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paarksunghoon · 24 days ago

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resignation (6)

SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.

NOTES: life comes at ya fast…updates will come as I have more inspo and time to write. :) this is unedited

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: cunnilingus, slight coercion (but is it really if she wants it?).

SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST

***

Midweek comes around slower than you’d like and it feels as though your days are dragging on the more you try to tie up loose ends and review resumes of potential candidates.

Sunghoon has agreed to transfer some of the responsibilities onto the secretaries for the time being. They’ll be responsible for attending meetings in-office and other tasks that can be taken off of your plate as you focus on what’s at hand.

“Are you any closer to finding me a new assistant?”

He asks this at least once every few hours. He’ll do it when he hears you typing away on your keyboard or when you’ve neglected to hear him call you from the door. Sunghoon says it with a smile that looks too playful for your liking.

“Not any closer than I was since the last time you asked me.”

“Shame. But perfection takes time, doesn't it?”

You roll your eyes. “Come in and close the door, will you? It’s hot as shit outside and you’re letting all of my cold air out.”

“Maintenance is working on fixing the air conditioning in the main areas. My office isn’t as cold as yours, I’ll say that.”

“Maintenance likes me better.”

“Nuh uh.”

You look up from your monitor. “What are you, a child?”

“Maybe.” You roll your eyes again and focus back on your work. “Any candidates I should know about?”

“Are you asking me because you’re interested or because you’re bored?”

“Is there any difference?”

“Yes. You either care about who’s going to take over my position once I’m gone, or you enjoy watching me suffer by being in my presence.”

“The latter, actually. You’re cute when you’re angry at me.” You scowl at him. “See? Cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“You say that, and yet you are.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re really cute, especially with my hand between your legs.” Your face grows hot and Sunghoon grins when he realizes he’s rendered you speechless.

“If you aren’t going to be of any help, might as well go back to your office and do your job.”

Sunghoon puts both hands up. “Alright, alright. I did come here with the intention of an update, though. Heeseung mentioned you’ve made some progress when I saw him earlier this morning.”

“Some. I’ve been getting hundreds and hundreds of applications, and it’s getting hard to sift through all of them.”

“What kind of things are you looking for?”

“Experience, mostly. Someone who meets half of these qualifications and won’t be an ass about it.”

“Got any contenders?”

“I haven’t met with anyone yet, so I can’t be so sure right now. I’m in correspondence with some to meet at the office next week for an initial interview before I decide.”

“How many interviews?”

“Three. One introduction, a second so they can see the office, and a third with you.”

“With me?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, you. I need you to like your assistant.”

“The way I like you?”

You near your throat.

“I surely hope not.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I just need an assistant who can handle the job and not complain about it too much.”

“That’s the goal.”

“Who are you meeting with next week?”

“Cho Miyeon’s coming on Monday morning and Kang Taehyun will be coming the same afternoon.”

“Yang Jungwon on Tuesday too, huh?” Sunghoon peers over your shoulder and stares at your calendar. “You’ve got a busy week.”

“I’m doing my best. My workload is being shared while I look for my replacement, so it’s not too bad. Don’t get any ideas and add things on my docket, though.”

“Well…”

You sigh. “Sunghoon, please. I’m trying to be diligent and do right by you, but you’re making me want to quit on the spot.”

“Hear me out at least, okay?”

Sunghoon sits on the edge of your desk and sees the top button of your blouse unbuttoned. It’s not enough for him to see your bra underneath, but his mouth runs dry thinking about it.

“It’s our turn to choose a restaurant for the next quarterly dinner party. As you know, it’s important because we as a company build internal connections and reward those who work under us with an all expenses paid meal.”

“Plus quarterly bonuses from the respective employers.”

He nods. “Yes, plus the bonuses. Anyway, I’ve booked a reservation at a highly rated Spanish place that serves tapas style for tonight. Cool, huh?”

“You cannot seriously expect me to drop my plans to work.”

“You don’t have plans.”

“Okay, fair point. But Pochi, Sunghoon. And I don’t want to work!”

“We won’t be out until late into the evening, if you’re worried about feeding her. We’ll leave the office early and I’ll have you home before nine. And you won’t be working. Not really.”

“Asking me to try food for a work event is considered work.”

“Just come with me, okay? If you like it, we’ll host the party there. If not, we try another one on the list.”

“What list?”

Sunghoon merely smiles but he doesn’t explain further. “Don’t worry about it. Get yourself hungry and we’ll leave at five.”

“You, leaving work at five…”

“Early, I know.” Sunghoon laughs. “So what do you say?”

“I say you want me to ignore all of my tasks and distract me with food. Why can’t you go with another assistant who actually gives a shit about this party?”

“Because I care about your opinion, not theirs.”

“I don’t have time to entertain this when it’s not on my immediate priority list. You can bring Jongseong to dinner, for all I care. He’ll appreciate that more than me.”

Before you know it, he’s on the floor and turning your chair to face him.

“Sunghoon!”

He situates himself between your legs and spreads them apart by pushing your knees away. His fingertips gently touch your skin and inch up the skirt you’re wearing, pushing the fabric up your thigh. Your resolve seems to crumble when you see him like this and look around hastily.

“W-What are you doing?”

Sunghoon doesn’t speak. He looks at you and smiles like he knows something you don’t.

“My window is open,” you say in a haste, trying to push his hands away from your legs.

Sunghoon merely laughs and leans down to press a kiss to the inside of your knee while maintaining eye contact. You sit frozen in your chair as you watch him stand, eyes trained on his semi-hard cock outlined in his trousers. He makes no fuss and faces the windows to close the blinds before turning back to look at you.

“Better?”

All you can do is nod. Sunghoon drinks you in with his eyes. His gaze starts at the bottom of your heels until you feel his stare drag up your body, locked in on the flesh of your collarbones until his eyes meet yours. It’s hard to keep eye contact with him when he’s looking at you like that, never mind the fact that the outline of his dick is practically at eye level.

He brings his hand to his mouth and rubs his jaw, huffing something you can’t quite make out. He then resumes his positions on his knees and this time, you don’t complain when Sunghoon pries your legs apart.

“Can I try to convince you?” he asks in a sultry tone. His voice might as well be made of soft velvet and you find yourself nodding. “Yeah? Can I have my way with you right here?”

Sunghoon has his answer when you widen your legs before him and parts his mouth like he’s in awe. He observed the way your skirt rides up your thighs even more, then shifts his gaze to your covered cunt. Sunghoon looks like he might as well be high; his gaze is hyper focused between your legs and his well you panties mold to the shape of your cunt.

His bottom lip becomes wet with his saliva and you’re almost positive that Sunghoon would start drooling the longer he looks at you. His hands delicately hold your ankles in place when you brush your thumb against the corner of your mouth.

“You’re drooling.” Sunghoon looks up at you.

“I can’t help it,” he says, kissing the pad of your thumb. “You’re so perfect down here.”

Your cheeks flush for the umpteenth time. Sunghoon’s hands move from your ankles to gently caress the outer skin of your calves before he brings one hand to push your skirt until it sits just below your waist. You lift your hips to help him and settle back down in your chair at a steep slouch.

Sunghoon holds you there and you feel as if you’re being presented on a platter. Still unused to being like this in front of him, you resist the urge to close your legs to prevent yourself from being even more flushed than you already are. He pushes his face between your legs and gives one, long kiss to your covered slit.

“So perfect.” Sunghoon mumbles against you, and you suck in a quick breath. He sticks his tongue out to taste the wet slick soaking from the fabric. “That’s really good.”

Never in a million years would you have ever guessed how good Sunghoon looks on his knees. He’s brash and confident, proud and stoic. The ease in which Sunghoon fell to his knees knowing he’d see what you hide between your legs makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. Sunghoon, who stands down for no one, kneels on his knees for you.

He pulls your body down and brings his tongue all over your covered cunt. The surface of his tongue makes you clench against him and buck your hips. Sunghoon chases after it, pushing against you harder than merely grazing like he was previously. He licks a confident stripe and laps at your panties like a kitten drinking milk.

His ginormous hands and caresses your outer thigh like he’s trying to make you relaxed and unashamed of the pleasure he wants to give you. You’re reminiscent of how you felt the morning Sunghoon’s hands were on you for the first time—nervous, excited, and extremely horny.

When Sunghoon pulls your panties to the side to reveal your lap to him, he groans and his warm breath makes a shove run down your spine. He admires the way your pussy clenches in front of him and kisses your naked slit like he’s trying to reassure you.

“Relax, love. It’s just me.”

“Kind of hard to relax.”

“Why?” Sunghoon kisses your slit once more and you sigh in contentment.

“I’m not used to people looking at me like this.”

He looks up. “Get used to me between your legs.”

When you deal with Sunghoon’s demands during working hours, you’re a force to be reckoned with. He’s stubborn and loves to fight back until you frustratingly give up or until you’ve backed him into a corner. You’re used to his hotheaded tendencies and never back down if you can help it.

But Sunghoon’s hands keep you locked before him so gently that it makes you think you’ve got nothing to worry about. His fingers caress your skin in a way that makes you tingle with excitement and lust, and it’s been a while since you’ve felt this way about anyone.

He can feel your body respond to him when you loosen the tightness in your hips and let your legs fall beside him. Sunghoon’s mouth kisses your outer lips and avoids your clit, but the feeling is all the same when you haven’t been in this position in years. He takes his time, moving his plush and moistened lips across your skin like he’s mapping out every inch of you.

Sunghoon’s head moves to your inner thigh and his hair brushes your skin. His eyes remained closed as if to savor the taste of your body. You can’t seem to look at anything but him like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you close your eyes and allow yourself to lose yourself in his touch.

Feeling so exposed is out of your comfort zone. You feel completely naked in front of him despite wearing a blouse and a skirt, technically. The sheer act of intimacy, even if Sunghoon walks away from you forever after he’s done kissing you between your legs, still feels like more than a mere hookup like your previous experiences.

Sunghoon is still fully dressed and you wonder if he’s as hard as he was before kneeling. Your mind races when he switches legs and kisses all the way to the inner portion of your knee, dabbing gentle pecks that makes your heart race much faster than you would’ve ever anticipated.

He must know by now you’re as inexperienced as a woman your age could be. It’s never for the lack of trying; men leave you disappointed and the pool of new lovers falls short when you aren’t the type of person to lose yourself in strangers who will never love you back. Sunghoon touches you like he’s more than somebody you’ve worked with for the last six years. It scares and excites you all at once.

His breath ghosts over your cunt before he sticks his tongue out to lick a fat stripe. It feels like the entire surface of his tongue covers the entirety without a single inch being undiscovered by his mouth, and the sensation makes your toes curl in your heels. It’s enough to make your back arch slightly. Sunghoon watches you and puts both of his hands at the side of your hips to keep you steady before him.

Sunghoon takes his time and doesn’t rush it like you think he will. He sounded so desperate to get you to agree to come with him to dinner tonight. You were sure he’d get on both hands and knees like a dog to beckon you to come. The sense of urgency seems to have been tossed out the window when he closed the blinds. Despite being in your office and hearing faint sounds of the copy printed from outside the doors, you feel like it’s just the two of you existing in the same space.

His tongue moves up and down your slit slowly. Sunghoon’s eyelashes are long and dark, fluttering against his cheek with every pass. You wonder if this is what he looks like when you’re kissing him. It’s unfair how sexy he looks when his tongue is coated in your slick and when he’s sighing against your pussy like this is a meal that has finally satisfied his craving.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs against you the second he pushes his tongue past your folds. The vibrations continue to add to your pleasure and you buck your hips against his face.

“S-Stop talking.”

He chuckles. “I think you like it when I talk to you like this.”

You shake your head stubbornly. Sunghoon hums like he doesn’t believe you. His fingers dig into your hips to pull you closer to his face instantly, latching onto your cunt with the urgency you anticipated beforehand. He shoves his tongue deep inside of you to the point where you grip the handles of your chair until your knuckles feel sore. Your palms have grown sweaty and you fear you’re losing your grip on both the chair and your sanity.

He looks up at you before taking one hand and putting it in his hair. It’s like a foreign instinct takes over. Your hand grips his hair until you’re holding his head in place. His eyes flicker back to yours before focusing on lapping up your wetness, no doubt coating the lower half of his face in it.

There’s no real method he’s adhering to. It’s messy and growing louder by the second with his saliva mixing in with your juices. Sunghoon slurps you up like he’s trying to taste all of you at once and flexes his jaw to accommodate shoving his tongue inside of your folds and thrusting.

Your legs eventually wrap around his shoulders and Sunghoon can feel your heel digging into his suit jacket. He doesn’t mind. You’re sure this encourages him to fuck you like this harder because his tongue moves in circles inside of you when your thighs keep his head locked in place. His dark brown eyes open to look right at you and the moans you’ve been holding in escape.

Sunghoon moans against you too. Your whimpers and short breath sent the blood straight to his cock, but he knows this isn’t the time nor the place to make you moan the way he wants you to. He’ll take what he can get, but that single, deep moan that came from his tongue bouncing over your clit makes him think it would be worth it for everybody to hear you come.

He looks so good with your thighs suffocating his face. Sunghoon doesn’t complain, he just puts his hands on your thighs and squeezes you to keep them there. Your hips start to chase his mouth when you feel your orgasm building and when Sunghoon sees your chest heaving off of the chair, he keeps his steady position and flicks his tongue across your swollen bud.

You don’t even realize your hips are rolling against his mouth until you come against Sunghoon’s tongue. He doesn’t give you a second to breathe as he laps it up, opening his mouth as best as he can with your legs still wrapped around his face. He moans when he tastes all you have to offer and bucks his hips to grind against the tightness of his slacks when he sees your eyes wired shut and mouth gaping.

The grip on his hair loosens when your body relaxes and so does the grip on your legs. Your breath feels much heavier than before and when you open your eyes, Sunghoon’s looking at you with a drunken smile on his face. Your cheeks instantly heat up and you try to pry your legs back down, but he keeps you steady there and moves his head to kiss you on each thigh.

“You look so pretty when you come.”

“S-Sunghoon…”

“Yeah, love?”

You blush harder. “You’re just…”

“I’m just what?”

You avoid eye contact. “You looked really hot.”

He laughs and you feel his eyes still staring at you. Sunghoon lets go of your legs and helps settle them back down on the ground before pushing your panties back in its proper place. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand and sits on the back of his knees to help you regain balance and sit upright in your chair as you fix your skirt in an attempt to look decent.

“You did so well for me,” he says, pushing upwards to kiss you. Your taste lingers on his lips. Sunghoon braces himself on your thighs and his palms feel comforting.

“I-I can’t believe I let you do that in my office.”

“Such a rebel, hm?” Sunghoon chuckles between kisses before pulling back to look at you. “Did that convince you to come with me tonight?”

You nod shyly. “I don’t want you to think I’m the type of girl who can be bribed by sex, though.”

“I don’t think that of you. Matter of fact, I know I had you reeled in when I told you I’d take care of the details.”

“Hmph.”

“I ate you out because I wanted to.”

Sunghoon kisses you again before standing up. The sheer size of it makes your mouth water and you see the small, wet stain left by his precum. He watches you with fascination and watches your hand reach out with hesitation, pulling back before you’ll do something you might regret.

He doesn’t force you to touch him, nor does he ask you to do anything in return. You watch him with hooded eyes and the sight of you looking up at him while he stands will fuel his dreams for days to come.

“You’re hard.”

“That I am.”

“All that from eating me out?”

He laughs. “You underestimate how much I’m attracted to you.”

Your eyes flicker up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So much that I ate your cute little pussy in your office.”

You swat the side of his thigh and look away from him. “I…My pussy isn’t cute.”

“So cute and so tight. Felt it with my fingers and I felt it again with my tongue. Can’t help but wonder what it’ll feel like with my dick.”

“Sunghoon!”

“Too soon?” The blush on your face gives your desire away, but he laughs and backs off.

“I have a pair of fresh slacks in my office. Let’s finish the rest of today and then we’ll head over for dinner, yeah?”

You raise your eyebrow. “You’re gonna walk out of my office while you’re hard?”

“It’s like, two inches from yours.”

“People could see.”

“Aw, are you worried about me?”

You huff. “Let people see how hard you get for me, for all I care.”

Sunghoon smirks. “Atta girl. I think I just might.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Just how you like me to be.”

You don’t argue with him. You both know he’s right. He eventually makes his way to the front door and is about to leave before he comes back around your desk. Sunghoon takes you by surprise and leans down to kiss your lips once more before wordlessly exiting your office.

It takes a great deal of strength to stand up and open the blinds.

***

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joelsrose · 27 days ago

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Dark Matter

i haven't written reed before but here we go! i hope yall enjoy xx

warnings: fingering, age gap? (reader is mid 20's), cheating (sorry sue), power-dynamic, semi-public

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

You walked into the lab the same way you always did—quietly, carefully, your notebook hugged to your chest like a shield, pages dog-eared and smudged with graphite, filled with half-solved equations, theoretical scribbles, and tiny margin doodles of molecules and stars.

The click of your heeled boots echoed off the cold, polished floor, a sound that somehow felt too loud in the stillness of the room. The air inside was always a little too cold, like the whole space was suspended in a vacuum—untouched by the warmth of human hands—but you liked it that way. It made you feel sharp, focused. Like anything could happen here. Like everything already had.

It had been exactly seven days since you started your internship under Mr. Richards—or Reed, as he’d insisted you call him on the very first day, his tone polite but firm, eyes flickering to yours with something unreadable when you stammered out “Dr. Richards” instead. The man was brilliant. Obviously. He was also deeply intimidating in the way only truly intelligent people could be—effortlessly so, like he didn’t notice the way the rest of the world bent around his mind.

He wasn’t cruel, not at all, but there was something about him that made your pulse skip whenever he turned to you with a question, something about the way he spoke in low, thoughtful tones, his hands always busy with some piece of machinery or scribbling formulas on the glass board like his thoughts couldn’t be contained by paper.

You’d been selected from a pool of thousands—won the LUMINA International Science Initiative, a fellowship that granted a single spot, once a year, to shadow one of the world’s leading innovators.

You never expected to get it. You’d submitted your proposal last-minute, half-convinced it was too ambitious, too naive. But something about it must’ve caught their attention—maybe your hypothesis on temporal field distortions, maybe the way you phrased it like a love letter to curiosity itself. Either way, it landed you here, standing just inside the threshold of the Baxter Building’s most secured lab, wearing your best skirt and your favorite boots, heart thudding in your chest like a metronome gone mad.

You adjusted your grip on your notebook and cleared your throat softly, the sound swallowed by the lab’s cavernous quiet. “Morning,” you offered, voice smaller than you meant, eyes sweeping the room for him—half-hoping he wasn’t here yet, half-hoping he was.

From behind one of the massive monitors, you heard the gentle clink of metal, followed by a low voice.

“You’re early.”

You turned and there he was, sleeves rolled to his forearms, collarbone peeking where his lab coat had come undone. His hair was tousled, like he’d been up for hours already, running his hands through it between equations. There was graphite smudged on his wrist, and a faint streak of oil down one thumb, and somehow that made him look even more untouchable. He glanced over his shoulder at you, then down at your notebook.

“More scribbles?” he asked, one corner of his mouth lifting—not quite a smile, but close enough to make your chest flutter.

You nodded, holding it out. “A few questions from last night. I kept thinking about the energy dispersion curve in the 5-D field model, and—well. It didn’t make sense that it plateaued. Not at those values.”

He took the notebook, flipping through the pages like he was reading a novel written in his own handwriting, then looked up at you with a sliver of something warmer in his gaze.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I think you might be the first person to ever challenge that curve. Everyone else just accepted it.”

You blinked. “Oh. I—didn’t mean to be... disrespectful or anything.”

“You weren’t.” He looked back at the page, his brow furrowing like he was genuinely considering your notes. “You’re just... asking the right questions.”

And the way he said that—asking the right questions—it made your cheeks heat, made your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag like you were suddenly fifteen again, flustered and awkward and unsure of what to say next, even though you were here because you belonged here, even though you were brilliant in your own quiet way.

He glanced at you again, slower this time, eyes scanning your face like he was watching a theory unfold in real time, and said, “Let’s run it. See if you’re right.” Just like that, like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean the world.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

Hours passed, though you barely noticed them. What started as a single equation quickly unraveled into an entire evening of hypotheses and recalibrations, the two of you moving around each other in this strange, quiet rhythm—typing, adjusting, scribbling, calculating, retrying, failing, fixing, retrying again.

The room had fallen into that kind of sacred stillness where every noise felt sharper—the whir of machines, the scratch of pencils, the occasional creak of the stool beneath you. Every time a result came back wrong, you’d lean in beside him and try again. Every time it came back right, your shoulders would touch, just barely, and you’d both say nothing.

And then it happened again—casual, effortless—Reed stretched.

This time, to grab his phone from across the room without moving from his chair, his arm extending impossibly far and elegant, fingers curling around the device with that same practiced ease, like it was just another part of his body responding to his mind. You watched it happen with that same quiet awe you always did, eyes following the length of his arm as it retracted, as he settled back into himself like it hadn’t been strange at all, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t even the stretch itself, not really—it was the nonchalance, the way he didn’t even think about it. But you did. You thought about it too much.

You were still thinking about it when he glanced at his screen, a quiet frown flickering across his face.

“It’s eight already,” he murmured, thumbing through a text. “We’ve been here all day.”

You blinked, surprised by the time, and then watched as his expression shifted—something soft and faintly guilty tugging at the edge of his mouth as he read whatever had been sent to him.

“Sue made dinner,” he said after a beat, sighing, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand like he hadn’t sat down for a proper meal in days. “Guess I should…”

He trailed off as he stood, the chair sliding back with a scrape, and something in your chest twisted—tight and unexpected. Not sharp enough to hurt, but deep enough to notice.

You weren’t sure if it was jealousy, exactly, but there was something inside you that ached a little at the thought of him leaving. At the thought of him sitting across from someone else, in a warm apartment somewhere above the city, eating food someone else had made for him, laughing over things that had nothing to do with lab results or radiation curves or the way your hands always trembled just slightly when he got too close.

You didn’t realize you were staring until he glanced back at you with one brow arched, curious, amused, his coat slung half over his arm and a faint smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Something wrong?” he asked, voice low and too steady, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear you say it.

“No,” you said quickly, too quickly, the word tripping over itself on your tongue. “No, nothing.”

He looked at you for a long second, long enough that your skin prickled under the weight of it, his eyes steady and a little too knowing, like he could see past your flustered expression and straight into the chaos of your thoughts. Then—he chuckled, soft and brief, like the sound had slipped out before he could stop it, low and warm and close enough to make your pulse stutter.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, not in disapproval, but something more bemused—like he found you endlessly curious and had all the time in the world to figure you out.

You ducked your head, the heat rising in your cheeks again, blooming in a flush that you tried to suppress with a tight little smile, your fingers worrying the corner of your notebook as though it could ground you, steady you, hide the fact that your heart was now pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears.

Then his voice came again, low and coaxing, that soft velvet drawl of someone deeply used to being the smartest man in the room—“Come on,” he said, “what’s going on in that brilliant mind?”

And you should’ve lied. You should’ve laughed it off, said something safe, something neutral, something clever and unassuming and appropriately scientific. But your brain had been wandering all week—had been drifting there over and over again, uninvited, unwelcome, inappropriate, gnawing at the edges of your curiosity in the quiet moments between experiments.

You’d tried not to think about it, tried not to let your gaze linger when he stretched, tried not to imagine what else could stretch, how far, how much, how deeply.

And somehow—somehow—it slipped out of your mouth before your brain had a chance to intercept it, just a whisper of a thought spoken aloud, soft and breathless and too curious to be innocent.

“Does everything stretch?”

The silence that followed was instant and absolute.

You heard it in the way the machines kept humming but your breath caught.

You felt it in the way Reed’s eyes snapped to yours, too quickly, like he wasn’t expecting that.

And you saw it—oh, you saw it—in the way he froze, the way the lines at the corners of his mouth shifted, lips parting slightly like he was about to speak but couldn’t quite remember how.

Your eyes widened almost immediately, your whole body locking in mortified horror, hands flying up to your face as if that could undo what you’d just said, as if that could pull the words back into your throat and shove them into the void where they belonged.

“Oh my God—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that, I swear—I swear, it was just—I was talking about your arm, I mean your body—not your—oh God, not your body body, I meant your abilities, like biologically—scientifically—I’m so sorry—”

You were rambling now, barely breathing between the words, voice growing higher and faster with every sentence, and he was still just looking at you, still absolutely silent, like you’d short-circuited him and he was trying not to let it show. His expression hadn’t changed much—but his eyes were different now, darker maybe, or maybe just sharper, like a wire had pulled taut somewhere beneath his usually-calm exterior.

Then—finally—he blinked.

And his mouth twitched.

Not a smirk. Not quite. But close. Very, very close.

“Everything?” he echoed softly, voice rough around the edges like it had dropped an octave without permission.

You wanted to melt through the floor.

“Forget I said anything,” you mumbled, practically squeaked, your hands halfway up your face now, notebook clutched uselessly against your chest like a shield made of paper and shame.

But he didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease. He just looked at you for another long moment, like he was tucking the question away in some private drawer of his mind, like he was considering it—you—carefully.

And then he said, his voice quiet and unreadable. “Some things stretch more than others.”

He said it with the same offhand ease he might’ve used to mention the weather or the results of an equation, as if the words weren’t heavy with meaning, as if they didn’t land like a struck tuning fork in the center of your chest and hum there, low and electric. And then—just like that—he glanced at the time again, slipped his phone into the inside pocket of his coat, his fingers moving with quiet efficiency, and looked toward the door without even a flicker of hesitation in his expression.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, voice smooth and calm, like it had all been nothing—your question, his answer, the unbearable silence that followed—like he hadn’t just reduced you to a trembling, wide-eyed mess with five words and a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

And then he turned and walked out, his footsteps steady and unhurried, as though the entire moment hadn’t happened, as though he hadn’t noticed the way your breath had caught or your lips had parted slightly or the way your fingers had curled around your notebook like you were holding onto it for dear life. The door eased shut behind him with a soft, final click, and the silence that followed felt far too loud, as if the air itself had been holding its breath and now didn’t know what to do with the tension left behind.

You stood there for a moment, completely still, eyes fixed on the door like he might come back—might say something, might clarify or laugh or admit that yes, that had been what you thought it was, that you weren’t imagining the way his gaze had sharpened, the subtle shift in his voice, the pause before he’d answered like he was trying to decide how honest he wanted to be.

But the door stayed shut. The lab was quiet. And your face was burning.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

The next morning, you thought about quitting.

No—worse—you thought about being removed, escorted out of the lab with quiet, professional shame, the faculty committee shaking their heads at the girl who couldn’t keep her thoughts scientific. You’d spent the entire night twisted in sheets and mortification, staring at the ceiling of your tiny dorm room with cheeks that wouldn’t stop burning and hands that kept curling into fists against your pillow, your mind looping the same sentence over and over like a taunt.

Does everything stretch?

It had sounded so much worse in hindsight. In your head, it was a purely biological question—curiosity, theoretical, relevant. But the moment it left your lips, soft and shy and tilted with unintended suggestion, you’d felt the way it landed. The way his eyes had flickered. The way his voice had dropped just a hair lower. The way he’d looked at you after.

And then he walked out like it was nothing.

Which somehow made it worse.

So when you walked into the lab that morning, notebook clutched to your chest like a shield, heart crawling up the back of your throat with every step, you were fully prepared for disaster—for tension, awkwardness, maybe even polite dismissal. But he was already there, of course he was—leaning over one of the central consoles with his sleeves rolled, hair still rumpled from sleep, lips pursed slightly in thought as he ran through some new readout, a mug half-full of black coffee resting near his elbow.

And when he glanced up at you?

Everything was... fine.

He offered you a brief, familiar nod, the same one he always did, and then gestured to a screen without so much as a hint of discomfort, as if the night before had been a dream, as if you hadn’t asked the most humiliating question of your life and then spiraled into a dimension of shame he probably discovered himself.

You blinked, stunned by the ease of it, by the way he moved through the morning without even a trace of tension, without a single flinch. It was—professional. Cordial. Kind.

And strangely, that grounded you.

The day unfolded slowly, then steadily—small victories, clarified hypotheses, new data sets—and your body slowly began to relax into the rhythm you’d started to love, the silent teamwork of minds that trusted each other. And even though he hadn’t said anything beyond the work, even though the stretch of time passed with nothing but research and updates, you caught yourself looking again—watching the way his hands moved, the way he’d lean into the screen, the way he thought so deeply with his whole body, and the way you were beginning to understand him in ways that had nothing to do with science.

It wasn’t until late afternoon, when the sun outside had dipped low enough to cast long gold shadows across the lab floor, that he finally spoke without referencing an equation.

“Sue was asking about you,” he said casually, eyes still on his screen, voice calm as if he didn’t know he’d just sent your stomach tumbling.

You blinked, startled. “Oh?”

He nodded once, the motion subtle. “Think I’ve been talking too much about how smart you are.”

Your breath caught in your throat and then returned all at once in a rush of heat to your face. You looked away, your lips parting slightly as your blush bloomed across your cheeks, creeping down your neck, the words lingering like sunlight on your skin.

“She wants to meet you,” he continued, finally glancing over at you with that steady, unreadable gaze that always made you feel a little exposed, a little unsteady.

“Really?” you asked, blinking up at him, your voice too soft, too unsure. “I—I mean, I’d be honored.”

He chuckled, quiet and amused, and God, it made your heart stutter.

“Tonight?” he asked, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Your lips parted again. “Tonight?” you echoed, because your brain was clearly still catching up.

He tilted his head, expression flickering with something close to amusement. “Unless you’re busy,” he said smoothly. “Or unless you were planning on camping out here all night again, trying to crack the wavefield inversion curve without sleeping or eating—because that does sound like you.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, the sound escaping like a sigh, soft and a little breathless, and he smiled—genuine and rare, the kind that made your knees feel unsteady and your chest warm.

You shook your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly too shy to meet his eyes. “No,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not busy.”

“Good,” he said, his smile deepening just slightly. “I’ll see you for dinner then.”

And with that, he turned back to his screen, the moment slipping away like mist, but the warmth of it stayed, curling low and steady in your chest.

You were going to dinner. With Reed Richards. And Sue Storm.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

The Baxter Building stood tall and impossible in the heart of the city, its sleek, glinting frame catching the last of the golden evening light like it had been plucked from some distant future and set gently down in Manhattan.

The security in the lobby had let you through without question, as if they’d been expecting you, as if your name already belonged in the same breath as Reed Richards and Sue Storm, and that thought alone made your stomach twist with something between awe and panic as you stepped into the elevator.

It was silent inside—sterile and smooth, the walls a brushed metal that reflected the softest version of your silhouette back at you, almost dreamlike. You stared at your reflection for a moment, adjusting the bottle of wine you held with both hands, the paper bag crinkling slightly beneath your fingertips.

You’d picked it up on the way here after spending a full thirty minutes in the wine shop pretending to know what pairs with intellectual dinner parties hosted by superheroes. You smoothed the front of your dress—a soft, modest thing that you’d chosen carefully, something that felt like you, but maybe a little prettier, a little more delicate than usual, your lips painted just faintly, enough to make you feel like you were trying without looking like you were trying.

You exhaled slowly, barely noticing the way the elevator glided up without a sound, your heartbeat louder than anything around you. Your thoughts raced, of course they did—what if it was too much? What if you shouldn’t have come? What if he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, that subtle curve of his voice when he said see you at dinner, the glint in his eye, the way his attention had lingered for just a moment too long?

The elevator chimed softly.

The doors opened.

And then— There he was.

Reed stood just inside the threshold, one hand braced casually on the edge of the doorway, the other slipping his phone into his back pocket like he’d only just finished checking something, his sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, collarbone peeking slightly where his top button had been left undone, no tie, no lab coat—just a simple, perfectly tailored shirt that made your brain stutter for half a beat.

His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it absentmindedly more than once, and there was a tiny streak of ink or maybe graphite on his knuckle that hadn’t been washed off completely.

It was Reed, but not the version of him you’d grown used to seeing in the lab, not the hyper-focused, brilliant blur of intellect you worked beside every day—this Reed looked like he’d been waiting. For you.

His eyes moved over you slowly—once, all the way down and back up again, not rushed, not obvious, but deliberate enough that you felt it everywhere, like heat pressing into the skin of your chest and the backs of your knees, your fingers tightening instinctively around the bottle you were holding.

He didn’t say anything at first, just quirked the corner of his mouth into something halfway between a smirk and a smile, soft but amused, his gaze still lingering just a little too long.

“You clean up well,” he said finally, voice lower than usual, not teasing exactly—more like he was confessing something he hadn’t meant to say aloud.

Your mouth parted slightly, but your voice caught, and when you finally managed to speak, it came out soft and a little breathless. “I—brought wine.”

He glanced down at the bottle, then back at you, his smile deepening just enough to make your heart skip. “Dangerously overqualified,” he murmured, stepping back to let you in. “Smart and thoughtful. Sue’s going to love you.”

You stepped past him into the apartment, the warmth of the space wrapping around you instantly, the scent of dinner and city lights and him curling at the edge of your senses, and even as you tried to focus on your breathing, on your posture, on not tripping in your kitten heels, you could still feel the echo of his eyes on your skin, like he hadn’t really stopped looking.

The apartment unfolded around you like a page in some impossibly curated design magazine, only softer, warmer, more lived-in than anything artificial—clean, modern lines met rich textures, brushed steel softened by warm walnut floors and deep navy accents that glowed golden under the cascade of low, amber-hued lighting.

One entire wall was glass, and beyond it, the Manhattan skyline burned softly against the horizon, city lights just starting to glitter like distant stars, and even the air inside smelled expensive and comforting—like slow-cooked herbs and something faintly sweet.

You were still catching your breath, still clutching the wine like a lifeline, when you heard a voice float in from down the hall—clear, warm, and unmistakably female.

“There she is.”

Sue Storm walked into view like she had been sculpted from light itself—tall and impossibly graceful, wrapped in soft neutral fabrics that draped just right, her golden hair falling in loose waves that framed her face perfectly, her eyes a crystalline blue that held a kind of sharpness you immediately respected.

She was breathtaking, in that way women are when they know who they are, and the moment she looked at you, her whole expression softened with something kind and curious and real.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said with a small smile, her voice smooth like honey stirred into tea, her gaze never once breaking from yours.

“Hi,” you breathed, the word escaping before you could shape it into anything more eloquent. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

She waved you off with a flick of her manicured fingers, as if the formality embarrassed her. “Please,” she said with a light laugh, stepping closer. “The way my husband talks about you? I’m the one who’s honored.”

And you blushed so hard you felt it in your ears, your whole body warming beneath the soft light, fingers tightening just slightly around the neck of the bottle as you dipped your head in modest disbelief, not quite sure if you should laugh or hide.

Reed, who had stepped away to adjust the music or maybe just give you a moment, said nothing, but you felt the weight of his glance again—the quiet satisfaction in the corners of his mouth like this was exactly what he wanted: you here, now, nervous but luminous, admired and welcomed.

“Come in,” Sue insisted gently, her hand brushing your arm in a way that grounded you immediately. “Dinner’s almost ready. I made way too much food—he said you don’t eat much, but I never trust him when he says that. He’s never once finished a plate himself.”

You smiled, heart still beating a little too fast, and followed her deeper into the space, the sound of your shoes soft against the hardwood, the city glowing quietly beyond the windows as if watching you take your first steps into something bigger than an internship—something warmer, more dangerous, and far more personal.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

Dinner was lovely—elegant but warm, the kind of meal that felt intimate without trying, served at a long polished table that glowed honey-gold under the overhead lights, the city sparkling just beyond the glass like a living mural.

You sat across from them, Reed to your left, Sue across from you, and despite the tight coil of nerves you’d carried into the evening, it was… comfortable.

Sue had a way of making you feel like you belonged, like you weren’t just a guest in the home of two of the most brilliant minds on the planet, but someone worth sitting at their table, someone they genuinely wanted to know.

You found yourself watching them more than you meant to—Sue leaning toward him with quiet laughter, Reed murmuring something back without looking up from his wine glass, the two of them moving in the kind of rhythm that only came from years of intimacy and quiet understanding. And still, as you watched them, something bloomed low and warm in your stomach—not jealousy, exactly, but a kind of quiet ache, a fascination that hummed beneath your skin, a longing that had less to do with their relationship and more to do with him.

You were still chasing the thread of that thought when Sue turned to you again, eyes bright with interest.

“So,” she said, “how did you get interested in all of this?”

You blinked, startled out of your reverie, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear with a shy smile. “Well,” you began softly, glancing down at your plate before meeting her gaze again, “ever since I was a kid, I just… I always wanted to understand how the world worked. The math, the movement, the rules. I remember watching the stars and thinking—that’s what I want to learn. That’s what I want to be part of.”

Sue offered you a warm smile, nodding in that gentle, encouraging way that made you feel like your words mattered, like they weren’t small or naïve or too eager. “Well,” she said, “it’s always nice seeing young people interested in this kind of work—especially a fellow…” she paused, grinning as she reached for her glass, “…girl genius.”

You laughed softly, cheeks warm, about to reply with something awkward and grateful and probably too modest—when it happened.

You felt it.

Unmistakable.

A hand. Large, warm, and undeniably real, sliding gently across your thigh under the table.

Your heart stopped. Your breath caught somewhere high in your chest, your eyes flickering toward Reed so quickly you barely caught Sue sipping her wine across from you. But he didn’t look at you—not exactly. His gaze remained calm and forward, his profile composed and entirely unreadable as he took a slow sip of his wine and then glanced up at Sue, his hand still resting firmly on your leg.

“She’s brilliant,” he said casually, his voice smooth and even, like he was commenting on the weather, like he wasn’t currently touching you from across the table while sitting next to his wife.

You sat frozen, pulse thundering in your ears, body rigid but electrified, your fingers tightening ever so slightly around the stem of your glass as you tried to focus, to breathe, to not move.

“She corrected me the other day about a flux equation I wrote in ’04,” he continued, eyes finally drifting to meet yours—and holding there, steady and direct, a silent dare written behind his calm expression. “She was right, too.”

Sue laughed, clearly delighted. “Good. God knows someone needs to keep you in check.”

You could barely hear her. Could barely focus on anything except the heat of Reed’s hand, the way it pressed gently into the top of your thigh, just enough to let you know it was real, just enough to make your stomach twist with something hot and shivery and shamefully thrilling.

And then—his hand moved.

Not in that subtle, polite way you might’ve been able to ignore or convince yourself had been some kind of misunderstanding, not a graze or a twitch or something incidental—but deliberate, slow, intentional, his palm sliding higher, slipping beneath the hem of your dress in a single fluid motion that felt so impossibly confident it made your entire body lock up at once.

The heat of his skin against your thigh stole the breath from your lungs, and when his fingers skimmed the delicate edge of your underwear, just barely brushing the fabric, you felt your heart climb straight into your throat and stay there.

You almost choked on your wine.

The glass halted halfway to your lips, your hands trembling just enough for the crystal to click against your teeth, and you let out a strange, stifled sound—half gasp, half cough—your eyes wide, your posture going ramrod straight as you struggled to swallow the panic and arousal crawling up your spine in tandem.

“You alright?” Sue asked gently, glancing up from her plate with concern etched between her brows, the picture of warmth and kindness and everything undeserving of what was happening beneath her dinner table.

“Yes,” you stammered, too quickly, the syllable snapping out of your mouth like it had been fired from a slingshot, your cheeks flushed a deep, telltale red as you nodded a little too hard. “I’m fine. Just—went down the wrong way.”

Across from you, Reed glanced up from his glass at the sound of your voice, his expression calm—no, worse than calm—amused, like he was enjoying watching you fall apart in real time, like he was studying the way you squirmed and flushed and fidgeted with quiet, academic satisfaction. His fingers moved—barely a shift, just enough to press the pad of his thumb along the inside of your thigh, skimming the thin lace of your panties with a featherlight drag that made your vision blur for a moment, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek to stop a sound from escaping.

Sue kept talking, mercifully, unaware of the silent war happening beneath the table, and you tried to nod along, tried to pretend you were still following the story she was telling about something at the foundation gala last week, but Reed’s hand was still moving—so slowly, so wickedly gentle, fingers drifting along the edge of the fabric like he was memorizing it, teasing it, learning every soft line of you with nothing more than a ghost of touch and that insufferable, unreadable look in his eyes.

You were blushing so fiercely now you were sure it had reached your chest, heat blooming down your neck like a fever, your knees squeezing together reflexively beneath the table as your breathing turned shallow, chest rising and falling in a way that did not feel casual anymore.

“Are you hot, honey?” Sue asked suddenly, concern returning to her voice, her eyes flickering to your cheeks. “A house full of so-called geniuses and we still haven’t figured out how to fix the aircon properly. I’ll be back—I’ll check the thermostat.”

And before you could answer—before you could find any response at all—she stood, placing her napkin neatly beside her plate and disappearing down the hall with a rustle of fabric and the click of her heels.

The door hadn’t even shut all the way before Reed finally spoke, low and calm and just for you, his fingers still resting against the soft, soaked curve of you beneath your panties.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, voice a dark, honey-dipped whisper that sent shivers straight through your bones. “Don’t stop now.”

“Reed—” you stammered, your voice cracking under the strain of your own name trembling on your lips, barely more than a whisper, a breath caught halfway between panic and disbelief, your thighs squeezing together out of instinct, out of desperation, out of need you didn’t yet know how to name. “What are you—”

He didn’t lean in.

He didn’t move closer.

He didn’t even blink.

He simply sat there, on the opposite side of the table, one elbow resting near his wine glass, the other arm subtly stretched beneath the surface like a quiet secret unraveling in the dark, and his voice, when it came, was soft and low and steady.

“Tell me to stop.”

And as he said it—calm, impossible, infuriatingly composed—you felt it: the cool air against your skin, your panties slipping down your thighs with a slow, torturous grace, peeled away by a hand that wasn’t even near you, stretched from across the table, precise and gentle and unspeakably brazen. The fabric caught just slightly at your knees before his fingers nudged it past, and you sat there frozen, wide-eyed, red-faced, with your dress pooled neatly over your lap and nothing beneath it now but heat and humiliation and the thundering pulse between your legs.

“Reed—” you breathed again, barely able to shape the word, and his gaze met yours in that maddening, quiet way—no urgency, no shame, only that still, measured calm that made your insides tremble, as if he was watching a reaction unfold under glass.

And then—

Sue's heels clicked softly on the polished floor as she entered the room again, moving with that effortless, elegant grace as she crossed behind you and returned to her seat.

“That should fix it,” she said lightly as she sat, her smile warm and unbothered, her tone casual as if nothing had changed in the few moments she’d been gone.

You turned toward her, your face flaming, your smile shaky and paper-thin as you tried to find your voice again, tried to stitch together whatever pieces of yourself hadn’t yet dissolved under Reed’s hand, which now rested high on your bare thigh like it belonged there.

“Thank you,” you managed softly, the words nearly catching on the breath that refused to sit still in your chest, and somehow, impossibly, you held her gaze.

And across from you, Reed Richards—calm, brilliant, monstrous in his control—simply took another sip of wine.

You tried to focus, truly you did—on Sue, on her words, on the soft clinking of silverware and the gentle thrum of jazz somewhere in the background—but all of it became nothing more than a blur of light and noise the moment his fingers moved again, slow and purposeful, the stretch of his arm impossibly seamless beneath the table, as if he could command every tendon, every muscle, with surgical precision.

He didn’t even shift in his seat, didn’t look down, didn’t so much as twitch, and yet—you felt him, truly felt him now, his fingers slipping between your thighs with exquisite control, brushing over your bare, trembling core with a deliberate slowness that made you forget how to hold your breath steady.

And then—he pushed.

Just one finger at first, and it was too much, because it was him, because it was stretched impossibly long and thick, curling up with inhuman ease, reaching deeper than anyone had ever dared, pressing into you like he already knew exactly where to go, what you needed, like he’d studied your anatomy and had all the answers memorized.

Your thighs tightened automatically, knees trembling under the weight of holding in a sound you very nearly let out, and your hands clenched into your lap, the wine glass beside you forgotten, your whole body alight with the unbearable tension of being touched like this—open, pulsing, absolutely undone—and doing nothing about it.

And then—

“Why don’t you explain to Sue what we went over the other day,” Reed said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just buried his finger inside you under the dinner table, as if he wasn’t slowly crooking it up to find that sweet, aching spot that made your stomach twist and your eyes nearly flutter shut.

You froze.

“What?” you whispered, blinking at him.

He offered a slight tilt of his head, his eyes resting on yours with a look of calm expectation—amusement, even—and then shifted his gaze to Sue, who was looking at you with the kindest, most open smile, entirely oblivious.

“The resonance collapse formula,” Reed said helpfully, voice steady. “She corrected one of my assumptions about it earlier this week. She’s sharper than she lets on.”

He curled his finger again.

And it took everything in you not to cry out.

You blinked rapidly, your lips parting around a breath that wasn’t quite a word, trying to remember the theory, the math, the basic principles of language, but all you could feel was the stretch inside you, the thick, gentle press of him moving in slow, unrelenting circles, coaxing you open without haste, without apology, without shame.

“I—” you started, your voice embarrassingly thin, “we—uh, we talked about—about the resonance curve failing at the threshold of—”

He added a second finger.

Your breath caught so hard you coughed, the burn of it tight in your chest, and you reached for your water like it might ground you, like the coolness of the glass could balance out the unbearable heat pulsing between your legs.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Sue asked again, concerned.

You forced a smile, shaking your head quickly, eyes wet with the effort to look normal, to act normal, when Reed’s fingers were pushing deeper now, stretching you in a way that was obscene, careful, perfect, and somehow managing to keep the rhythm slow and steady, barely moving, just enough to make you drip helplessly onto his knuckles under the table while you tried to describe a physics principle with your body unraveling second by second.

“I’m okay,” you managed to whisper, voice too soft, too high.

Reed’s thumb brushed upward. You jolted. He smiled—just slightly.

“You were saying?” he asked gently.

You wanted to cry. Or scream. Or crawl under the table and never come out.

Instead, you looked up, cheeks flushed, throat tight, and murmured, “We adjusted the decay rate curve based on the harmonic threshold failing beyond point-six-three, and—and recalibrated the control conditions to reflect a more dynamic waveform—”

His fingers pressed up, deep, and you gasped—but you made it sound like awe, like wonder.

Sue beamed at you. “That’s amazing.”

You blinked, barely nodding, and Reed—still untouched himself, still seated like a man entirely at ease—just gave you the faintest smile across the table, like he was proud of you. Like you had passed some unspeakable test.

You weren’t sure when it changed—when Reed’s fingers, once so slow and exploratory, shifted their rhythm, no longer teasing but deliberate, their movement suddenly quickening beneath the tablecloth, each stroke firmer, deeper, more precise, curling up into that one devastating place inside you with the kind of methodical expertise that only a man like him could possess.

His thumb pressed again and again against your swollen clit in quiet, unrelenting circles, and it was obscene, unbelievably obscene, because he was still sitting across from you, back straight, shoulders calm, expression thoughtful and polite as Sue continued her story—talking about an ambassador, or a charity gala, or maybe a speech she gave—and you couldn’t hear a single word of it.

Because you were about to come.

Right there. At their dinner table.

Your thighs were trembling beneath the fabric of your dress, your body pulled taut like a string about to snap, nerves alight and burning in every limb, and you could feel it rising, fast and hot, building in your belly like a storm, spreading up through your spine with every practiced motion of his hand—stretched from across the table, long and dexterous and hidden beneath the soft, quiet clink of silverware.

You were soaked, dripping, pulsing around his fingers, and he knew. Of course he knew. He could feel every flutter, every desperate little squeeze your body gave him, and when he looked at you—really looked at you—his eyes burned with a satisfaction so soft it felt like praise.

You tried to hold it back. God, you tried. Your nails dug into the fabric of your skirt, your breathing shallow and uneven, your lashes fluttering as you ducked your head and bit into the back of your hand, trying to hide the sound, trying to bury the moan that threatened to rip itself from your throat. You were right on the edge, hovering there, helpless, when—

DING!

The sound of the oven’s timer rang out sharply through the kitchen, perfectly, cruelly timed—at the exact second you broke apart, your body shuddering around his fingers as the climax hit you so hard and fast you saw stars behind your eyes. You muffled the moan with your hand, trembling violently in your chair as you faked a cough so sharp it made Sue look up, concerned, just as she was standing to go check the dessert.

“Poor thing,” she said sweetly, already halfway out of the room, completely unaware of what had just happened right beneath her nose. “Let me go grab the cobbler—Reed, didn’t I tell you to turn on the vent fan for the oven? It smells like caramelized sugar in here.”

You barely managed to nod, your breath still stuttering in your chest, the taste of your own bitten-down moan lingering in your mouth like smoke, your vision wet and dizzy as you tried to collect yourself—but it was impossible, completely impossible, because Reed was still watching you, still calm, still composed, still seated like nothing had happened at all, as though his fingers hadn’t just coaxed your orgasm from you with the kind of precision that only a man with endless patience and supernatural reach could possess.

And then—he moved.

His hand, the one he had just pulled back from beneath your dress, rose slowly from beneath the table, casual, unhurried, and with the sort of smooth detachment that made your blood run hot all over again. You watched—helpless, horrified, entranced—as he brought his fingers to his mouth, his expression unreadable but his gaze never leaving yours, and then—

He licked them.

Just the tips. Just a quiet, deliberate motion—his tongue flicking out to drag across the pads of his fingers with unbearable slowness, like a man tasting something rare and sacred, like someone who savored knowledge, savored reactions, savored you—and your breath caught so hard it made your throat ache, your hands clenched in your lap, body still trembling beneath the table.

And that was the exact moment Sue walked back in.

The tray in her hands held a golden, bubbling dish still steaming at the edges, a pitcher of vanilla sauce tucked beside it, and she moved with the same easy grace she always had, placing the dish gently in the center of the table as the scent of caramelized fruit and butter filled the space.

“Was the sauce that good?” she asked with a light laugh, glancing over just in time to see her husband finishing his little motion, his fingers slipping from his mouth like it was nothing at all. “You just licked your fingers like you hadn’t eaten in days.”

Your entire body tensed.

Reed—calm, collected, horrifyingly composed—didn’t blink. He didn’t flinch. He simply tilted his head toward her, then turned back to you, his eyes locking with yours across the table, his gaze heavy with meaning, with memory, with the weight of what he’d just done to you, and said, without a flicker of shame—

“Delicious.”

Your stomach dropped. Your cheeks flamed. You looked away instantly, your eyes darting toward your lap, toward your empty plate, toward anywhere that wasn’t him, your skin hot and crawling with mortification, your thighs pressed tight together under the table, still slick and tender and sensitive as hell, and now—now you had to eat dessert.

With him. With her. With the taste of your orgasm still on his mouth.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

You said your goodbyes to Sue as sweetly and shakily as you could manage, your voice still thin and breathless from the quiet ruin Reed had left you in, the remnants of your orgasm still echoing in your body like a pulse you couldn’t calm, and still—still—you smiled, you nodded, you played the part of the polite, well-mannered girl who had not just come in silence at the dinner table. Sue hugged you lightly at the door, warm and soft and lovely, thanking you for coming and saying how nice it was to meet you, her words kind and sincere, her smile so genuine it made you ache.

“We’ll have to do this again,” she said gently, her voice carrying no suspicion, no awareness, only the comfort of a woman who’d welcomed you into her home and truly meant it.

“It was an honor,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, eyes lowered, fingers nervously wrapped around the strap of your bag, heart pounding loud and unrelenting in your chest.

Reed appeared behind you then, as if summoned by the rhythm of your exit, and without saying anything, without asking, he moved to walk you out, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back—a simple gesture, one that should’ve been harmless, innocent, but that felt anything but, especially after what those fingers had just done to you beneath a tablecloth in the dim golden light of a family dining room.

The door clicked shut behind the two of you, and the hallway beyond was quiet, cool, and still, a soft hum from the city beyond the glass, but the silence between you buzzed with something thicker, darker, more intimate than you could bear. He said nothing at first, only walked beside you with slow, unhurried steps, like the moment hadn’t already been branded into both your bodies, like he hadn’t watched you fall apart with your hand over your mouth while his wife got dessert.

At the door to the elevator, he stopped, and you turned toward him, still too flustered to meet his eyes, still trying to hold yourself together with trembling fingers and shallow breaths, your lashes lowered as you whispered, “Thank you for… dinner.”

His response came after a pause, his voice smooth, impossibly steady. “You were perfect.”

You froze—eyes flicking up, breath catching—and found him watching you with that same calm, unreadable expression, but there was something beneath it now, something warmer and darker and dangerous, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth that made your knees weaken all over again.

“Good girl,” he added softly, low enough that only you could hear it, and the elevator doors opened behind you with a soft ding, cool air spilling out into the hallway like a breeze that didn’t belong.

You stepped inside on trembling legs, unsure if you remembered how to breathe, and as the doors began to close, you looked back—just once—and there he was, standing exactly as he had before, his hands in his pockets, head tilted ever so slightly, still watching you, like you were a puzzle he couldn’t wait to take apart again.

And when the doors shut fully, sealing you into silence, your hand finally flew to your chest.

Because you had just survived dinner. Barely. And you weren’t sure you’d ever be the same again.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

let me know your thoughtssss

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reasonsforhope · 2 years ago

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Holy crap, I didn't think Biden would be able to get the Climate Corps established without Congress. This is SUCH fantastic news.

"After being thwarted by Congress, President Joe Biden will use his executive authority to create a New Deal-style American Climate Corps that will serve as a major green jobs training program.

In an announcement Wednesday, the White House said the program will employ more than 20,000 young adults who will build trails, plant trees, help install solar panels and do other work to boost conservation and help prevent catastrophic wildfires.

The climate corps had been proposed in early versions of the sweeping climate law approved last year but was jettisoned amid strong opposition from Republicans and concerns about cost.

Democrats and environmental advocacy groups never gave up on the plan and pushed Biden in recent weeks to issue an executive order authorizing what the White House now calls the American Climate Corps.

“After years of demonstrating and fighting for a Climate Corps, we turned a generational rallying cry into a real jobs program that will put a new generation to work stopping the climate crisis,” said Varshini Prakash, executive director of the Sunrise Movement, an environmental group that has led the push for a climate corps.

With the new corps “and the historic climate investments won by our broader movement, the path towards a Green New Deal is beginning to become visible,” Prakash said...

...Environmental activists hailed the new jobs program, which is modeled after the Civilian Conservation Corps, created in the 1930s by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, a Democrat, as part of the New Deal...

Lawmakers Weigh In

More than 50 Democratic lawmakers, including Massachusetts Sen. Ed Markey and New York Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, had also encouraged Biden to create a climate corps, saying in a letter on Monday that “the climate crisis demands a whole-of-government response at an unprecedented scale.”

The lawmakers cited deadly heat waves in the Southwest and across the nation, as well as dangerous floods in New England and devastating wildfires on the Hawaiian island of Maui, among recent examples of climate-related disasters.

Democrats called creation of the climate corps “historic” and the first step toward fulfilling the vision of the Green New Deal.

“Today President Biden listened to the (environmental) movement, and he delivered with an American Climate Corps,” a beaming Markey said at a celebratory news conference outside the Capitol.

“We are starting to turn the green dream into a green reality,” added Ocasio-Cortez, who co-sponsored the Green New Deal legislation with Markey four years ago.

“You all are changing the world,” she told young activists.

Program Details and Grant Deadlines

The initiative will provide job training and service opportunities to work on a wide range of projects, including restoring coastal wetlands to protect communities from storm surges and flooding; clean energy projects such as wind and solar power; managing forests to prevent catastrophic wildfires; and energy efficient solutions to cut energy bills for consumers, the White House said.

Creation of the climate corps comes as the Environmental Protection Agency launches a $4.6 billion grant competition for states, municipalities and tribes to cut climate pollution and advance environmental justice. The Climate Pollution Reduction Grants are funded by the 2022 climate law and are intended to drive community-driven solutions to slow climate change.

EPA Administrator Michael Regan said the grants will help “communities so they can chart their own paths toward the clean energy future.”

The deadline for states and municipalities to apply is April 1, with grants expected in late 2024. Tribes and territories must apply by May 1, with grants expected by early 2025."

-via Boston.com, September 21, 2023

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jjenthusee · 6 months ago

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Like Him

Pairing: AK!Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: What hurts more? The initial burn or what comes after?

A/N: IM BAAAACK and to celebrate i wanted to give u some soul ripping angst as i get back into writing again :D every time i write about AK jason i always think of my pooks @heavysighing-dreamyeyes 💐💐 i hope you all enjoyyyy

Tags: hurt/no comfort, ANGSTTT, warnings: description of injuries, scars

Word Count: 1.2k

Every step was agony. You felt every pull, every pinch, every tense muscle screaming at you to stop.

But you couldn’t risk it.

“Jason, please. Stop walking away from me.”

It was ironic. You are pleading with him to stop moving and to stop emotionally pushing you away. Now he was ignoring you completely.

You were locked away by his goons, tied to a chair for hours while your legs numbed, taking hit after hit to your face that had you dizzy and bruised.

You thought you completely lost it when your long dead friend reappeared to you as the crazed man taking over Gotham City.

It wouldn’t hurt to laugh hysterically after all that was revealed in the last two hours, but pain was keeping you awake and in reality.

You tried to walk behind him, stumbling and irritating the deep ache in your right leg.

Due to your injuries, speed wasn’t an option. Momentum was the real reason why you were still able to practically drag your leg forward. Feeling every streak of sweat prickle down your forehead, sticking your hair to your neck.

You tried to straighten your back, feeling your bones crack as you weakly adjusted to standing upright fully again.

“Look at me.” You spoke with as much precision as you could command your voice to. Trying to pair a steady voice to a feeble stance.

You felt yourself shake from the last remaining strength in your arms and legs as you continued to push a one-sided conversation with Jason.

It was jarring to think you were trying to talk to the Arkham Knight, the one person that was single handedly creating one of the worst nights in Gotham City you’ve had to endure. But you were also talking to your best friend, your boyish childhood savior turned trusted ally. It was a twisted struggle on how to reach out to him, trying to figure out who you were reaching out to.

“Jason—“

“Don’t call me that!” He yelled, the anger reddening his face as he turned his head to you. The visible “J” scarring his face turned to face you directly.

This was the Arkham Knight, the one commanding such a distasteful voice as he peered down at you. Embracing the military grade armor coating his skin.

The scarred skin surrounding the letter was appearing pinker the longer his rage was lingering.

“I am—not your enemy.” You hunched forward, choking rather than breathing in as you spoke while simultaneously trying to balance some of your weight off your weak leg. It hurt like hell as you clenched your jaw to the pain.

“You sound so much like him. I can’t stand to listen to you.” Jason turned his back to you, pacing forward. No visible scar catching your eyes.

“I am not Bruce.” You spit out, feeling blood mix in with the saliva in your mouth.

“‘Course not! But I’m going to fix what he’s done and if you are going to stand in my way, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to interrupt me ever again!” He turned so fast, you blinked as the “J” barely flashed before you, but you only saw his clear, spotless cheek, the side with no scar.

“You don’t mean that.” You exhaled, calmly closing your eyes as you held your side, careful to not press against your bruised ribs. Talking was already irritating them enough.

“What do you know?! You. Don’t. Know. Me. So, stop pretending like you do!”

“You know that’s not true. Ugh—“ You fell to your knee, unable to catch your fall as you banged it into the steel floor. Pain throbbed down to your foot. “It just sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, not me.” You groaned out, stubbornly not backing down. You may have been on the floor, but you felt higher than Jason was.

“I have nothing to prove, especially not to you.” Jason was ready to pull his opened helmet down, hoping to mask away his face, but it only looked like he was running away.

“Then why am I still not tied to the chair stained with my blood?! Why bother to untie me?” You yelled from your sprawled position, much too vulnerable, but you were heavily pressuring and facing the armored man with enough artillery to take your life away with a simple trigger.

“‘Cause you are useless to me.” Jason started to walk away again. No longer interested in your angry yells.

“It’s ‘cause I mean something to you, Jason!”

“Shut up!” Jason turned and pounded his feet to the ground as he ran back to you. He pulled out his handgun, directly aiming the sight onto you, the end of the barrel covering your entire left eye.

Your eyes widened as you looked into the endless abyss of what became of the Arkham Knight.

Watching his finger itch at the possibility of pressing further and making a choice he could never come back from.

But you saw it.

The look in his eyes.

You met his gaze directly as your eyes relaxed. Glancing at the visible side of Jason’s face with whatever sight you had left in your right eye. The deep “J” also in view. Burning your pupil as you stared up at him but never looking away.

“I never stopped asking Bruce what happened.” You gravely explained, each word ripping into your throat, croaking out every painful word as you watched his face contort the longer you spoke. “Every fucking day, I couldn’t believe that he never found you. I’ve hated Bruce everyday for it. I miss you, Jason.”

The pistol shook. You didn’t know if it was from your eyes watering or from his own emotions, but you leaned forward.

Your back hunched from the painful posture you endured while tied up. Pushing the ache aside, you pressed the muzzle of the gun on your face, your skin sensitive to how hot the barrel was from firing many rounds throughout the night.

The pain seared around your eye, burning into the skin underneath your bottom lashes and eyebrow.

If Jason was scarred, you also wanted to physically burn this night onto your skin.

“Don’t leave. I need you, Jason.” You cried. “You deserve to live. I want to help you live.”

The pain on your face stopped, leaving a burn behind. It pricked your skin relentlessly.

The salty tears burned even more.

As you melted into the floor, your legs hurting, your eye hurting, Jason let the weight of his handgun pull his hand down to his side. Gazing down to you as he watched the gash on your face form.

His stomach twisted severely. He wanted to puke at the brand he made. The same one he gave him.

You may have pushed your face into the muzzle, but Jason held it. He held every gravely second it was pressed into your undamaged, unmarked skin.

Everything he was not.

He reached out his armored hand, extending his fingers to almost touch the swollen skin, but as you hiccuped in a breath to get any air into your lungs, he pulled his hand away. Like he would be burned back.

Jason crouched down to you, getting his face closer to yours, so you could hear him loud and clear.

“Now we’re both mangled.” Jason whispered, watching every twitch of your face as his words split your heart. Feeling his own scar burn as he traced yours with his eyes before he lifted himself back to his full height to walk away. To finish what he started and to ruthlessly leave you ruined by his own words and not your injuries. “Never come back. I never want to see you again.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight x you #writing #dc

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livelaughloveluffy · 4 months ago

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be mine - a valentine's day special with the monster trio, ace, and law!!!

a/n: happy valentines day everyone!!! i figured since the only valentine i have in my life are all my lovely fictional men, i would write only the fluffiest of headcanons for you guys!!

nothing but fluff here 💗

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monkey d. luffy

-valentine's day morning you get woken up to luffy jumping on top of you, smothering you in kisses. he's so excited to give you the small presents he got for you (a hand-picked bouquet, a locket with his initials that nami helped him pick out, and of course, lots and lots of chocolate).

-while the captain isn't the biggest romantic in the world, he definitely had an idea of how he wanted to spend the day with you. and with some help from the crew, he was able to make it a reality. luffy excitedly led you towards nami's tangerine trees, where you spotted the cutest picnic overlooking the ocean. the two of you spend the day basking in the sun, feeding each other chocolate and other sweet treats, utterly intertwined with one another.

-quality time and physical touch are luffy's main love languages so he's expectedly clingy to you all day, not that you mind. endless cuddles are just a given. every once and a while you'll get lulled to sleep as luffy gently plays with your hair, leaving gentle but sloppy kisses on your collarbones.

roronoa zoro

-as much as he puts on the front of being a moody, uncaring guy, you know zoro has the softest place in his heart for you. but for valentines day, he at first treats it like just another day. no mention of it, almost as if he forgot.

-by early evening, it's hard to not get your feelings just a little bit hurt over the fact that zoro forgot valentines day. as you stand at the taffrail overlooking the vast ocean, you feel zoro's hand against the smalls of your back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he mumbles "c'mere... you really didn't think i forgot, did you?" as he leads you into the kitchen on the thousand sunny. opening the door to a candlelit dinner made up for two, and as your eyes well up in tears with shock, zoro places a gentle kiss on your cheek "happy valentines day"

-you couldn't help but swoon when you found out the swordsman had actually been taking private cooking lessons with sanji for months preparing for this surprise. the chef initially deemed the man to be utterly hopeless and offered to cook for the two of you, but zoro insisted he learned and did it himself.

black leg sanji

-it's literally no surprise at all that this man is a certified lover boy. you'll wake up to a room full of flowers, a love letter on your nightstand, and sanji hand-delivering his freshly made breakfast in bed for you.

-he makes the entire day about you and his devotion to you. you are utterly pampered. all meals eaten on the prettiest bedside tray, with a special place setting and flower decor. you have to practically beg the man to feed yourself, because he insisted that even lifting a spoon or fork was too much for you to do. he'll set up a candle-lit bubble bath for you in the evening and stay in the bathroom with you to massage your back and scrub your hair.

-and of course, sanji makes only the most extravagant dessert for you. you can tell the countless hours he spent in the kitchen, perfecting his recipe. and while he tries to stifle his yawns, you have to pull the hopless cook into bed with you. thanking him for everything he did, as you find your way into his arms, gentle brushing his bangs out of his face before you both eventually fall asleep together.

portgas d. ace

-ace is definitely the most casual out of all the boys about valentines day, however that doesn't mean its because of a lack of thought or effort into the day.

-the feeling of ace's large warm hand against your cheek as he leans in to give you a kiss on the forehead, the soft whisper of "happy valentines day, baby." reaches your ears. the two of you collectively agree that you'd both rather just spend the day cuddled up together. no view or restaurant would ever be more comfortable than ace's bare chest. his hand softly running up and down your back, occasionally tracing shapes and patterns into your skin.

-even though you mutually agreed to keep things casual, ace surprised you with the cutest gift he had been holding on to for you. a large bouquet of your favorite flowers, as well as a matching pair to his signature necklace and bracelet.

trafalgar water d. law

-like zoro, as much as law tries to downplay his affection for you, his sweet affection for you consistently shines through all his many actions.

-the captain of the heart pirates led you to believe that he was swamped with work on valentines day, and didn't have time for you, though he promised to celebrate over the weekend with you. so when you returned to your room to the largest bouquet of roses placed on your bed alongside your favorite candy, your heart skipped a beat. instead he had been busy planning a spa day for you. a warm bubble bath with flower petals scattered in it, handmade face masks, and of course, law, ready to pamper you.

-as the two of you are getting ready for bed, law hands you a thin notebook. it's only after reading it that you discover it's a long love letter he's been writing to you since the two of you had started dating. he'll try and brush off the gesture, his gruff voice interrupting your thanks with a grumbled "it's nothing..." as happy tears fall down your cheeks.

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tags ♡: @dindjarins1ut @chibinasuu @twiishaa @vamphoria @3v37773 @thepotatocatto @irethepotato @peachycat17 @dreamcastgirl99 @acesdiary @sanji-soup @lilypadmomentum @ermbehindyou @erose-0707 @suga-tofu @kcch-ns @hamhamhamtaro @adamsfanficstash @raddelusionaldive @sparkyvibes @certain-tragedies @roronoazoroswife @chillerkiller @teewon @sharycatx3 @phoehav @gracefulcargo51 @moonpri @thissaintjessi @sunshineagony

want to join the taglist? click here!!

enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

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angelesca · 4 months ago

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🌹🌹"weeeeeelcome to 'the worst dating show in hsr'! i'm your host, angelesca(no one cares🙄), and today, we'll find out who will be your lucky valentine's date this year, based on a crappy personality test~" ft. the victims candidates: mydei, dan heng, stelle n' caelus, and phainon!

rules:

for each question, decide which applies to you most - remember to keep tally of the letters you choose (will determine your valentine's date~)!

other notes:

total of 9 very unoriginal questions

five endings (who you end up with!💗) + a song to match from my trash playlist!

this is a post meant for fun! my headcanons will not line up with everyone else's, but hopefully i didn't do them too bad😭

mentions of hugging and kissing, but nothing beyond that😎

the game show is about to begin! lights, camera, action!

thanks for deciding to take part in the game! let's start with the first question:

Q1] pick a season!

a] winter

b] summer

c] spring

d] autumn

Q2] what's your fav food/most likely to eat?

a] noodle soup, phở, ramen

b] spicy, hot wings, mala hot pot, or foods with acquired tastes

c] cake, biscuits and tea/cookies and milk, parfaits

d] whatever is convenient, or you don't have much preference

Q3] plan your ideal valentine's date!

a] dining out, relaxing spa day/museum trip, shopping spree

b] amusement park, arcade, photo booths and cute accessories

c] going for a drive, stargazing, cosy picnic with fairylights

d] staying in, watching a film under blankets, playing boardgames

Q4] choose a valentine's gift!

a] flowers and chocolates

b] stuffed animal

c] jewellery

d] handwritten poem/letter

Q5] what's your fav trope out of these?

a] forbidden love/star-crossed love

b] childhood friends to lovers/soulmates

c] rivals (or enemies) to lovers/opposites attract

d] fake dating/workplace romance

Q6] pick an ideal love language for your partner!

a] words of affirmation

b] gifting

c] physical touch or acts of service

d] quality time

Q7] what are the most important qualities you look for in a partner?

a] outgoing, flirty, romantic!

b] quirky, humorous, spontaneous!

c] headstrong, loyal, protective!

d] intelligent, calm, reliable!

Q8] there's a pink cupcake on the table. how do you eat it? (help im running out of ideas)

a] the conventional way, unwrapping it and using your hands to eat. nothing fancy

b] twist it in half and stack it so you can eat it like a burger

c] with a knife and fork, or chopsticks, anything to not make a mess

d] remove the frosting and eat just the cake, or eating them separately

Q9] lastly, pick a cheesy and cringey pick-up line! (that i totally didn't steal from the internet)

a] "remember me? oh, that's right, i've only met you in my dreams."

b] "my love for you is like diarrhea, i just can't hold it in!"

c] "i'm not good at holding conversations. can i hold your hand instead?"

d] "forget hydrogen. you're my number one element."

⚔️ if you got mostly a's... 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐧 is your valentine's date! ♪♫ angel - alice phoebe lou ♪♫ extroverted, easygoing, well-liked by everyone! flirty, romantic, always planning dates like they are anniversaries. any praise will make him shy despite his confidence, lots of blushing. gentleman fr, loves hand-holding, guides you softly with his hand on your lower back, will not kiss you first - only when you want to initiate it! will get clingy if you two are separated for some time, sends teleslate messages every morning and likes using cute puppy stickers. compliments you at every corner, makes you feel like you're in the centre of his universe, looooots of affirmations of his love for you! but behind all the smiles and extravaganza, hides secrets and a pained past unveiled... keep an ear open to let him know you're there for him!

🎇 if you got mostly b's... 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔲𝔰/trailblazer are(is) your valentine's date! ♪♫ it was love - yena ♪♫ there's never a dull moment! spontaneous, adventurous, hard to predict their next moves. loves to make you laugh, expressive, will make a fool out of themselves, always goes along with your ideas and jokes, will heal your inner child! loves clinging to your arm, crawls into your bed at night. looooves gifting you! almost always a box in front of your door, filled with trinkets and gadgets that reminded them of you (was it found in a trashcan? welllll it's the thought that counts, right?). all their medals gained from trailblazing are given to you just to impress you! hoards all your gifts, their room might as well be yours. clumsy, never dated before so this is a new journey for them. make sure to tell them if they accidentally upset you! they're willing to learn and understand.

🍷 if you got mostly c's... ʍʏɖɛɨ is your valentine's date! ♪♫ honey - porch light ♪♫ an undying loyalty, his exterior seems tough, some bickering and competition at the start, but he eventually melts, a passionate love behind closed doors revealed to you only. small and quiet gestures like making you walk the inside of the pavement, carrying heavy baggage, always helping you even if unprompted. will send anyone who wrongs you into orbit, never to return. unexpectedly touchy, makes up for his lack of words probably - loves giving back hugs, kisses all your moles, freckles, scars if you have any, hugs you when sleeping, some affectionate biting, worships your body. likewise, loves when you reciprocate. miiiiight get overprotective and possessive, but it's only because he's afraid to lose you someday. bro needs your reassurance. and head rubs too.

🐉 if you got mostly d's... 𝒹𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑔 is your valentine's date! ♪♫ blue salvia - PRYVT ♪♫ pragmatic and reliable. once you get to know him, he becomes more comfortable! his tail will hug every part of your body, uses it to pull you closer, rests your head on his shoulder, and tell you some of his dry humour jokes. always giving you his undivided attention - puts down everything to listen to you, silence is not uncomfortable or awkward for you two, greatly respects your personal space. really loves watching you be passionate about hobbies, work etc.! will sit with you and help if you have a hard task at hand. will research all your interests in depth, notes down your favourite things in his notebook, eventually knowing it by heart. communication can be stiff sometimes, just remember to be honest and open with each other.

🌹if you got no dominant answer (e.g. there's a tie) ... well... that's depressing- uuuh, is that ar-argenti?? he says he's very sad to be left out on valentine's day, so you two can pair together? oh, nice! he's already reserved a restaurant for the both of you. huh? a wreath of 999 roses and a statue in honour of your excellence is on it's way to you?! (alternatively, you can pick whoever you like most out of your results!)

i'd love to know who you guys got!!!♥️♥️♥️(i got ma boi dan heng😎[dh gang assemble here!])

a/n: literally felt like a couple therapist writing this✍️ anw happy early valentine's!! I MADE IT ON TIME YAAAAAY!!!!! this one is going in with my halloween gang😋 if you enjoyed this, lemme know! maybe i'll make more in the future and other minigames? i have one more draft brewing in my lab, a very special one heeheehe. will prob post soon! thanks for playing! 💐

#i butchered these characters didnt i #im gonna stuff myself with chocolates mmmmm #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #mydei x reader #dan heng x reader #trailblazer x reader #phainon x reader #buuu so many tags do i really need them all buuuu #angie's crayon drawings!

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222prettysickgirl777 · 4 months ago

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spencer reid nsfw alphabet

primarily softdom!spencer bcos i can’t stop thinking about that man and what id let him do to me x

18+

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

spencer is so unbelievably sweet and gentle afterward, no matter what you’ve done, if it was something tame and simple or something more intense. he’s a huge cuddler and loves to have as much contact as possible, smushing your face to his and murmuring praise and sweet nothings so you know you’re loved. if there are any marks on you he’ll take such good care of you, being so gentle, asking if it hurts and what you need, etc.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

spencer likes his brain and his hands because you like his hands. he’s a tits man, but i think his favorite part of you is your brain or your face or something more mundane like even your back. he thinks all of you is so gorgeous he probably could never pick a favorite part.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i don’t think he cares that much one way or another about it. its messy so he’s not a big fan of that, but after sex he’s never rushing to clean it up if you just need him to hold you for a while. but he won’t sleep on dirty sheets, that’s for sure. either a towel is going down first or he’s setting you up with a blanket to curl up on the couch while he strips the bed and remakes it with clean sheets.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

i think he quite likes the idea of taking dirty photos of you or even just suggestive/lewd ones. if you did one of those boudoir photo shoots and gave it to him he’d be OBSESSED. but he knows how easy it is for people to steal photos stored online so if he did it he’d have them as hard copies only. i also think he’s extremely possessive and would so buy you a ring with his initials engraved on the inside or a necklace with the tiniest letter S. he likes seeing you in stuff he bought or even just in his clothing cos he’s territorial and he likes people knowing you’re his.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

it depends. earlier in the show, not much experience, but later on he’s gotten with a decent number of girls, probably all the ones he has one episode romances with. he’s too much of a workaholic to care THAT much about sleeping with women, but he occasionally will take the opportunity. regardless of how much experience he has, that boy knows what he’s doing. he’s done lots of research and is a quick learner and so eager to please.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary. spooning comes in second place.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

it’s serious for him. not that he can’t ever be happy and smiley during, but cos for him it’s an expression of how devoted he is n how much he loves you, so it matters quite a lot to him.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he’s very well maintained and hygienic. that’s all i can say.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

incredibly intimate. like i said, its a love language for him. he doesn’t see the point in it really unless it’s about being with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

not something he does a ton, but if he starts thinking about you like that, and you’re not around, sure. he’s never had any hang ups around that cos before you he didn’t have that much time to find women to hook up with, and he knows its just a natural human instinct. but he can only get off if he’s thinking about you now.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

shibari. i wrote a whole thing about this, which you can read here. he likes anything where you willingly submit yourself to him. if he never had to force you into submission that would be fine by him, he likes to be gentle with you. but sometimes YOU like being bratty just to see that small glint in his eye, cos even though it’s not his favorite thing in the world, he knows exactly what to do with you when you get like that, and he’s not afraid to do it. it’s especially fun to tease him in public just to feel his grip on your waist get a bit tighter and see how he lets his dominant side out a bit more, even in public. he’d never do anything that would make the people around you uncomfortable, but if they were paying attention they’d see the way he gives you warning looks when you misbehave, or how when he decides you’ve had enough alcohol or coffee he just takes the drink out of your hands and switches you to water, or any of the ways he’s casually dominant like that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere in the apartment. on the couch, on the bed, in the shower, at his desk. just nowhere where food typically is, and he always cleans up well and disinfects surfaces afterward. he’ll fuck you over his desk and afterward when you come out of the shower the office will smell like bleach and lemon disinfectant.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

it doesn’t take a lot, and sometimes you’re not even sure what you’ve done when you see that wanting look in his eye. sometimes you’re just brushing your teeth, or getting a midnight snack, or making a cup of tea. he can control himself quite easily, so its never a problem. but even just you making a sarcastic snarky joke will turn him on, or flipping your hair to take your earrings out at the end of the day in front of the mirror. he basically exists in a state of perpetually wanting you so can be ready whenever.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i don’t think he’s big into degrading you. even when he’s domming you it’s almost coming from a submissive place, if that makes sense? he worships you and when he dominates you its to please you and give you what you want and deserve, and to express his total overwhelming adoration. the most he’ll do is teasingly call you a slut, affectionately basically, and not when you’re actually having sex. all he can think about during sex is how divine you are. also he’s not into choking you (sees too much of that in his job) or too-rough impact play.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

loves both but if he could only have one for the rest of his life, it’d be giving. he’s extremely good at it. spencer is a munch through and through. he’ll eat you out for literal hours, until your face is soaked in tears and you’re all twitchy. he loves to make you whiny and hear your quiet broken begs for him to please stop, no more spence, can’t i can’t i can’t, even as you’re pulling his hair, pushing him closer, grinding into his mouth and cumming again with a relieved sigh, cos he knows you want it, he knows you like being overstimulated and used for hours, you’re just too shy polite and sweet to ask for it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

slow and deep. he likes to fuck you so deep your jaw drops, toes curl and back arches. you’re gonna feel every inch dragging in and out of you. he’ll do that til you’re begging for it faster, on the brink of cumming but just needing that little push. and then he’ll keep doing it. he’d never say “no cumming until i say so” because why say it when he doesn’t have to, and can just decide for you? he’ll fuck you slow and hard until he decides you need to cum, and then he’ll give it to you, whispering sweet things all while you cry and scratch your nails down his back.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he finds the idea of mutual release romantic. sex as something you can do together to relieve stress. so if you both need it, he’ll do it. it’s almost like a ritual before a rossi party or anything like that, where you fuck just before you go, almost to relax both of your social anxieties (and bcos you look so pretty in your dress he just has to slip your underwear off). unfortunately sometimes he goes into it with the intention of making it quick, but he simply gets so lost in you it turns into and hour and a half long session where by the end the event is probably over anyways.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

if he’s really wound up, yes. your sex life is a spectrum of vanilla to kinky and the more stressed he is, the more he wants you to completely surrender to him, the more he wants to show you who you belong to and the lengths he’ll go to to please you. his go to that lets you know he’s in an intense mood is tying your wrists behind your back or above your head, either intricately with rope or with cuffs if he doesn’t have the patience. he’d never do anything if you showed any signs of resistance or not wanting it, but he’ll suggest more experimental stuff. he’d also do anything you wanted to try as long as it didn’t involve hurting you physically or mentally.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

as long as necessary. he enters some kind of flow state with you where he’s so focused on you he’s not even thinking about himself and has immaculate self control. if he wants to see what you look like after your sixth orgasm, he’s gonna get you there, that becomes his only goal. he can fuck you on and off for forty five minutes before he cums if he so feels like it, just to turn you into a completely melted, pliable mess.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

aside from restraints, i think the only toy he has is one vibrator that either used to be yours or he bought just to use on you. sometimes he likes having you at the edge of the bed, completely naked and thighs spread, while he stands above you fully dressed, teasing you with the vibrator and then making you cum that way until you’re a soaked mess. he just plays with you like you’re a toy, and after you’re smearing your wetness between your thighs and dripping onto the bed, maybe he’ll unzip just enough to fuck you because you’re so ready for him, or maybe he’ll just admire you like that for a while before kissing your head and cleaning you up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s not a huge tease, but he will deny you sex if you’re too drunk, or behaved too badly, or if he thinks you want it for the wrong reasons. he’s actually way more likely to make you cum until your legs are trembling and your clit goes numb cos your body just can’t handle more, than he is to tease or edge you. not saying it NEVER happens, it will, just not super often. but when he does, he gets really into it, like wants to work you up to the point of insanity and bargaining with him and begging him to let you cum, before he makes you cum so hard you legit go nonverbal for a while after and just need to cuddle him and cry.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he talks a lot during sex (it’s spencer, duh). other than that he makes noises that are almost desperate, he whines sometimes, loud groans when he cums. also swears more during sex than any other time to the point where if you hear him swear in public you automatically need to press your thighs together.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

will occasionally in public whisper something suggestive into you ear and then act like it didn’t happen just to see you get worked up and flustered and not be able to do anything about it, just fighting not to go into subspace and sometimes giving up and getting really quiet and needy and clingy to him. again, wouldn’t do this in a context where it could embarrass you or make you bad at your job or anything.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

over six inches, and he’s gorgeous. prettiest youve ever seen. if you’re someone who doesn’t really like the appearance of dicks, he would be an exception.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

before you sex or jacking off was just a response to a natural instinct, but now its a way for him to express love and affection, and just be close to you. sometimes he initiates when he’s not even turned on, just thinking about how much he loves you and wants to be close to you. can totally see you cuddling in the middle of the night and he pushes your shorts and underwear to the side to gently fill you up, just to hear your soft little moan and feel you wrap your legs around him. he doesn’t care if he cums or not, he only wants to be as close to you as possible most of the time, and sometimes that means being inside you. he can fuck whenever, but he’s also content just to hold you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he doesn’t fall asleep quickly after unless you were domming him. usually he’s the type to stay up and ponder philosophically with you in his arms long after youve fallen asleep. he definitely gets hit with post nut clarity, not the kind where he doesn’t want you anymore, he just starts thinking about life and shit, and how much he loves you and how much his life has changed.

this won’t be to everyone’s taste but i’ve got a very specific version of him in my mind and he lives there rent free. inbox always open for spencer thoughts xx

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader

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thef1diary · 2 years ago

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All Eyes On Her | D. Ricciardo

Summary: Keeping the secret that you're dating Daniel becomes a lot harder when the other drivers have their eye on you when you wear a dress considering they haven't seen you out of team wear.

Warnings: 18+, jealous Danny, reader is a tease, Lewis attempting to flirting with reader, kind of jealous sex?, Dan is completely in love with the reader, orgasm denial (for reader), oral (m receiving), fingering, filthy words.

pairing: daniel x fem!driver!reader (established relationship), lewis x teammate!reader

word count: 3.5k

The FIA is hosting a black tie event, and since you're a driver, it is mandatory that you attend. If it weren't, you'd be downing shots in a club with your boyfriend.

Speaking of, you received a message from the man himself. He sent you a selfie with a cheesy smile that you fell in love with. You wished that you two could be in the same hotel room. It was brutal that you two would travel together because of your career but could barely spend time actually being together.

Well, if you wanted to, you could. And that has been brought up in your conversations a lot. But the thing is, you're the only female driver on the grid, and fraternizing with a fellow driver wouldn't look good for your image. Those weren't your words, it was drilled into your mind by your PR manager about a million times whenever they saw you 'too close' with another driver.

So, you and Daniel decided that it would be better if you two kept your relationship a secret. Although he understood why, he wished that he didn't have to. He wanted to enter the paddock with you-side by side-being able to proudly say that you're his girlfriend.

It's been like that for six months now.

You responded to his selfie with one of your own. A big smile you only had when you were around him. You ensured that you didn't reveal your outfit for tonight as you wanted to see his reaction in person. But you knew what he was wearing; a dark green suit with a white collared shirt. He even left the top few buttons undone, already knowing that he was planning to tease you tonight.

But you had your own plan.

You checked your appearance in the mirror one last time before heading out. Coincidentally, you ended up matching with Daniel. Recently, you bought a few dresses and told Daniel all about it, and you are almost certain that he bought a suit to match the dress, even though he didn't know you would wear it today.

You layered two necklaces together, one longer so it follows the deep neckline of your dress. The longer necklace actually had the letter D on it—an initial necklace. It was very obvious who bought it for you. The only reason you wore it was because if anyone saw it, you'd know that they were probably looking where they weren't supposed to. And maybe, tonight you didn't mind playing with fire.

When you entered the banquet hall, you were amazed by all the decorations. It was evident that they went all out to host a party that you didn't even know what it was about. Seemed to be like a gathering to attract the right people for the upcoming season. After all, the more popularity and money, the better. You almost rolled your eyes at the thought.

You looked around and locked eyes with your lover, who was standing beside Lewis telling him something that you were sure he wasn't even paying attention to. You waved at him with a cheeky smile on your face.

You decided to make him wait a bit, after all he was busy. Walking up to your team principal, you commented "looking good Toto," rarely seeing him in a proper suit.

"Who are you?" He asked, barely containing his smile as you faked offence. "Your favourite driver."

"You look different, surely you cannot be who you say you are." He continued on with the act which made Susie smack his arm. "Ha ha, very funny Toto" you playfully rolled your eyes.

"What he means to say is that you look stunning." Susie added and Toto nodded with her words. You thanked her and continued talking, mainly about the upcoming season.

Meanwhile, Daniel was still watching you. Lewis nudged him, gaining his attention. "What'd you say?"

He chuckled, looking towards you as well. "Who's that?" Lewis asked as the pair couldn't see your face, only your back.

Before he could answer, a few other guys joined them. Pierre, Charles, and Lando were now conversing with Lewis but Daniel's sight couldn't move away from you.

Once again, lost in his own world, the others were now silent, just watching him watch the back of a apparently mysterious lady. "He hasn't taken his eyes off her ever since she arrived I think" Lewis told the guys. Pierre nudged Daniel, making him look at the Frenchman with a glare. No one can let him enjoy his view in peace.

"Do you even know who that is?" Pierre asked. "She's with Toto, so I'm assuming that Lewis would know?" Charles looked towards the English man who shrugged. "I don't know man, but I'm sure I'll get to know her tonight." He smirked, already thinking of ways to approach you.

"Already calling dibs on her huh?" Daniel asked, clenching his jaw as he heard them talk about you. "Well, I'm sure you can't. Didn't you say you have a girlfriend?"

"Yeah I do. But let me ask you this, what makes you think she isn't taken?" He retorted.

"Only one way to find out" Lewis stated, setting his drink down and making his way towards you.

"peut-elle regarder ici?" [can she look here?] Pierre said out loud, making Charles shake his head, "Wait til Lewis talks to her"

"Out of all the people, why Max?" Lando commented as he noticed that you moved away from Toto and Susie and now conversing with Max. "What's wrong with that?" Daniel asked.

"Max is just Max, and he’s in a relationship so why is he even with her?" He shrugged. They all saw Max laughed loudly at something you said, and the way you placed your hand on his arm in response.

"Do you think if Lewis gets her number, he'll share it?" Charles asked which earned him a smack on his head from Pierre. "Not with you." His friend replied.

Daniel was definitely getting irritated by the words he was hearing about you—his girlfriend.

Meanwhile, you were conversing with Max until you heard your teammates voice, "hello, beautiful."

You turned around to face him and noticed how his eyes turned wide while you had a confused expression on your face. "Lewis, hi"

All the guys were intently watching as Lewis said something to make you turn around. As soon as you did, Pierre coughed loudly as he choked on his drink, Lando laughed, and Charles was stunned into silence. All while Daniel had a smug smile on his face, because he was the only one that knew it was you.

"Oh wow" Lewis muttered along with your name. By now, Max excused himself and made his way over to Daniel and the group. "She looks..." Charles began, "beautiful" Pierre finished the sentence and they nodded in agreement.

"Lewis?" You waved your hand in front of him and snapped him out of his thoughts when he didn't respond to your question. "Sorry, what?"

"What happened, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna be honest and say that I thought you were someone else." He told you which made you smile, "mhm, I got that a few times tonight."

"Maybe the FIA needs to host more events, can't believe you walk around in Mercedes gear all the time." He stepped closer and told you, trying hard to maintain eye contact.

You slightly tilted you head at him and peeked at the men looking at you two behind him, mainly looking at Daniel who made direct eye contact with you. "Well I wouldn't want to walk in a dress and heels in the paddock now would I?"

"True, but I definitely wouldn't mind seeing that."

You raised your eyebrows, "are you flirting with me?"

"Is it working?" He instantly responded but you saw how he cringed a bit at that question. You shook your head with a smile on your face, "Lewis, I think I should make it clear, I'm in a relationship. So no, it's not working"

Realization was evident on his face, and he began apologizing. "I guess he was right then" he muttered but you heard him, "who?"

"Daniel. He asked how can I be so sure that you're not taken."

You looked in Daniel's direction at his mention but he wasn't there, the other guys still looking at you with Max included now. Strange, you didn't know where he went.

"Hey, I'll still give you credit for trying" you laughed. "Totally didn't make it awkward, you're not going to push me off the track in the next race, are you?" He joked, and just like that, the topic of conversation changed.

"For that question, maybe I will."

Once you ended your conversation with Lewis, he returned to the group—who were all smiling at him for his failed efforts. "Not a word. Not a single word" he instantly said before anyone could make a comment.

"What did she say?" Lando completely ignored Lewis' instructions and asked a question. "She's taken." He simply replied making all the boys eye's widen, "you still asked her out? Come on, she's your teammate"

"So what? She's stunning, and I'd be an idiot not to realize that."

"Guess you are then, you never asked her out until she dressed up." Pierre told him, who earned a glare in response. "Forget it, she has a boyfriend anyways."

"Not surprised at all"

Lewis internally groaned, wondering how he was left to converse with the younger generation. He looked around for someone near his age—well if you could call it that. Daniel had seemingly disappeared in thin air.

All the guys knew you were attractive, but no one really wanted to act on it as much because they saw you as just a driver than a woman—which you weren't entirely sure if you liked that or not. But now, seeing you all dolled up in a beautiful dress made them think otherwise. But, it sucked knowing that they won't have a chance because you're taken. By who, they didn't know.

You were tired of the smile you had to keep up for various conversations that sometimes felt like an interview. It didn't help that you couldn't see the man you initially came here for.

You held your phone in your hand while also entertaining a glass of water in the other. Even though it was an open bar, you knew that you couldn't get drunk here. It was merely just a test.

You tapped on Daniel's contact which was just the letter D with a heart. Hovering your finger over the call button, contemplating whether or not you should call him.

Before you could, you felt an arm slip around your waist and a kiss was pressed to the side of your forehead. You already knew it was him, because no one else would dare to do that. You didn't like physical affection unless it was from him—mainly because it was his love language and you had to quickly adapt to it, not complaining at all though.

"Where were you?" You asked as you looked up at him. "Out, for a breather."

You frowned, "are you okay?" confused because you knew he liked parties. He nodded, and diverted your attention to the way he was completely checking you out. He smiled once he saw the pendant adorning his initial. "Bold choice" he commented before dragging his finger on the skin underneath the chain as he picked it up.

"Daniel." You warned, wanting to smack his hand away but loved the butterflies it was giving you—both in your stomach and even lower.

He looked up at you with an intense look in his eyes, "yes?"

"Don't do that. We're in public"

"You know, you look amazing tonight." he said, quieter so no one around you could hear. You stepped closer, whispering in his ear, "and if you behave tonight, you'll be the one taking this dress off."

"Darling, the things I want to do to you does not include any behaving." He dropped the chain and held your chin with his thumb and pointer finger.

"You don't know how bad I want to kiss you, to smear that lipstick."

Subconsciously, you leaned into him before you could contain yourself. But you were still confused why he was acting like this. "I hate to ruin this, but again, we're in public. You can't do any of that."

He sighed, stepping away from you. You decided to leave him with a thought, "for the record, I can't wait to be down on my knees for you too."

Daniel tried to reach out for you but you were just out of his grasp, walking away. His thoughts were now invaded by the image of you still in your dress on your knees with smeared makeup due to your tears, and spit drooling from your mouth as you sucked him off. "Fucking hell" he muttered to himself as he watched you mingle with others with a smirk on your face because you knew what you just did to him.

Sadly, since you were the only female driver on the grid, you mainly hung around with the guys. So, you were now with the group that watched you before.

However it didn't last long when Daniel joined you as well. He didn't say anything except "sorry, need this one for a moment", held your hand and took you away from the group.

He didn't stop walking until you exited the banquet hall into the main hall, taking you towards an empty hallway. He pushed you up against a wall and caged you in between his arms.

"What do you think you're doing?" You asked him, knowing well that you riled him up. He didn't answer you, instead he placed his lips on yours.

All thoughts left your mind as your hand tangled itself in his curls. He dropped one hand from the wall and lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist then resting it on your thigh.

He parted away from you for a moment to breathe before trailing kisses down your throat and the exposed skin even below it. The lower he went, the harder it was to contain your moans. Once he played with the chain using his mouth, and began placing filthy wet kisses, you couldn't contain your moans any further.

He didn't stop or look up, but his hand came up to cover your mouth as he continued his ministrations on your neck. Once he was satisfied with the rare marks he made on your skin that would only get darker with time, he faced you with a smile on his face.

"You know everyone is going to see those right?"

"I know"

You pushed him away, "idiot. We're supposed to keep this a secret."

"But do you really want to?" He asked, holding your hand, placing a light kiss on the back.

"You know I don't."

"Then don't."

He was stepping closer again but you placed your palms against his shoulders, stopping him. "Why now?"

"No reason"

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about what could possibly tick him off like this. Then you smirked when you realized. "You're jealous"

"No I'm not" he responded, way to quick.

"So you don't mind if I go back to continue the conversation with Lewis?" You began to move away from him but he held you back. You chuckled at his reaction, you weren't actually going to go anywhere.

He was all you needed, wanted.

Once again, he held your hand and led you somewhere. You shook your head when you entered the bathroom. "That impatient huh?"

"Less talking, more action, baby"

This time, you initiated a kiss. One hand finding its familiar place in his hair while the other unbuttoned his shirt. "Who's impatient now?"

"Shut up"

You two didn't bother completely removing either of your clothes. His shirt was just unbuttoned and his hands wandered under your dress and pulled down your panties. In between your kisses, one of your legs were wrapped around his waist like earlier but this time, his fingers were teasing your entrance.

In the midst of the sweet kisses, you didn't realize when his fingers were probing your hole, swiftly entering two fingers. He groaned, commenting on how wet you were for him.

You trailed your hand down his chest, and palmed his cock through his pants. Using one hand to unbutton his pants, the very ones belonging to your new favourite suit of his.

Fortunately, the stalls were empty, but the risk of anyone possibly walking in was exciting as much as it was scary.

His fingers were now pumping in and out of you at a brutal pace, tipping you closer to the edge. "Right fucking there baby, please don't stop" you begged, but obviously, it's Daniel, he wouldn't listen.

His fingers stilled inside you as soon as you got those words out, "I think you said something about being on your knees for me earlier"

You rolled your eyes at him, "asshole"

"Keep that up and you won't be getting an orgasm any time soon" he slapped the inside of your thigh before unwrapped it from his waist.

"I don't need you for that. I can do that myself too"

Daniel raised an eyebrow at your words, "yeah, can you?" You nodded, but he didn't like that answer. He brought his wet fingers to your lips, which you greedily sucked on.

"Not better than me. Now get down on your fucking knees" he instructed after pulling his fingers out of your mouth. You didn't instantly obey, instead, you placed your hands on his face and brought him in for a filthy kiss. "I love it when you talk to me like that"

Bringing yourself down on your knees, not caring for the dress you are wearing, you watched as he brought his pants and boxers down to his knees.

You licked your hand before placing it on his cock, then brought your mouth down on him as well. You could feel his hand on your head, tangling in your hair as he guided you—even though you knew well enough what he liked and disliked.

You already knew that you'd be getting an orgasm later tonight, so you focused on his pleasure. After all, you loved seeing him all hot and bothered because of you.

"No hands" Holding your head still, he chose his own pace, face fucking you. As he pictured before, you were on your knees, spit drooling from your mouth, and tears staining your cheeks. This was perfect.

"You know, anyone can walk in here and see you on your knees for me" he told you, looking at the door to the bathroom then back at you. You moaned around his cock, liking the thrill of it.

His hips stuttered and he warned you that he was going to cum. You took that chance to regain control, using just your mouth to tip him over the edge.

Earning a mouthful of his cum, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out to show him, then swallowed. He tilted his head back, muttering a curse word as that image would be imprinted in his mind for a long time.

He held your hand to help you stand up. You pressed a kiss to his lips and walked towards the mirror to hide any possible indications of bathroom sex. As expected, your lipstick was smeared, your eye makeup was slightly messed up due to your tears.

Daniel stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I don't like you" you told him. "Why?"

"Didn't give me an orgasm" you muttered while fixing your hair. He chuckled, "thought you could do that on your own."

You pushed him away, "doesn't mean I want to"

He turned you around, and brought you close to him again. Twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, "I know baby, but can't have you getting everything you want now"

"Asshole" you commented again which caused him to whisper in your ear, "darling, if you behave, I'll definitely be the one taking that dress off you" he used your words against you.

He held your panties in his hand, and you held you own hand out, asking him to give them to you. But he shook his head, "I think I'm gonna keep these"

You couldn't argue because Daniel opened the door to the bathroom and held your hand as you walked out. What you two didn't expect was for Lewis, Pierre, and Charles standing nearby, watching with wide eyes. "So much for keeping it a secret" you muttered.

"At least they know that you're mine now" Daniel told you as you guys walked away, heading outside. You stopped, "so you were jealous!" You exclaimed.

#daniel ricciardo #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo smut #thef1diary fic #f1 x reader #f1blr #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1

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sagittariusmarz · 5 months ago

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Good things coming to you ((pac)) *follower request

Pile 1

I see you getting some good news that’s you e been waiting for, I see you getting mail or a letter that you’ll be excited/happy about. I see you being divinely protected/prayers working for you, I see you hanging around people that really enjoy your company and having fun. I see some of you finding out who had bad intentions towards you and distancing yourself from it, I see you getting a lot of attention or company more than you expected. Signs- Sagittarius/libra, libra in 7th house/aries in 12th house. Initial- T, E, N, M

Pile 2

I see you getting some good karma/feeling extra lucky because things are going your way, I see you healing from something and learning how to move on. I see someone or a couple people getting karma because of what they did/said to you and you may find out about it, I see you feeling like you don’t have to fight or work twice as hard for stuff like normally. Signs- cancer/taurus. Cancer in 4th house/ Scorpio in 3rd house. Initial- D, Z, N, X, B, K

Pile 3

I see you traveling or taking a vacation soon, I see you traveling with your friend/friends or meeting new people or meeting a new friend. I see you saving more money and setting stronger boundaries with people that are trying to use you or drain you, I see you energetically feeling lighter or refreshed. You may be getting over a sickness soon or just feeling better physically, I see thinking more before you do things and people being more generous or giving to you. Signs- Pisces/cancer. Gemini in 7th house/Virgo in 8th house. Initial- T, A, Z

Personal readings always available

Divider by @enchanthings-a PNGs by @buriedteen

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krirebr · 1 month ago

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Lips Like Sugar 1

Pairing: sugar baby Ransom x late 40s female reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Summary: Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected.

Warnings: sugar baby au, sex work, d/s relationship, power imbalance, explicit language—All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: This one's a little different for me, but I had so much fun writing it! I hope you enjoy it too. But don't worry, my trademarked angst isn't gone forever. 🤭

Huge thanks to @biteofcherry for talking through the initial idea with me and @bigtreefest for being a sounding board throughout the whole writing process.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Sixty days.

That’s what the certified letter said. The one he had to sign for. The one from Linda.

When she and Harlan had told him they were cutting him off, he’d rolled his eyes. What did that actually mean? He wouldn’t have access to his trust anymore? Whatever, that was fine. He had his checking account. He had his house. He had credit cards. The only thing he thought it really meant was that he wouldn’t have to see any of his asshole family ever again. He was coming out ahead, all things considered.

Except. He didn’t actually have much of anything, as it turned out. His parents were on his bank accounts and credit cards. The deed to the house was under Linda’s name. And she was fucking evicting him.

It was this panic, wrapping itself around his chest and squeezing, that he wasn’t used to. That he didn’t know what to do with. He’d gone out of his way, worked hard to make sure he never felt this way. To make sure his life was comfortable and easy. And now his asshole granddad and bitch mother had ruined all that. Now he had sixty days to find a place to live.

He needed to come up with a plan. He could do that. He was good at plans. But where to start? He couldn’t afford a place he’d actually be willing to live in on his own right now (he couldn’t afford a shitty place either, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that). His grandfather, during the announcement of Ransom’s new status, had suggested he get a job, but fuck that. Ransom knew, deep in his bones, that he wasn’t meant for work. And also, any job that wouldn’t make him want to shoot himself required relevant experience and degrees and all sorts of other things Ransom didn’t have. So getting a job was out.

He could sell his things but, as he’d been so rudely informed by this entire situation, he didn’t actually own much. The only thing of significant value that his name was actually on was his car. But he’d rather cut off his own arm than sell his vintage BMW. So he marked that down as an absolute last resort.

He could see if he could stay with a friend until he got things figured out, but all of his friends were assholes and he already knew that none of them would say yes. Plus, all of his friends were assholes and he’d sell his own body before he asked any of them for a favor.

Actually…

Okay, that wasn’t a half-bad idea. He knew exactly how hot he was. He’d been very aware of that since he was a teenager. And if he sat down and actually thought about what his biggest skills were, it’d be fucking and talking. In that order. This could work.

But how to go about it? He wasn’t eager to go out and stand on a corner in barely anything at all hours. Same went for sitting in a hotel bar and hoping for the best. Plus, he didn’t like the uncertainty of all that. He needed a reliable, steady stream of income that would be there whenever he needed it.

And that’s when he remembered Andrea.

His friend Chad had dated her for about six months. Well, “dated.” Everyone in their circle knew exactly what that arrangement was, even if Chad had never admitted it. Ransom pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text.

Hey, where did you meet Andrea?

The dick took two hours to respond.

Andrea? At the grocery store. Why???

Ransom responded immediately with an eyeroll emoji and followed it with

Cut the shit, asshole. What was the app?

The three dots to show Chad was typing appeared and disappeared three separate times before Ransom finally got the truth.

SUGR

But watch out, bro. That shit was way more expensive than it was worth.

Ransom smiled. That was exactly what he was counting on.

He didn’t bother correcting Chad about which side of this arrangement he was hoping to be on. He didn’t need the embarrassment of anyone knowing that mommy and (grand)daddy had finally cut him off. And if this worked the way he hoped it would, no one would ever need to know.

The first setback was that he had to pass a background check before he could join the app. What a fucking hassle. And it took a whole week before he got the email telling him he could move forward with setting up a profile. He could physically feel the number of days he had to find another place to live ticking down. The constriction around his chest got tighter with each one.

But in that week of waiting, he became even more convinced that this was a good idea. There had to be tons of old hags desperate enough to bankroll him in exchange for sex with a hot youngish thing. And he’d be able to suck it up and do what was needed if it meant his lifestyle wouldn’t have to change. Hell, that's what viagra was for.

The other thing he’d done while he waited was take about a hundred pictures of himself. He’d used all his best outfits—designer sweaters, skintight t-shirts, pants that hugged his ass. He did fifty pushups and then took a bunch shirtless so that he was sweaty and his abs popped. He had a few that were just of his junk in gray sweatpants. And then he threw in a couple straight up dick pics for good measure. He was ready.

But, ugh, there were so many forms to fill out first. He had to agree to all of the terms and conditions. The company reserves the right to blah blah blah. The company does not guarantee yada yada yada. Agree, agree, agree.

There were forms that asked him to detail the expenses he wanted covered and another that wanted him to rate kinks based on his interest. These were both optional so he skipped them. Was he the only one who understood what was happening here? He'd do whatever she wanted that guaranteed him the most money. That was it.

Finally, he got to the point where he could build his actual profile. It automatically imported some of the biographical information he had to give to set up his account, which wasn’t ideal. Hugh D. 35, stared back at him. He normally hated his given name, but he didn’t hate the way it kind of seemed like Huge Dick here. He could work with that. But that 35. That– that felt old for this sort of thing. He tried to change it to 30, but it wasn’t editable. Well. That was fine, right? He was going after women. Weren’t they known for being less shallow than men? That was part of the whole thing, wasn’t it? Yeah. It’d be fine. It just meant he knew what he was doing in bed. That’s what mattered.

He moved on to pictures. They only let you add fifteen, so he combed through all the ones he’d taken and picked the fifteen best. He scrolled through the ones he’d chosen before he clicked save and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was good. He was hot as fuck.

He skipped through all of the useless essay questions. Who cared what his interests were or what he was offering?? His dick pics spoke for themselves.

But he did put something in the headline area. Call me Ransom. >20k/month only

Perfect. Done. Save. Now he just needed to sit back and wait for the DMs to roll in.

The DMs did not roll in. It’d been forty-eight hours, and he’d gotten absolutely nothing. He couldn’t understand it. What was wrong with these women? He was offering himself up at a fucking steal.

He’d figured the onus was on the buyer to make the first move, but maybe he’d gotten the etiquette wrong. Maybe he needed to sell himself a little more aggressively.

He went to the browse feature and set his filters for women with the biggest budgets. Then he sent a random ten of them a simple “hey”. Then he made himself close the app.

When he came back a few hours later, he was chagrined to find that he hadn’t gotten any responses. There must be something wrong. When he went to the chats to make sure he hadn't missed something, half of them weren't even there anymore, and he couldn't find the corresponding profiles either. He refreshed the notifications page. He restarted his phone. He uninstalled then reinstalled the app. Nothing made a difference.

Finally, as he was checking his settings, a message popped up.

Honey, what are you doing?

Yes! Finally!

He clicked on the profile. Carolyn M., 55. Under what she was offering was rent, living expenses, and a negotiated allowance. Perfect.

He wrote back

I'm looking at your pictures and touching myself. What are you doing?

The response was immediate.

Oh my god, no. That's not what I meant.

He stared at her message, confused, but then she sent another.

I'm going against all of my instincts to just block you, and I'm going to take pity on you instead.

He was typing before he even fully processed what she'd said.

Excuse me??

This is not the way to get what you want.

What the fuck??

You’re obviously new to this, so let me explain something to you. Yes, these relationships are transactional, but most of us are looking for a genuine connection as well. No one who wants that is going to contact you based on your profile.

Who the hell did she think she was? Ransom knew what he was doing. He’d never had any issues picking up women. He didn’t need help. He locked his phone with a scoff and threw it on the couch as he got up and moved to his bar. He deserved a drink after dealing with that bullshit.

As he poured himself a glass of eighteen-year-old scotch, he paused. This bottle was $700. Who knows what everything in this bar totaled to? And this whole house. Fucking shit. He was down to forty-nine days. He didn’t have time to fuck around.

He took a large gulp of his drink and then picked his phone back up. He could do this. He could play the game. He could fake anything if it meant his life didn’t have to change.

Fine. How do I fix it?

Start by filling out the information. Be honest. Any prospective match will want to get a sense of who you are. Right now the only thing I can tell about you from your profile is how highly you think of your own dick.

This fucking bitch.

Okay, sure. What else?

You are demanding a lot of money without giving any details about how that money will be spent. Anyone who sees that will immediately feel taken advantage of. The best version of these relationships is an equal give and take. A lot of us are here because we enjoy taking care of someone. We don’t enjoy feeling like a faceless ATM. Give an actual, honest account of the expenses you would like covered.

God, this was annoying. But he had to keep his eye on the prize.

Anything else??

Put some actual effort into your first message to someone. Something you think you might have in common, something you liked about their profile, or a relevant fact about yourself. ‘Hey’ isn’t going to get you anywhere. And don't just jump into sexting immediately.

Despite himself, he took a screenshot of the conversation. If it helped him get more money, it was worth it.

Alright. I’ll do it.

You know, it’s customary to say thank you when someone helps you out like this.

He rolled his eyes.

Thank you.

He hoped she could feel the sarcasm coming through the screen.

Well, look at that. Maybe you can be someone’s good boy after all.

The heat that rushed to his face at that– He didn’t know what that was. Annoyance probably. What else could it be?

He was about to send something snarky back when her status suddenly switched to offline. Goddamn bitch.

Ugh. It took so much effort to take things seriously. To act like he cared. This was exhausting.

But he could do it if he kept the goal in mind: being the pampered pet of some rich old lady. Once he’d achieved that, all he’d ever have to do again was get it up for her once or twice a week, tops. He just had to get there.

So he poured himself another glass of whiskey and took a slow sip as he looked at the first section of his profile he’d previously left blank. The About Me header stared back at him as the cursor blinked. Come on. He could do this. What did these women want to hear?? He wished he could see other prospective babies’ profiles. Do some market research.

He skipped down to the next section: Looking For. He’d already selected women with no age restrictions. Now he just had to get into the specifics. Ok, this he could do. Buttering people up was a skill he’d been honing his entire life.

A woman with life experience who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go out and get it. Someone to share good times, good food, and good sex with. And yes, someone to spoil me rotten. 😉

That was cute, right? Yeah, these old bats would love that.

Ok, now it was on to what he offered. He remembered what Carolyn had said about not wanting to feel like an ATM. He needed to make it seem like he’s was bringing something to the table (more than just his dick, that is, which, honesly, should have been enough).

I’m offering companionship with plenty of intelligent conversation. I’ll keep you from being bored at any functions you may need to attend, and I’ll look great on your arm doing it.

That seemed good enough for now. He could change it up depending on what he found waiting for him out there.

He switched to the form for expenses. For rent, he put approximately 10k a month (he’d looked around the Boston area for what was available and that seemed to be the going price for the sort of place he wanted) with a note that his lease was ending soon and he’d need a new place to stay. That was close enough to the truth and made him seem like more of a charity case, which would normally bother him, but right now was exactly what he wanted. He divided up the rest of his asking price across utilities, clothing, and other expenses.

On the kink list, he started by putting yes to everything, figuring that’d make him more expensive. But would that look weird? Desperate? Fake? He went back and randomly switched a few to maybe and a couple to no. Ok, that was done.

He went back to his photos and removed the straight up dick pics. He left the sweatpants one, but moved it to the end. And he added a couple more of himself in sweaters that he knew made people drool.

There was only one thing left. This fucking About Me. Come on! Okay. Okay.

The only thing I love more than reading is getting to talk about what I’ve read. I’m well-educated, and I’m at a point in my life where I just want to be able to enjoy things with good company. I love trying new restaurants, and I know my way around a whiskey menu. And as for other realms of experience you might be curious about, let’s just say I know what I’m doing. 😏

Ugh. God. He hated this. The whole thing was so fucking corny. That had to be good enough right? The last thing he did was delete everything but Call me Ransom from his header. And then, without overthinking it, he hit save and immediately put down his phone.

Goddamnit, fucking Carolyn was fucking right. The whole thing made his blood boil. But now, finally, the messages were rolling in. Sort of. Moderately. But it was something.

He’d gone back and tweaked a few things based on the response he was getting, and each improvement seemed to have made a difference. He was starting to get the hang of this bullshit.

But, frustratingly, he hadn’t managed to hook a whale yet. He’d had some promising conversations, but none had ultimately gone anywhere. How exactly were these conversations supposed to move from “Hi, how are you?” to “What say we make this official and you bankroll my entire life? I promise I’ll lay the pipe real good.” The one time he’d tried that, it hadn’t gone over well.

But god, the days were running out.

He sat down with his phone, hoping to find something that would help him strategize, when a new message popped up at the top of the screen.

God, you’re pretty.

Ransom stopped and stared at the message.

He couldn’t remember ever being called pretty before. Handsome, sure. Gorgeous, hot, all the time. But pretty– Pretty felt different. And he couldn’t explain why.

He clicked through to the profile.

And there you were.

Don’t you want to be good for me? the line under your profile picture read. Ransom swallowed involuntarily as he kept reading.

You were forty-nine, had founded your own business (although you gave no clues as to what that was), and you were looking for someone to take care of. Glancing at what you were offering, Ransom surmised that what he needed wasn’t outside of your budget.

He moved on to your photos. He picked up a little more caginess there. There were no straight-on pictures of your face, but he spent several moments looking at a close-up of just your smirk, soft lines framing your mouth. Then, as he continued to swipe through the pictures, he stopped again at one that was just of the back of your legs clad in shiny, thigh-high boots, with some of the tallest stilettos he’d ever seen. Something about that image made his breath catch in his throat.

He moved back to your message and stared at it again, his fingers drumming against his leg. After thinking about it for far too long, he fired off a short response.

I know.

Your reply was immediate.

Yeah, I bet you do.

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