with the sides of the sink.

He quickly removed his shirt before he lightly caressed your ass and that had you whining in anticipation, “Please baby…” you murmured. You were too much on cloud nine to notice you called him baby but Myung-gi noticed it.

He bit his lip before entering his tip into you, his hands having a strong grip on your hips as he sunk himself into you.

You wasted no time in pushing back against him and he began moving as well. “Fuck, I’ve missed you…” He moaned into your ear.

Your heart was racing from adrenaline and his confession. “I’ve missed you too baby.” You noticed yourself saying it that time because you did it on purpose. Plus when he had you bent over, railing into you, he could get you to say anything to him.

His thrusts began to get sloppy, “Fuck, I’m close.” You saw in the mirror as he closed his eyes trying to delay his release in order to satisfy you first.

“Cum in me.” You moaned, your legs trembling.

His chest was now pressed up against your back, “W-what ?” He asked.

“Please baby.” You clenched around him and he nestled his head in the crook of your neck.

“Oh god… fuck… you know not to say that to me, especially when I’m so close.”

You grabbed his hand from one your hips and placed it on your breast as you kept pushing your ass against him, making his thrust go faster.

“Ahh fuuuck !” He released one last hard thrust into you. You felt your eyes roll back as his warm cum filled you up, making you come undone as well.

His body held onto yours, still inside you, as you both released heavy pants. He kissed your neck, “God I want to stay in you forever.” He mumbled.

You relaxed in this position because, even if for a little bit, you can pretend it’s just you and Myung-gi back in his apartment. There’s no one dying around you, because when it’s just you and him, the rest of the world fades away.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Can I request the maximum of 🌲 and ⚖️?

Yes!

1k for 🌲:

---

As Buck gets back on the road, headed south to El Paso, he wonders if he’s made a mistake. Not in going after Eddie. Not even in leaving Chris. But in his timing. Is his timing wrong? 

He hadn’t wanted to wait. He’d wanted to get to Eddie as soon as possible. Who knows what the hell that woman is putting him through, right? Who knows if his father is hurt or dead or… Or what! But at the same time, what’s the plan here? What edge up does he have, going back? Should he have waited for business hours? Gone and purchased a gun or something? No. What? No. He’s being crazy. He doesn’t want a gun. He doesn’t even know how to shoot. Guns don’t make anything better. Not really. He’s just scared. He doesn't want anything to happen to Eddie.

He parks outside of a Cabela’s when he reaches El Paso. It’s not even six in the morning. The store doesn’t open until nine. He’s not sure what he’s doing here. Is he going to wait three hours? Buy a weapon? No. Right? He’s not… No. That’s not him. That’s never been him. But who is he willing to be, to protect Eddie? Pretty much anyone, he thinks. For Eddie? Anyone. Anything. 

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, unsure of the next best step. He doesn’t know what’s right. He doesn’t know what’s crazy. He doesn’t even have a plan. 

The feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket startles Buck. He doesn’t expect it. Not at this hour. He reaches into his pocket, hands a little shaky, and pulls it out. It’s a text. From Eddie. 

Idk if you’re awake or even nearby… But if you are, I need you to come pick me up.

Buck just stares at the text. He’s kind of baffled. Just… Just go pick him up? That easy? No gun needed?

Uncertain, he replies: 

How do I know this is really Eddie?

The response is immediate.

Buck… Really?

You’re the first to cry on emotional calls.

You watch way too much reality television.

You have a freckle on your left ass cheek. 

Need I go on?

Wait. He does? Well, okay. That’s Eddie. 

He replies:

I’m coming for you. 

🌲

There’s a long discussion. One that doesn’t include their mother. One that hardly includes their father. 

It’s a discussion about how to move forward. About how to take all this shit, and move forward anyway. 

Ramon will go with Sophia for a while. Stay in San Antonio. He needs time. Eddie can respect that. He’s been through a lot. Eddie’s not sure how much of the blame his father bears in everything that has happened. He’s not blameless. But whatever he did, no one deserves to have their agency stripped away. 

“Marcus is okay with that?” Eddie asks Sophia when she makes the call.

“He’ll have to be,” she says. “Plus, he can’t stay in this house. Not until it’s… A house again.”

Rather than a forest. Right. 

“I’ll work on that,” Adriana says.

It’s her Eddie is most concerned about, actually. Because it’s her who has volunteered for the unhappy task of staying behind. With their mother. Eddie didn’t like it. He didn’t agree with it. Surely she doesn’t deserve that; a child sticking by her after all of this. Especially Adriana, who she left out to rot in the woods, when she was the only person who could have known what had happened to her. 

“You can’t think of it that way,” Adriana argues. “It’s not about giving her what she wants. It’s about… Well, someone needs to keep an eye on her, first of all. You two have kids. Eddie, you… You never need to be around her again. I mean that. And I… I have a lot of time on my hands, while I figure out how to heal from this.”

She plans to fix the house. To make Helena help her fix the house. And maybe, if she can do it without making herself worse, take their mother back to Sweden.

“Maybe it’ll help her,” Adriana says. “Or maybe I’ll leave her there. Haven’t decided yet.”

“You know you don’t have to do this alone,” Eddie says. He’s told her and Sophia what he and Buck figured out. Their theory. The one he plans on rolling with, as best he can.

“We love you,” Sophia adds. “You’re our sister and we are always going to fight for you.”

“I know,” Adriana smiles. “I love you guys. But I need to do this. I have a lot to atone for.”

“It’s not your fault,” Eddie argues.

She shrugs. “That’s a flimsy line. And I need to feel less like a monster.”

Eddie supposes he understands that. 

“But you won’t be a stranger?” He ensures. “You’ll check in?”

She nods. “I promise.”

“Good,” Sophia says. “We will look through any forest to find you, Adri.”

“I know you will,” she smiles. She looks at Eddie. “Thank you for finding me.”

Eddie nods. “Always.”

For his own part, Eddie feels sort of like he’s getting away with something. Like the only one in the group project not doing any work. He is simply going to go home to his son and… Well, and his boyfriend. He guesses. That’s probably the right word for them. Anyway. Point is, he’s going back to his life. He’s going to try to get as much of it back as he can. He’s not taking on the care of any parent. He doesn’t actually have the energy for that. He doesn’t want to be involved in whatever happens to their mother, and he’s not too clear on if he’ll ever have a relationship with his father again. Maybe. He doesn’t know.

---

1k for ⚖️:

---

 Buck is hardly functional when the knock hits the door. He’s crashed out hard after delivering that punishment. Half because of the relief of the tension inside him, half because of the horror of viewing that man’s life. It makes it sort of hard to stay awake and think. Not to mention days and days of hardly sleeping at all have taken their toll on him. 

The point is, when he opens the door to Eddie, he feels like a zombie. He’s sure he looks like a zombie, too. 

Buck frowns when he sees Eddie standing there, two coffees in hand. 

“You don’t have to knock,” he says by way of greeting.

Eddie's mouth tightens a little. “I wasn’t sure.”

Buck sighs. “I told you it’s not… Can you just come inside?”

Eddie hands the coffee to him and steps through the door. 

“Thanks,” Buck mumbles. 

“I don’t know how much space you need,” Eddie says. “So tell me to leave, I guess. But I’m worried about you, okay? I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and you didn’t answer my texts.”

“Sorry,” Buck says. “I was sleeping pretty deeply… After not sleeping for a while.”

“Oh,” Eddie nods. “Uh, sorry for waking you up.”

Buck shrugs. “S’fine.”

Eddie exhales heavily. “Buck, are we okay? I don’t… I don’t want us to not be okay.”

Buck does his best to smile. It probably doesn’t look very convincing. 

“We’re totally fine, Eddie.”

Eddie frowns. “What? You were… You were pretty mad at me yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says. “I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. His brows furrow, like he’s still not satisfied. “I appreciate that. But I’m also kind of thinking that there’s, like, a bigger issue than just some heightened emotions yesterday.”

Yeah. Yeah, Buck can see how he’d think that. 

“There was,” Buck agrees. “But I fixed it. It-it won’t be a problem anymore. So we can forget about it.”

“What does that mean, Buck?” Eddie asks. “What did you do?”

“Does it matter? It’s… It’s fixed.”

“Fixed?” Eddie asks. His expression turns from concerned to angry. “The problem where I don’t want you to look into my future is just fixed? You aren’t worried anymore? So, yeah. It matters. What did you do? I mean, when did you even… We didn’t even touch after that!”

Okay, right. He can see how that looks. 

“No, no, no,” Buck shakes his head. “I didn’t look. I didn’t do anything.”

“Then how the hell is it fixed?” Eddie asks. 

“I made a deal,” Buck says. “I made a deal with Nemesis.”

Eddie’s face slackens. “What?”

Buck explains it. The whole thing. The deal, the terms, all of it. What he had to do in the middle of the night. The way he feels now. Eddie listens, face frozen with terror. He should be happy. Why isn’t he happy? Buck fixed everything. All their futures. Everyone is going to be okay. 

“Oh god, Buck,” Eddie says. “That’s not a good trade.”

“What?” Buck demands. “What do you mean? It’s a great deal, Eddie. Everyone I love is going to get the best future they can.”

“At what cost? You torturing yourself?” Eddie asks. “This is too much.”

“No,” Buck says. “No. I was already stuck with this either way.”

“But this is worse,” Eddie protests. “You could have gotten by on helping people. You liked that part.”

“I… I still can,” Buck reasons. “It just doesn’t… It won’t be enough.”

Eddie sighs. He pinches the bridge of his knows. The way he does when something - or someone - is exasperating him. Buck tenses. It feels oddly condescending. 

“Stop,” Buck pleads. “Eddie, stop. Just be happy. Please. You’re going to be happy.”

“Have you possibility considered I don’t want to buy my happiness at your expense?” Eddie asks loudly. Almost a shout. 

Buck swallows. He doesn’t understand why this is so bad. He doesn’t get it.

“Well, I’m the one that made the deal,” Buck says. “It was my choice.”

Eddie purses his lips. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Buck. I’m not going to pretend I’m not freaked out for you.”

“Okay, well I’m good. I’ll adjust,” Buck says. 

He’s actually not sure that that’s true. He thinks he might be lying. Because really… He’s scared. He’s terrified. He feels awful. He wishes Eddie would just get over this so Buck could just… He doesn’t even know. Ask him to stay here and hold him for a little while? Would that make it better? Maybe not for long, but for now…

Eddie sighs. He crosses his arms tightly, like he’s cold. “Okay, well… Alright.”

“Alright, what?” Buck asks. 

“Alright, I… I guess I don’t know what to say.”

“About what?” Buck asks. “It’s done, Eddie.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Eddie replies. 

“What do you want me to do?” Buck asks. “I’m not going to take it back. So either… Either you…”

“Either I what?” Eddie demands.

“Either you-you have to be okay with it, or… Or you leave me, I guess!” Buck flounders.

Eddie’s whole face falls. “Are you serious?”

No. No, Buck is not serious. He doesn’t want Eddie to leave. He doesn’t want any sort of ultimatum to be issued. Not really. But, what else is he supposed to say? What more does Eddie want him to do? What's done is done.

So Buck just shrugs helplessly. He feels helpless. He feels exhausted. 

“Wow,” Eddie says. “So much for your best possible futures for everyone, then.”

“Wait, no, that’s not-”

“You know, I think I’m gonna go,” Eddie says. 

“Eddie, come on. No, I-”

But Eddie is already walking towards the door.  “You know, when I was struggling, you were allowed to worry about me without me giving you some sort of ultimatum,” Eddie says. “I think you’re in trouble, Buck. And if you can take your head out of your ass to actually listen to me, I’ll be around.”

[paisholotus]

A Criminal Hero...

Now Playing: Thought I Was Dead~ Tyler The Creator

Bruce’s Pov

"A board meeting in full swing. Judge Phelan. moving to have you declared dead is not something that any of us want... but as responsible managers it falls to them to act on behalf of Wayne Industries." Alfred said, on the phone as I walked into my building.

I walked past the assistant that sat at her desk. "Morning." I said, smiling, walking past her. The Assistant gets to her feet. "Sir, you can’t go in there!" She yelled. I turned to her and smiled. "Yes, I can." Apparently the assistant recognized me, stands there, shocked.

As the door opened, Earle looks over, annoyed. "I’m sorry, can I...?" Earle stares at me. Dumbstruck. All heads turn. "Sorry to barge in, but I was in the area." Earle gets to his feet, approaching me. He shakes my hand, claps the other on my shoulder. "My boy! We thought you were gone for good." He said, surprised. "Sorry to disappoint." I said, as he nervously chuckled.

-Time Skip-

I worked on the suit adding the utility belt to it. I was so deep in thought that I didn't hear the elevator open.

"So, this what the suit is going to look like, huh Bruce?" I turned around and looked at Dick and nodded lowly. I turned my gaze back to the suit and held it up. I finally finished it and it was everything I visioned it to be.

Dick chuckled behind me and looked around the cave. This was his only second time being in the cave, so I looked back at him for his opinion.

"So, what is all this Bruce? You leave all this time and come back and build all this under the house." I huffed and crossed my arms. He looks at my suit and points with his brow raised, "and what is that? Didn't pick you for the spandex type of guy." He said, with amusement.

I walked up to him and placed my hands on his shoulders looking down at him. "Dick....there has to be a change to this city. And, I'm going to be that change. I'm going to make a difference to the people. I'm going to be Vengeance. I am going to be the Night villains can't hide in." I looked at my suit behind me and smirked looking at Dick. "I am the Batman."

-Time Skip-

Vivica's Pov

I was in the kitchen warming my leftovers for dinner. Today was long and hard and all I wanted to do was to eat and watch TV. I haven't heard from my man all day and I was irritated. I know Bruce been gone for a long time and he had to adjust to get his company back, but damn not even a call?

I took my food and sat on the couch and looked through Netflix. I have a love hate relationship with Netflix because they sometimes never have nothing good on there. I honestly just settled on family Guy because I know Peter Griffin hates seeing me coming.

I heard movement coming from behind me and I jumped a little. I looked around for my cat but he was sitting in the chair across from me. I slowly got up and quietly walked to my closet pulling out my gun from the safety box. No one has ever tried to break in but regardless I don't mind popping a cap in someone's ass.

I carefully crept down the hall and looked in my guest rooms and saw nothing. I saw my bedroom cracked open but Midnight could have went in there but I'm going to check just in case. I pushed open the door with my foot and looked around not seeing anything. I put down my gun and sigh with relief.

"Didn't pick you for the gun type..." A voice said, making my head whip around. A man or whatever the fuck he was, standing by my windows. I raised my gun as my heart was beating out my chest. The man walked closer I clicked off the safety but lowering my gun as the man quickly took off his mask.

"Bruce......" I said, as I turned my light on. He was in this big black suit. He was literally dressed as a bat. He walked in front of me as I continued to look him up and down. "The fuck is this? How'd you get in here?" I asked, now looking him in the eyes.

He cupped my cheeks and smiled lowly at me, "you told me that things needed to change. So, all this time I left to become that change. For you. For me. For my parents. And, for the people." I held on to his wrists gripping them tightly.

"Things are going to be different this time, Viv."

[wolfwoocl]

“...Yeah.” 

He doesn’t like admitting the fact out loud. He doesn’t like thinking about it to begin with, but with Vash that is unavoidable one way or another. Despite steadily beating behind his sternum for four years now, Nicholas still has not come around to thinking of the heart in his chest as his. Other than a few…hiccups…here and there, it’s served him well. Kept him going. That’s as much as anyone can ask for, given how far and how hard he pushed the limits of his body.

A new heart, a product of a new century, placed in the chest cavity of a man who should have died over a hundred years ago. Ironically, it’s the only part of him that fucking belongs here. 

“Thought hadn’t even crossed my mind,” Wolfwood responds wryly. Leave it to Vash to leave an impossibly well-timed comment...probably without even being aware of it. Out of place, not out of time. He can’t further pursue the darkening line of thought even if he tried. Not with Vash watching him so intently. Not with those eyes, mercurial, shifting somewhere between bottle glass blue and nightglow iris depending on how the light hits them, the angle of Vash’s face. Not when they finally have time. 

Wolfwood follows the faint, crackling lines in the corner of Vash’s left eye, right above his little mole, with the pad of his thumb. Both hands travel upward from there, gently rubbing circles about Vash’s temples, kneading his scalp and lathering the dark strands of hair further. 

“Quit squirmin’, ya missed a spot. ‘s what happens when ya only got one arm to work with, huh. Too busy gawkin’ at me with yer big saucer eyes, maybe…”

There’s hardly anything he can think of that Vash can’t do just as well with one arm that he can with two, but Wolfwood likes having the excuse all the same…And no one ever said it had to be a good one. 

Hair, shoulders, upper arm, sides, back. Wolfwood takes his time going from shampooing to soaping skin without accepting any ifs, ands, or buts. He’s earned that much, damn it, and Vash will not dissuade nor distract him. So what if he finds himself cataloguing every new scar, ones both recognizable and not? On the grand scale of things, finding Vash sooner would not have changed anything. There are more years to account for than the length of his own natural lifespan.

Somehow, Nicholas feels responsible anyway.

At the very least, he can keep his hands busy while he answers the rest of Vash’s questions. “The way I had it explained to me…My heart was cooked. A regular human heart wasn’t gonna cut it between all the shit Conrad and Chapel put me through. So they got a little creative. Recovered my file out of his archives, found some old notes the good doctor left behind.”

Wolfwood had expressly asked not to see that particular document despite Luida’s suggestions. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know or relive any single part of that life.

The words do not come easy. Wolfwood’s voice becomes halting and tense as he tries to keep it steady, “It’s artificial, more or less. Infused with Plant ‘n Plant energy…Wasn’t real clear on the distinction at the time, if I’m bein’ honest. There’s still a chance that my body might randomly decide to reject the damn thing, but so far so good.”

In hindsight, Luida’s deadpan delivery of all the things that could go wrong with his new heart seems almost comical. It might also randomly explode, stop working altogether, or suddenly run out of power, but Vash doesn’t need to live with that knowledge right now.

Damn it. 

He’s lost track of how many times he’s scrubbed at this part of Vash’s back. Change of subject, then.

“Anyway, what the hell is this about you goin’ to jail? Everyone on Home was bein’ all tight-lipped about it whenever I tried to ask.”

Breathe.

Vash just needs to... breathe—to give himself a moment to take it all in, to calm down, to think about his own words. He fixates on his breath while undressing so much that he finally silences his chatterbox mouth for more than a few minutes.

He can't help but feel a creeping shyness in undressing, even if he'd done all of that and more with Wolfwood two hundred years prior. It's been a while! His body wasn't pretty before, and it's definitely worse now. Carved chunks of his flesh look deeper than before, he has far more stitched wounds. He'd nearly lost a leg once, indicated by a twisting, jagged scar around his shin and thigh where a bear trap weapon clamped onto him. Before he turned himself in, the bounty hunters became worse. Desperate, penniless, and hungry, these hunters gave their all to catch him for the unimaginable prize attached to his name. Most people didn't recognize him anymore, but when someone did...

All of the metal had to be removed when things began to shock him wherever he went, replaced by the same sturdy alloy that his most recent arm was made of. Unlike his arm from two centuries ago that didn't survive the end, the one Wolfwood retrieved lacked a gun. He couldn't have weapons in jail for obvious reasons, so Brad made him an arm just like the one he had when he'd met the priest—instead of shimmering green, it was a glassy onyx. That arm served him well. Without Brad around though, Vash can't help but wonder how he'll get a replacement...

With it gone, at least he doesn't need to concern himself over taking it off as well. Vash can just get out of his clothes and slip into the tub before Wolfwood can look at him too hard. He can feel his gaze on him when he's undressing, and while not unwelcome, it does send a terrible chill through Vash's bones that he wishes he could hide better. He wants this. More than anything else on the planet, he wants this right now. He just... hadn't thought about what bathing would entail. Kinda.

Vash huffs and shakes the jitters out from his shoulder to his hand before turning around. His gaze softens as he admires Wolfwood from the chest up, sunken and relaxed in the water just as he'd wished would happen when he built this place. It's satisfying, to say the least.

"Well, you are the only one who's ever been able to catch me," he chuckles and continues with an endearing speaking tone, "I don't have billions and billions of double dollars to give you as a reward though. Guess you got scammed, huh?"

He takes Wolfwood's hand in his as he steps into the bath and sinks right into the space in front of his partner, between his legs and against his chest. The new scars on Wolfwood's body hadn't escaped his scrutiny however; still holding onto his hand, Vash leans forward to present his back to the undertaker. Betwixt all of the scarred flesh and implants are difficult to see fringed scars, lightning scattering in every direction and more.

"We match now, I guess," the water swirls as he returns to leaning against the man behind him, "Do they hurt? What—um... what did they have to do to you? You seem more... Plant-y than I remember. Your heart, specifically. I know it's weaker than before but... it's as if they replaced it."

Vash shuts himself up by dipping his head below the water and running his fingers through it before they lather it up. Strands separate from each other as he scrubs at his scalp underwater, freeing them from a decade of grease and oil. He breaches again and sits up, curiously twisting his back to see Wolfwood's face and golden-brown eyes. The Independent has no idea just how love-stricken he looks, but he does feel tears threaten to pool at the corners of his eyes again.

It's just the hot water, Vash thinks to himself, trying not to think of all the years that came between the two of them.

"Oh, and d-don't worry about me shocking us in here! I've been... feeling calmer. Less zappy. Maybe my 'nap' did work after all..."

[dykedvonte]

I just realized some people are confused about events in the alluded to past in Mouthwashing, particularly about how long the crew has been working together.

The only person who is truly new is Daisuke and it’s why his dynamic with the crew and role in the story is very unique and somewhat distant. Curly didn’t just get Jimmy this job on the Tulpar, he got him the job with the Pony Express. He’s been his copilot for probably a couple of years but still not as long as they’ve been friends. None of them are new with the freight industry, Anya and Swansea especially have been doing this for years, together.

Jimmy is the newest on the regular crew, maybe just a few assignments, but it’s not his first time working with them. I think it’s just something important because this isn’t just one bad mistake that snowballed with giving Jimmy the job. None of them thought Jimmy would do anything, no matter how off-put by him they could’ve been, since he hadn’t done a thing since being there. Generally unpleasantness isn’t a crime and he’d be aware of that.

It was a festering thing and a sort of forced trust they had to give him that he knowingly took advantage of. He was the black sheep and still a wolf under the wool. He expected when he lashed out, that he had been there long enough for it to be looked over completely. Got too comfortable in the space he inserted into and did a lot of damage with his claws when he felt he was going to get shaken out.

[simcardiac-arrested]

zavijava info PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!! PLEASEEEEE ZAVIJAVA COME HOME ... PLEASE .... umm um um ill tell you about umm . tma au im making for nastya if u tell me about her .PLEASE!!!!!!!

so she is definitely a star of some kind. i mean she is an angel but in that story in particular The Stars are kind of angels. like they’re otherworldly beings and they jus kinda hang out. cosmically. it’s a different dimension separated from the human one but like, obviously stars still exist for humans, they just don’t do anything crazy because the rules of the world dictate that their realities shouldn’t interact. angels can observe the other world from far up above yet they still exist on a different level. But tbh zavijava had never enjoyed the otherworldly ethereal whatever lifestyle—she just didn’t feel like she fit in there. she is a #1 humans fan though so she knows that’s where she’d fit in. so she does just that. she fits in perfectly :) and normally :) yay :)

[lesbiansanemi]

Currently trying not to vomit over the fact that I essentially just lost almost a thousand dollars brb

[peoplesrazor]

Hi, @starlit-soothsayer!! We have got to stop meeting like this.

I told you, I'm a pedant. Maybe I wouldn't be compelled to keep making these long post about how factually wrong you are if you, like, looked something up sometimes.

While your actions don't meet the legal standard for doxing, this does not mean it doesn't carry the same negative connotations and that it isn't an invasion of privacy. In does not mean it's not a known form of intimidation.

It also does not mean, in this case, that tumblr, at least, might not consider it actionable.

Doxing is a neologism (Wikipedia link for further info) sometimes called a coinage. We, meaning collectively as a society, made it the fuck up. We just went documents, dox, getting/providing dox, oh, I get it doxing. While all language is descriptive and changes with time, this is doubly true for neologisms as they are still new.

In other words, today's "nah, Dude it's public info" can become tomorrow's "Go to jail, go directly to jail, do not collect $200" without any warning.

Further, what is and isn't doxing depends not just on what information is doxed, but how it is presented and for what purposes. That policy can also vary from site to site and company to company.

Tumblr's post on being doxed, for instance, says, among other things, the following (Truncated or this would be even longer):

“Doxing is the act of publishing someone’s personal information, of which there would be a reasonable expectation of privacy and dubious value to the conversation, in an environment that implies or encourages intimidation or threat.”

Dubious value to the conversation...what does having people's social's add to your conversation?

This includes information that may arguably be easy to find, such as a home address from a WhoIs lookup or personal photos from Facebook, so long as it is wielded in a threatening manner - for instance, tweeted at someone in response to a disagreement. Doxing is less about the availability of the information, and more about the way it is used to intimidate or harass a target.

...at someone in response to a disagreement...

They further add this little tidbit in the next paragraph:

For harassers, the pathology behind doxing is about rationalizing oneself as “blameless” for pawning off personal information for others to harass with. The person who paints a target on you might not be the one to act on it, but the message is clear: “I can’t be held responsible for what happens next.” Aside from intimidation, harassers will often use dox to create the illusion that they have totally invaded your personal space, even if their information is of limited value or inaccurate.

Was it really your plan to talk about how easy the info was to find and to say you have no control over what others do with it? Because that's basically the two things they say is not an excuse. Like, that's the whole plan? Anyone could find it. I didn't tell people to harass you. I didn't tell them not to, but I didn't make them. That's your entire reasonable argument?

That was your whole defense? Like you I can't control what other's do, but if someone was to report that post, Tumblr might, at the very least wonder what other purpose you had for, not only gathering, but also providing that information for others to use at their discretion.

Oh, but that doesn't say anything about social media does it? Let's see what someone else says about it.

How about a company not involved directly in this...how about Twitch?

From their page on doxing. Think I only have to copy/paste their list of what counts to make my point.

Real name

Contact information

Social Security number

Home address

Employer

Credit card numbers

Bank account numbers

Personal photographs

Social media profiles

Uh oh.

Social media profiles.

Guess social's count sometimes, huh?

Now Discord's policy is a bit more of a fuzzy area, but I'll let you look that up and decide if you broke their policy. If you have Sai's info in your files or archive or whatever from Sabine's dox, then, yeah possibly. Like tumblr, they might just stop to wonder what other reason someone could possible have for gathering that info.

Honestly, for someone who has made a few posts on other people not understanding words, including one post saying the same about doxing, you'd think you'd understand the nuances better. You may be, at the moment, legally correct about the definition, but when it comes to the connotations you are technically incorrect.

The worst kind of incorrect.

A question you didn't need to answer. I agree it wasn't doxxing, but you knowingly compiled socials of people who didn't need to be involved for the purposes of harassment. Literally, what did these people do to warrant this other than be in Sai's server?

The only 'purpose' for me was to provide the information. I don't care what people do with it, as I have no control over them.

[the-brainrot-central]

Hot tip for teens: maybe don’t go to college straight out of high school, especially if you don’t know what you want to study, have zero work ethic, motivation, or desire to succeed, and no goals correlated to obtaining your degree to motivate you. Cus if you do, you’re gonna be pretty fucked.

[un-pearable]

whoops . i know i’ve gotten sufficiently emotionally attached to a series when just looking it up on the TV is enough for me to get lethally giddy and self conscious