#She still switches to things like 'my love' and what not when the situation calls for it

[imaginesbymonika]

Not a violent dog | Part 1

Pairing: Logan x fem!Reader

Plot: Back in Wade‘s world Logan meets someone he thought he would never ever see again.

Warnings: slight spoilers for Deadpool 3!!!! mentions of death, angst, cursing, and fluff at the end if you squeeze your eyes at the screen, I haven’t written in A WHILE so bear with me

Masterlist

Wade met you in 2016, while he was staying at the X-Men mansion. You didn’t look up from your spot behind the counter when he came into the kitchen, your eyes were observing how the colorful cereal chunks were floating in the brownish milk. It didn’t take long for him to ultimately recognize you. “You’re Y/N!”, he exclaimed loudly, as if he made the discovery of a lifetime:” Cat Claw, was it, right?” You didn’t respond, instead, your y/e/colored eyes solely looked up. At the sight of his face, you slightly tilted your head. He immediately began ranting about how he truly believed that you could have had your own franchise if Sony cared enough about women before he made a shiver run down your spine.

“You’re Logan’s girl, right?”, he asked innocently, however, the next thing Wade knew, was how the bowl of cereal slammed against the wall right next to his face. He didn’t flinch, instead, he merely ran his finger down the milk stains before putting them into his mouth:” Oat milk, how responsible of you. We should all take better care of Mother-Earth, con-.” But before he had the chance to end his sentence, you made a few long steps toward him until your faces were only a couple of centimeters apart from one another. “That is so hot.”, Wade whispered while you studied his burned features.

“Don’t you ever take his name into your mouth again, or I’ll cut your tongue out!”

“That’s even hotter!”

Wade very quickly learned that despite your powers, your inability to die, and your unbelievably harsh persona you carried a lot of heartbreak inside. Things between you and Logan didn’t end well. You heard about his death through Charles Xavier, a couple of months after he mysteriously disappeared. And never getting any actual explanation or closure had turned you into a person no one could recognize anymore. You were always angry, short-tempered, and mean like a nervous dog. Because let’s call it by its name: you were beyond hurt. There was no term in the dictionary that could fully define how you felt about the whole situation.

So when Wade came across the other Logan, he eventually brought you up. “You’re a hero in my world, you know. Everyone idolizes you.”, Wade explained, looking down at the canned food and taking it into his hands:” No wait, scratch that- almost everyone loves you.”

Logan, who was sitting with his back turned to Wade only scoffed:” Whoever that person is, they’re probably smarter than the rest.” “Yeah, maybe.”, he simply replied, looking out of the window:” I mean, she doesn’t talk about it. Except for this one time where she was really, really drunk and we sang karaoke together…it was terrific.”

“She?”

Wade turned his head:” Yeah, Y/N.” He observed how Logan abruptly tensed up, almost as if the name alone switched on something inside of him:” Say it again.” And for one short second one could've argued that Logan was begging. The sound of his voice was almost vulnerable.

The man in the red outfit blinked a couple of times before he gazed into the open air:” We are about to find out something significant for the plot, guys!”, he whispered excitedly before clearing his throat and turning back to Logan: “Y/N, you know- the X-Man. Wasted potential if you ask me, Sony could’ve made so much money off of her. She’s really popular with women and girls above the age of 14, I-.”

“Cut the bullshit!”, he turned in his chair, eyebrows furrowed:” You are telling me that in your world, she is still alive?”

“What a plot twist!”

Turns out, Logan lost his version of you years ago on a mission. “It was supposed to be an easy one.”, Logan explained, while the two men wandered through the desert-looking realm:” Get into the lab, eliminate the mutant killing weapons, and then leave again-.” He took a deep breath, while his eyes roamed over the uninhabited land. His angry eyes suddenly much softer and sadder:” We thought we killed every guard. The bullet came out of nowhere, and hit her right in the chest.”

Only the sound of the wind cut through the stillness. „ We were supposed to get married. Charles had already promised that we would be able to build a home in the woods next to the School. So she could become a teacher… she always adored the mutant children that lived there. Said she wanted some of her own one day, with me…”

Wade stared at the ground:” I am sorry.” But Logan shook his head in comeback:” It’s all good. That’s how life is.“

“That’s what she always says as well.”, Wade muttered under his breath, as the two continued walking:” But I know she's always lying to me.”

[rise-my-angel]

More headcannons about the Starks being doms!!! Pleaseeeee!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay starting off saying, all Stark men are doms, just in different ways. But let's start from the eldest down.

Brandon Stark:

Easily a hard dom. He was short tempered and described as very distinctly as having "wolfs blood". He loved fighting and always kept his sword sharp and with him. I have a distinct theory that he was a power bottom, preferring women on top of him but without actually giving them that control. Probably didn't talk a lot, and when he did was just purposely filthy. He also definitly liked to take things rough, considering Barbrey Dustin says this about him.

"I still remember the look of my maiden’s blood on his cock the night he claimed me. I think Brandon liked the sight as well. A bloody sword is a beautiful thing."

That is some hard dom behavior right there.

Eddard Stark:

If there was a Stark who was closest to a switch then the others, it would be Ned. But I think that is more because Ned is just rather vanilla in comparison. There is zero reason to believe Catelyn likes being in charge in the bedroom, but I also think Ned is far more of a soft dom. Not very talkative, probably more intimate, and he doesn't push Catelyns limits. But he does in fact, go hard.

The man gave her five children, and Catelyn literally implies in the first book that Ned fucked her so hard she was in that afterglow pain only a man who goes rough can give.

"Her loins still ached from the urgency of his lovemaking. It was a good ache."

Submissive men do not fuck so urgently they leave their wife laying in bed sore as fuck from getting pounded. Ned is probably the least kinky of the present Starks, but certainly still a soft dom.

Benjen Stark:

We see he has a very dominant personality, how easily he takes control of a conversation and establishes himself as someone to be listened too, but considering he clearly joined the Nights Watch at an early age, it's safe to say Benjen grew up a man whom was just not involved in sexual encounters.

If he did fuck, he'd likely be more of a soft dom with a side that likes to tease and be playful, but I assume he's either never or had very little sexual encounters to say for sure what he'd be like as one. But in his everyday personality, he certainly commands authority when necessary which is proof of dominance enough for me.

Robb Stark:

If there is the biggest example of a hard dom, it's Robb. This man takes you like a goddamn wolf. Flipping you onto your hands and knees, shoving you further into the furs of his bed, going fast enough you can't catch your breathe and rough enough that you feel him well into the next day. He will yank you up to his chest and purposely mutter depraved shit in your ear, mock you for your pleasure knowing it works you up more when he does it. Calling you derogatory sexual terms in bed to keep you in that subspace (he doesnt say them to hurt your feelings you know its all part of a kind of rougher roleplay essentially).

We've seen him take command in every situation. He knows how to seize control of a conversation even with opponents as difficult as Jaime Lannister. He doesn't falter, knowing he has everything in his favour and is sure of himself. Putting men twice his size like Greatjon Umber in his place but still managing to secure his upmost dedicated loyalty at the same time.

Robb probably the most forgets to be romantic in bed, but he makes up for it any other time. It's just in bed, when Robb is fucking you, he is rough and mean. You both know its with love and you both like it, but he is a true hard dom.

Jon Snow:

If his brother is the definition of a hard dom, Jon is the definition of a soft dom. Jon is incapable of being mean to you, truly being mean. He'll never whisper filth for the sake of it, never try to mock or embarrass you, will never use anything close to something derogatory towards you in what he calls you. Jon is passionate, raw, and very intimate about sex with you, and he needs a lot of both skin to skin contact and he needs to be able to kiss you as much as he wants.

But, he is also very controlling. More then he realizes. Jon is unpredictable in bed, because what he wants varies wildly. Sometimes he takes you slowly, but goes for hours to the point he is still inside you as you pass out, which he keeps going. Sometimes, he is rougher then he even realizes. Jon leaves bruises all the time from how tightly his hands grab at you alone, and he goes rough to the point sometimes you almost are pushed too far, but Jon somehow always ends up making you crave it.

You basically will never choose how the night goes. Jon always controls you in bed, and you let him. It works him up to an endless degree that you so completely trust him with you to the point he basically owns your autonomy in bed. He can convince you to do anything knowing you'd let him, and he won't give you what you want because he knows your needs and limits better then you do.

Jon is soft and loving with you in bed, but he is a dom through and through. Jon alone is the one in total control in the bedroom and he will always keep it that way.

[brunchable]

𝐌𝐫. 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞: Stucky x F!Reader

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader | Daughter of Thaddeus Ross (Red Hulk) Words: 5.4K Themes: Forbidden Reader, Love Triangle, M for Mature, 18+ , Post-Endgame, AGE GAP (24y/o reader). Summary: Bucky Barnes expected another typical therapy session, but the moment he meets Y/N, a sharp and unflinching therapist who doesn’t back down, everything changes. Used to keeping people at arm’s length, Bucky finds himself intrigued by her resilience and the way she sees right through his walls. A/N: I am also obsessed with Bucky ok? I can't leave him out. I will not use "chapter" for now because IDEK how long this will be. Let me know if you want to be tagged. Ciao.

Bucky entered the therapist’s office, expecting the usual routine with Dr. Raynor. But when he saw a younger woman sitting on the couch, legs crossed, glasses perched on her nose, he froze. She was scribbling in a notebook, completely absorbed in whatever she was writing. His eyes swept over her—pencil skirt, white blouse with the top two buttons undone. Definitely not Raynor.

Raynor was a pain in the ass enough, but now they're throwing this at me? Bucky thought, his jaw tightening as he watched her quietly scribble in her notebook. He wasn’t sure if this was some kind of test or another attempt to “catch him off guard.” His whole life had been one test after another, and this—this felt like just another trick up their sleeve.

Great, he thought bitterly, as if I haven’t been poked and prodded enough. Now I’m supposed to open up to someone who probably just finished med school.

The calm way she sat there, so sure of herself, made him itch with irritation. He couldn’t figure her out, and he hated that. Was she here to push him harder than Raynor? Or was this just another bureaucratic move to switch things up, like changing therapists would suddenly crack him open? 

What’s next? A therapy dog? His mind was racing, constantly searching for the next hit, the next blow. He felt like they were always trying to break him down bit by bit, like he was still their weapon. 

But this? This is just insulting. He didn’t know what to make of her, or what she could possibly do for him, but his instincts were already screaming to keep his guard up, to watch her carefully. There was always something more to these situations. Always a catch.

"Did they lose my file or something?" Bucky raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You don’t look old enough to be out of med school, let alone help me with… this." His words came out dripping with sarcasm, testing her right from the start.

Y/N didn’t look up immediately, taking her time as she finished writing something in her notebook. When she finally met his gaze, she adjusted her glasses slightly, then pointed to the couch with her eyes.

"I assure you, Sergeant Barnes, you’re in the right place," she said, her voice calm and even. "If you’d like to sit down, we can get started."

Bucky paused, the smirk still playing on his lips. He scanned the room, as if making sure he hadn’t walked into the wrong office, then sauntered toward the couch opposite her. He dropped down, stretching out his legs lazily, crossing his arms over his chest, still eyeing her with playful suspicion.

"Right place, huh? Are you sure about that?" He chuckled. "Didn’t realize they sent kids to do the hard jobs these days."

"Lucky for you, I’m not a kid. But if you’re hoping for someone older, I’m sure you can take it up with the front desk. Or we could just get started, your call."

Bucky’s smirk widened slightly, impressed by the way she shot back at him. He leaned back on the couch, arms crossed. "Alright then, since you’re apparently the expert. What’s the plan here? Gonna wave a magic wand, make all my problems go away?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, meeting his sarcasm head-on. "No magic wand. Just work. But something tells me you’re not afraid of a little hard work, are you?"

That caught him off guard. He was used to deflecting with humor, but she wasn’t backing down. In fact, she seemed perfectly comfortable in this verbal sparring match.

"Hard work, huh?" He leaned forward slightly, his tone softening but still sarcastic. "And here I thought you were here to hand me a quick fix."

Y/N smiled ever so slightly, just enough to show she wasn’t intimidated. "I don’t do quick fixes. That’s for amateurs."

Bucky stared at her for a moment, genuinely impressed despite himself. He had expected someone more nervous, someone he could easily rattle. But this woman? She wasn’t having any of it.

"Alright, doc," he said, nodding slightly, acknowledging her stance. "You’ve got my attention. What’s next?"

Y/N adjusted her glasses, flipping a page in her notebook. "Next? We talk about your progress. Or, we can sit here in silence while you continue throwing sarcastic remarks at me. I’m good with either option."

"You think I’m just gonna spill my guts? It doesn’t work like that."

"I didn’t expect it to.”

"I’m fine with silence.”

Bucky muttered, his eyes flicking to the window as if contemplating an escape. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about himself. Especially not with someone like her—someone so young and… focused.

Leaning forward slightly, his playful look faded into something darker—a cold, calculating stare. His blue eyes locked onto hers, hard and unblinking, as he gave her the same menacing look that had unnerved countless soldiers and enemies. It was the stare that said he wasn’t someone to mess with.

Most people would have flinched by now, maybe glanced away or shown some kind of discomfort. But Y/N didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. She met his icy stare head-on, calm and unwavering.

Seconds ticked by then into minutes. Bucky’s gaze bore into hers, daring her to crack under the pressure. But she didn’t blink. Didn’t shift in her seat. She held his stare, unshaken.

As Bucky realized she wasn’t going to back down. He clenched his jaw tighter, leaning in even more, his menacing stare intensifying. And still—nothing. Y/N just stared back at him. After what felt like an eternity, Bucky scoffed, the sound low and begrudgingly amused. He leaned back into the couch, letting out a breath.

"Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, clearly impressed. His smirk returned, but this time, it was less mocking and more intrigued. "You didn’t even blink."

"I’ve seen worse," she shrugged.

"Most people can’t handle the stare," he said, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice. Bucky stared at her for a moment longer, still processing that she hadn’t buckled under his intimidation. 

"I’m not most people," Y/N replied, her gaze still locked on his.

"You’re not, huh?” Bucky let out another short scoff, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them gradually easing. Bucky leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if contemplating his next move.

"Alright," he finally muttered, his voice quieter now, the edge of defiance softening. "Let’s get started."

× × × ×

Bucky walked down the street, hands deep in his pockets, his mind still stuck on the therapy session with Y/N. He couldn't shake the image of her holding her ground against his menacing stare. Most people crumbled under that.

He was impressed. Hell, maybe even a little thrown off by it.

He reached a small café, the door chimed as he walked in. He’d been coming here for weeks, liking how quiet it was. Bucky slid into a booth in the corner, the furthest one from the entrance, his usual spot. The place was small, quiet—barely anyone noticed him here. That was what he liked. No eyes following him. No whispers.

As he sat down, he glanced at the menu out of habit, though he already knew what he wanted. He tapped his fingers against the table, feeling the hum of anxiety still coursing through him. His thoughts wandered back to Y/N’s. Her refusal to let him dictate the session. It had been a long time since someone had stood their ground with him.

“Same as usual?” the waitress asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Same.”

The door chimed again, and out of reflex, Bucky glanced up. His eyes landed on her—Y/N. But she was different now. She was dressed in a casual sweater and jeans, her hair down, and the serious, composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. She looked relaxed. For a moment, Bucky frowned. Was this the same woman from earlier?

She hadn’t noticed him yet, busy ordering her coffee at the counter. As she turned, their eyes met, and for a split second, surprise flickered in her gaze. Then she smiled. 

It wasn’t a polite, professional smile like the one she had in the office—it was real, warm. Bucky had to admit, she was even more beautiful when she smiled like that. She made her way over to him, her expression soft and light, a stark contrast to how she’d been before.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she greeted with an amused smile. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you either. You got a twin or something?” Bucky leaned back, trying to hide the fact that her smile had thrown him. He gave her a skeptical look, still trying to wrap his mind around the shift in her demeanor.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Nope. Just me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You sure? Because you’re not exactly giving off the same ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe as you did earlier.”

“I save that for the office.” She laughed lightly, the sound catching him off guard again.

Bucky blinked, still half-convinced she had to be a different person. “You’re… different outside of work.”

Y/N smiled again, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice how that smile completely transformed her. The serious, no-nonsense therapist was gone. 

“Therapist mode can be intense,” she said, settling into the seat across from him. “Gotta decompress too, you know.”

“Decompress, huh?” Bucky muttered, still eyeing her. “I wasn’t sure you even knew how to.”

“Oh, trust me, I do,” she said with a grin. “You think I’m a robot in the office?”

“Was starting to wonder. . .”

She laughed again, shaking her head as she took a sip of her coffee. “Nope. Just human.”

Bucky stared at her for a moment, taking in how much more approachable she seemed now. The difference between the Y/N sitting across from him now and the one who had held her ground in the office was stark. He hadn’t expected to see her like this—relaxed, smiling, laughing. It was almost disarming.

“You’re hard to figure out,” he said, still trying to process the shift.

She shrugged lightly. “That’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the café filling the space. Bucky glanced at her again, her soft smile lingering in his mind. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing her like this, outside of the serious office atmosphere, made him feel… at ease.

Eventually, Y/N glanced at her watch. “I should get going. Got other plans.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, same.”

She stood, grabbing her cup. She paused for a moment, then gave him one last smile—a sweet one, the kind that lit up her whole face, making her seem even more different than the woman who had stared him down earlier.

“See you at the next session?” she asked.

Bucky chuckled, half-joking, "Hm, I don’t know."

Her smile didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened, her eyes holding him with a quiet confidence. "I will see you, Sergeant Barnes," she said, her voice more insistent this time, not leaving room for doubt.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, shaking his head slightly, "What’s the point of asking then?”

As she walked out of the café, Bucky leaned back in his seat, shaking his head with a small smile. She had completely thrown him. Her smile, her relaxed demeanor—it was all so different from what he’d expected. For a moment, he wondered if she really did have a twin. But then again, maybe she was just someone with more layers than he’d first realized.

And he found himself eager to know more.

× × × ×

Steve Rogers wasn’t sure how he had gotten talked into this. Well, actually, he knew exactly how—Sam Wilson had dragged him along to this party, claiming Steve needed to “loosen up” and enjoy life more. But standing in the middle of a loud, flashing room with music pounding in his ears, Steve wondered if he should have pushed harder to stay home.

"Come on, Cap," Sam had said with a mischievous grin as they walked through the entrance earlier. "You’ve been in retirement long enough. Time to see what the world’s been up to while you were busy saving it."

Steve stood near the bar now, trying to blend in, his eyes scanning the room. People were dancing wildly, laughing, and having fun in the swirling haze of strobe lights. It was a far cry from the kinds of parties he had attended back in the 1940s—those had been calm, slow, and filled with small talk and jazz music. 

This? This was chaos.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. He had barely touched his drink when Sam elbowed him from the side, laughing. “You look like you’re plotting an escape route. Relax, Cap. Have fun.”

Before Steve could respond, Sam was swept into the crowd by some friends, leaving Steve standing alone by the bar. Even in the anonymity of the darkened room, Steve still attracted attention. His broad shoulders, strong jawline, and quietly confident presence drew glances from several women who were passing by. The strobe lights occasionally highlighted his features, and more than a few curious eyes lingered on him as he stood by the bar.

“Hey there,” she said, leaning in slightly, her voice loud to be heard over the music. “You look like you’re way too good-looking to be standing here alone.”

Steve smiled politely, keeping his distance. “Just here with some friends,” he said, not giving much away.

She stepped a little closer, her eyes lingering on him. “Well, maybe I could keep you company?”

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Thanks, but I’m good. Just enjoying the night.”

She looked a little surprised but shrugged it off with a casual smile. “Your loss,” she said with a wink, before disappearing back into the crowd.

Steve let out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing as she left. He wasn’t here for that kind of attention, though it seemed inevitable. He glanced around, hoping to spot Sam or Bucky, but before he could move, another woman approached.

He was just about to step away from the bar when another woman, a petite brunette with a mischievous smile, appeared beside him. 

“I’ve seen you reject at least ten girls in the last ten minutes,” she said, her voice teasing. “Either you’ve got impossibly high standards or you’re just too shy to admit you’re having fun.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Neither, really. Just here with some friends. Trying to keep a low profile.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “A guy like you, keeping a low profile? Good luck with that.”

Steve smiled, nodding toward the crowd. “Seems like it’s working so far.”

The woman laughed, but before she could say more, the crowd surged again, and someone bumped into Steve, almost spilling his drink. 

“Sorry about that,” a voice said, half-shouting over the music.

Steve turned and caught a glimpse of another woman, this one different from the others. She was barely recognizable in the strobe lights, her features blurred by the darkness, but something about the way she carried herself caught his attention. She didn’t linger too long on him, and didn't try too hard. Her smile was brief but real.

“No problem,” Steve replied, raising his voice to be heard over the music. 

“Not your scene?” she asked, leaning a little closer to be heard.

“Not exactly,” Steve admitted, putting a finger in to cover one ear.

She laughed lightly, stepping closer, her eyes catching the light for a brief second. “Same. My friend dragged me here. I’m pretty sure she thinks I need to ‘loosen up’.”

“Guess we’re in the same boat,” Steve said, feeling a bit more at ease. She had a warmth in her voice, even amidst the chaos.

Before either of them could say more, a group of partygoers surged by, and one of them grabbed Y/N’s hand, pulling her toward the dance floor. She was caught off guard, stumbling a bit before turning back toward Steve, her hand still caught in the wave.

“Come on!” she shouted over the music, her face lit up with a playful grin.

“No—I don’t think—”

Steve hesitated. He wasn’t much of a dancer—especially not in a place like this—but before he could protest, Y/N grabbed his hand, tugging him into the crowd. The pulsing rhythm of the music pounded in his chest as they were swept into the moving mass of people. The lights flashed wildly, and before Steve knew it, he was dancing, caught up in the infectious energy of the room.

Y/N laughed as they moved, her hand still in his, and Steve found himself smiling despite the overwhelming atmosphere. The strobe lights flickered, casting everything in flashes of light and shadow, and for a moment, it was easy to forget who he was, to forget the weight he usually carried.

Steve didn’t have time to react before he found himself right behind her, the sea of people pushing them closer together. The music pounded through the room, the heavy bass vibrating under their feet. Steve felt her back press against his chest, her body swaying in time with the beat.

The lights flashed, casting her in and out of shadow, but Steve was caught in the moment. She moved to the music effortlessly, her hips swinging in rhythm, her back brushing against him with every movement. He felt the warmth of her body through his shirt, the closeness sparking something inside him he hadn’t expected.

The lyrics of the song echoed through the room: “I, I, I, I just want to watch you when you take it off, take off all your makeup, baby, take it off. . . I just wanna watch you when you take it off, take off all your clothes and watch you take them off.”

Y/N's body moved in perfect sync with the music, and Steve, despite his hesitation, found himself falling into the rhythm. Her hips pressed against him, swaying seductively in time with the beat. He hesitated for a moment before resting his hands lightly on her hips, unsure but drawn in by the intensity of the moment.

The crowd pushed them even closer together, and Steve’s grip on her hips tightened instinctively. She didn’t pull away; instead, she leaned into him, moving her body against his, teasing, playful, completely in tune with the energy of the music. Her head tilted slightly, her hair brushing against his neck, and Steve felt his pulse quicken.

She bit her lower lip, glancing back at him through the lights, a playful spark in her eyes. Steve’s breath caught, his hands sliding up slightly from her waist as their bodies continued to move together. The energy between them was electric, like nothing he’d ever felt before. The music drowned out everything but the pounding of his heart and the feel of her body so close to his.

Suddenly, the crowd pushed them even closer, and in the heat of the moment, Y/N turned her head slightly, her lips brushing against his cheek. It was a brief touch, but it sent a shock through him. His grip tightened on her hips, and before either of them could think, their movements slowed, the tension between them peaking.

“I just can't wait to see it all I'm so turned on”

Y/N turned her head fully, her lips finding his in a fast, unexpected kiss. His lips were unexpectedly soft. They parted-in surprise, she thought and then she slipped her tongue inside. It had been forever since she'd done this, never had she done this, but it came to her like breathing. It was electric, quick, but charged with the energy of the moment. 

Steve’s world narrowed to just the two of them—the music, the lights, the crowd—all vanished as her lips met his. He stopped her, just for a moment, then flipped it, deepening the kiss with a flick of his tongue and a firm grip on her hip. Now it was him kissing her, her soft sigh filling the space between them. He responded with heat, his desire matching the unexpected pleasure he found in her.

The kiss only lasted a moment, but it left both of them breathless. Y/N pulled back, her eyes wide with surprise, like she hadn’t expected it either. They were still close, her breath mingling with his as they caught their bearings.

Before either of them could speak, Y/N's friends found her and pulled her with them unaware of Steve, and she was swept away, disappearing into the throng of dancers. Steve stood there, frozen for a second, his heart still racing from the kiss, his hands still tingling from where he’d touched her.

He blinked, trying to steady himself, but she was already gone, lost in the mass of people. The music still pounded around him, the lights still flashed, but all Steve could focus on was the ghost of her lips on his and the wild, unexpected energy of the night.

Steve shook his head, still trying to process what had just happened. The kiss, the way her body had fit so perfectly against his—it was all too new, too different. The way young people dance these days, he thought, he can’t believe he allowed himself to be dragged like that. It was nothing like what he was used to. He exhaled slowly, needing a moment to collect his thoughts. Pushing through the crowd, he scanned the room for Sam. He was going to get an earful for this.

Steve spotted Sam by the bar, laughing with a couple of friends, and beside him was Bucky, nursing a drink and quietly observing the room. Steve made his way over, still feeling the lingering heat of the moment and trying his best to shake it off.

Sam noticed him approaching and immediately grinned, raising his drink in greeting. “There he is! Our man of the hour!” Sam shouted over the music, his voice laced with amusement.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his expression more reserved but no less curious.

“I don’t know about that,” Steve rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the slight flush still creeping up his neck. 

Sam’s grin widened as he leaned in closer. “Come on, Cap, you’ve got that look on your face. What happened?”

Steve hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to tell them. But Sam already knew him too well, and Bucky… well, there was no escaping his sharp gaze either.

“Nothing,” Steve said with a shrug, hoping to play it off.

“Uh-huh,” Sam said, narrowing his eyes. 

“Nothing, huh?” He took a sip of his drink, but the teasing gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. “Didn’t look like ‘nothing’ when I saw you on the dance floor with… what’s her name?”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly, “You saw that?”

Sam burst out laughing, slapping Steve on the shoulder. “Oh, I saw it. The whole room probably saw it! You were practically glued to her!”

Steve groaned, rubbing his forehead. “It wasn’t like that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Oh, really? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were having a little too much fun.”

Steve shot him a glare, but the way Sam wiggled his eyebrows made it impossible to stay serious. 

Bucky, still quiet, finally smirked. “You’re not exactly blending into the background there, punk.”

“It just… happened, alright?” Steve admitted, his voice trailing off as he tried to explain. “We were dancing, and the crowd kept pushing us together. And then…”

“And then you kissed her!” Sam finished for him, laughing again. “Oh man, Cap, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I didn’t kiss her! She kissed me! It just happened—like in the heat of the moment.”

“Yeah, because ‘heat of the moment’ sounds nothing like you.” Bucky chuckled, finally downing his alcohol.

Steve shot him a look, “Who's side are you on?”

“The ‘heat of the moment’? You mean to tell me you got caught up in the lights and music and had your little dance-floor moment? That’s priceless!” Sam was practically doubled over with laughter now.

“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t even know her.” Steve couldn’t help but crack a smile despite the teasing. 

Sam straightened up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Doesn’t matter, man. That’s what makes it even better! You don’t know her, and you still ended up in some steamy dance-floor kiss? That’s wild for you.”

Steve groaned again, but the smile tugging at his lips was undeniable.

“Well, I’ll say this,” Sam said, leaning in closer with a sly grin. “You’re full of surprises, Cap. I thought you’d be sitting in a corner all night, but instead, you’re out here stealing kisses in the middle of a crowd.”

“Okay, fine. It was… unexpected. But I wasn’t exactly complaining.”

Sam raised both eyebrows in mock surprise. “Unexpected, huh? Is that what we’re calling it when you’re practically glued to someone in the middle of a party? I mean, the way you two were moving—if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were auditioning for a music video.”

Steve sighed, but a part of him couldn’t help but feel amused at the whole situation. He never expected to get caught up in something like that. 

“I didn’t even get her name,” he said, almost to himself.

Bucky tilted his head. “Classic.”

Sam’s grin softened into a knowing smile. “Well, maybe that’s the universe telling you it’s time to loosen up a little. Enjoy the ride.”

Steve smirked, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

Sam clapped him on the back again. “Look, Cap, you’ve spent your whole life saving the world. You deserve to have moments like that. Maybe even more than most people.”

Steve couldn’t argue with that. The memory of her lips on his, the way their bodies had moved together—it wasn’t something he was likely to forget anytime soon.

Sam raised his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to Captain America, finally letting loose.”

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this.” Steve chuckled and clinked his glass against Sam and Bucky's.

“You’re doing just fine, Cap,” Sam said with a wink. “Just fine.”

+ + + +

Y/N’s heels clicked against the smooth marble floors of the mansion’s foyer as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The security system beeped, and she casually entered the code, the familiar beep fading into silence. The house was large, quiet, and pristine—almost too quiet after the chaos of the party.

She kicked off her heels, phone pressed to her ear as she continued her animated conversation with her best friend.

“I’m telling you, it was insane,” Y/N laughed, still buzzing from the energy of the night. “I don’t even know how I ended up on the dance floor, but there I was, dancing like I had no care in the world. And, oh my god, there was this guy...”

She paused, biting her lip at the memory of the mysterious man she’d danced with. The lights had made it impossible to see him clearly, but the way he moved, how his hands had felt on her hips—it sent a thrill through her just thinking about it.

“I didn’t catch his name,” she continued, flopping onto the plush couch in the living room. “But we were so close, and when we kissed... girl, I don’t even know what came over me.”

Her friend gasped on the other end of the line, clearly invested in every word. “Wait, you kissed him? Who are you right now?”

“I don’t know!” Y/N laughed again—almost squealing, “It was one of those wild party moments, you know? The music was loud, people were everywhere, and then—boom—his lips were on mine.”

“Omg, didn’t you get his number?”

“No.” She frowned then she smiled to herself, enjoying the carefree thrill of the memory. “Honestly, I thought I’d regret it, but no. Imagine that? My dad would kill me.”

As she continued recounting the night, a slight rustling from the other side of the room made her pause. Y/N looked up, her heart skipping a beat as she realized she wasn’t alone. In the doorway stood Thaddeus Ross, her father, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

He cleared his throat loudly, the sound cutting through the excited chatter still flowing from her phone. Y/N froze for a moment, her eyes widening as she realized she’d been caught mid-party recap in her usually reserved father’s presence.

Her friend’s voice buzzed in her ear, still going on about the party, but Y/N quickly pulled the phone away, muttering, “I’ll call you back,” before hanging up. The excitement drained from her face, replaced by a nervous smile.

“Dad,” Y/N greeted, forcing a casual smile. “Didn’t know you’d be home.”

“Apparently, you didn’t. Sounded like quite the party.” Thaddeus Ross narrowed his eyes slightly, stepping further into the room.

Y/N stood, suddenly aware of how much she’d let herself unwind. She straightened her clothes and tried to appear nonchalant. “It was just a party with some friends. No big deal.”

Thaddeus arched an eyebrow. “Friends?”

“Yeah, friends. You know, just... normal people.” Y/N shrugged, trying to downplay the whole thing.

Thaddeus studied her for a moment, his eyes sharp, as if trying to piece together the details she hadn’t given him. 

“I see,” he finally said, his tone unreadable. “It sounded a bit more... involved than your usual nights out.”

Y/N swallowed, brushing off the heat rising in her cheeks. “It was just for fun, Dad. Nothing to worry about.”

He didn’t respond immediately, just gave her a long, assessing look. 

“You know how important it is to keep certain parts of your life secure, Y/N,” he said in that familiar, commanding tone of his. “People might take advantage if they know too much about who you really are.”

Y/N gave him a playful smile, trying to brush off his seriousness. “Dad, I’m 24. I should be out there kissing strangers at parties by now, right?”

Thaddeus didn’t smile. He simply sighed, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. 

“I wasn’t wearing a neon sign that said ‘Mr. President’s Daughter’ on it. It was just a party. I’m allowed to have fun.” Y/N rolled her eyes, her tone still light but more pointed now.

Thaddeus didn’t seem to be swayed by her attempt to joke. “Having fun is one thing, but keeping yourself safe is another. You may think these parties are harmless, but they aren’t always what they seem.”

“Dad, relax. I know how to keep myself out of trouble. I mean, come on, I live here, don’t I? No one’s getting past your fortress.” Y/N sighed, but her smile remained. 

Thaddeus gave her a long, measured look, as if deciding how much more to say. Finally, he relented just slightly, his voice softening. “It’s not just about the security, Y/N. It’s about the people you surround yourself with.”

Y/N softened her tone too, standing up to face him. “I get it, Dad. I know you’re just looking out for me, but I’m not going to live in fear. I can take care of myself.”

Thaddeus didn’t reply right away, his eyes flicking to the security system panel before returning to her. “Just... be careful. Not everyone you meet at those parties will have good intentions.”

“I know, Dad. I promise I’ll be careful.” Y/N nodded, her earlier playfulness giving way to a more serious understanding. 

Thaddeus gave a short nod, clearly not fully convinced but unwilling to push the conversation any further tonight. “Good. Just remember what I said.”

He turned and left the room, leaving Y/N standing there with the lingering weight of his words. As the tension dissolved, she let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I’m 24,” she muttered to herself, smiling at the absurdity of the situation.

“I heard that!” Thaddeus yelled from another area of the house.

“You were supposed to!” 

Despite everything, the memory of the night—the music, the dancing, the kiss—still played in her mind, and she couldn’t help but smile.

Next Chapter

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply <i>her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a <i>little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he <i>knows</i> that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and <i>fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

[gguk-n]

Can you please write second change romance with Lando where reader tells him "Love me. chose me. for once in your damned life, fight for me!"

Reader is working at sky sports as a journalist. I hope you like it. I hope I did it justice.

Track of the Heart

{Reader's POV}

I knew the world was a small place and some times you run into people you are actively trying to avoid. For me, that was Lando Norris.

We were both young and in love. He was my first serious adult relationship. I loved him deeply; if you asked drunk me, I'd probably say that I still love him. But that was the past. He broke up with me because his fans didn't like me. The hate had gotten to the point that I had stopped using my phone except to call or text my friends and family and Lando knew. I had told him through tears about all the mean things people said about me. Part of me hoped that he would tell them off for it but what I didn't expect was for him to disregard it and let it get so bad that even at races people would name call me, even in front of Lando and he would do nothing. It affected my health, my mental peace and my studies. So, I did what was best for me; walked away.

That was 3 years ago. Right now I was standing face to face with the man that broke my heart. I knew when I applied for a position at Sky Sports that I would run into Lando. Luckily, I had stayed clear of him for the year that I had interned there; by only going to cover other sports and minor leagues. Today, the team was short staffed, they needed someone to help make the scripts and organise the cue cards, so they brought along a couple new hires. I did everything in my power to evade the race because it would mean being stuck on an F1 venue for a whole weekend with my ex. My direct superior wouldn't listen to any of my crap, as he put it and told me to pack my stuff and to meet him at the venue.

So here I was, awkwardly standing, in front of the supposed love of my life. He looked shocked to see me before his eyes flickered to the Sky Sports entry pass, as if a switch flipped. He smiled and greeted; "You're finally a sports journalist, like you always wanted to be. Congratulations" he said while raising his hand to shake mine. Out of courtesy, I moved all the files in my hands to my left and shook his hand. "My colleagues were saying you had your maiden win this season, so Congratulations I guess." I retorted. I adjusted the files in my hands, almost dropping one, which Lando quickly caught with his hand. I thanked him and left to see the team with all my files.

{Lando's POV}

Her hands were still soft like I remembered them with a sweet tinge of vanilla, her favourite body lotion. She had coloured her hair recently and she looked so much more professional and put together then I remembered. I guess it comes with the job. Hearing her congratulate me felt like home even if it felt like it was laced with sarcasm, like the only thing that ever mattered. How did I even celebrate a race without her? She was still clumsy I thought as I caught the file she almost dropped. The weekend just got more eventful I thought as she walked away.

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

{Reader's POV}

If there is one thing I will advice you is that don't be a hard worker especially in a situation if it will land you working with your ex for the whole year. One of the members from the F1 team went on maternity leave and she spoke so highly of me that I ended up working on the races till she returned. Now to my horror, all the fans still remembered me. Even after 3 years, they did not hesitate to start up rumours about me and Lando being together and that we never really broke up and it was all a publicity stunt. I had to speak to my bosses to let them know that all of that was in the past and that I wasn't dating him anymore; they didn't care unless it affected my work.

Working at the paddock wasn't easy and Lando didn't make it any easier. He acted like a menace before and after interviews especially if I was around. Sometimes I wanted to strangle him.

{Lando's POV}

Being around her reminded me why I had fallen in love with her in the first place. She brought the idiotic side of me out. "Mate, you need to stop annoying Y/N. She'll strangle you one day." Carlos said while they were on the drivers parade. "She wouldn't. There's a reason she's tolerating me." I said. "Yeah, sky sports pays her to do her job." Carlos laughed. Part of me wanted to believe that she tolerated me because she still loved. But I knew that was selfish of me, since the reason we broke up lay heavily on me.

This made me want to be closer to her. I guess proximity made the heart softer. I found myself bringing her snacks or treats during her long days. Slowly but surely I found myself back in her arms. We didn't out right say it, but we were dating each other. She made the weekends even more enjoyable. It was exhilarating to be running around trying not to get caught; until we did get caught. It was like a switch flipped inside her and she stopped seeing me.

{Reader's POV}

The gifts and the sneaking away and having someone care for me got to me. Before I knew it I was back in Lando's arms. I knew getting back together with Lando was a bad idea. All my suspicions were confirmed when a picture of us leaving together from a club in Las Vegas made rounds. The hate was worse then before; it's like they forgot there was a person behind it all. I couldn't even shut off social media because of my work. I didn't want to be seen with him anymore; I was going to stop reporting for F1 and live my life covering other sports. Hopefully they didn't find me there. Lando was still persistent even after I had stopped talking to him and cut him off.

"Babe, you gotta stop running away from me." Lando spoke cornering me, out of breath from the running. "I have work to do, if you'll excuse me Mr Norris." I said. "Since, when was I Mr Norris?" He questioned. "Since a while, I never should've gotten back with you." I declared. "You don't mean that." Lando stammered. "Actually I do." saying that broke my heart because deep down I loved him but it didn't feel like he loved me. "But I love you. Don't you love me?" he asked. "It doesn't matter what I feel, when you'll never reciprocate it." I pointed out. "What do you mean?" he pleaded. "Lando, the exact reason we broke up was because you couldn't stick up for me. I knew you and yet I got myself involved in this." I sighed. "But, baby I need you." he voiced. I laughed, there were tears in my eyes, "Not enough to stick up for me." "What's gotten into you?" Lando probed. "Nothing's gotten into me, I should've stayed away from you. Your fans hate me, they always have. They want me fired; did you know that?" I asked. Lando was at a loss for words.

"You know when we broke up I wanted you to want me. But you love your fans more." I commented. "It's not like that I love you more, I missed you a lot after we broke up." he said. "Not enough to clear the air anyways." I voiced out. "What do you want me to do?" Lando asked trying to reach for my hands. "Love me, choose me. For once in your damned life, fight for me. If you really want me you'll do something, or you can watch me walk away for the second time." I stated while turning on my heels and leaving.

I did not expect Lando to do what he did next. He made a statement on every social media account of his, even Quadrants; it read-

Hi guys, Lando here. I would like to let you all know that I love Y/N Y/L/N who is currently working for Sky Sports F1. We used to date a few years ago but we broke up because of my foolishness. Fate gave me another chance and I don't want to blow it. If any of you have any issue with her, keep it to yourself. Because she is here to stay for as long as she will have me. Kindly refrain from sending her any hate if you love and support me. If you do send hate, I will be forced to take legal action to protect the love of my life.

I was sat in shock reading the statement. I can already imagine the train wreck McLaren PR must be in. I was pulled out of my thoughts by a knock on my door. I opened it to find a sweaty Lando with a big bouquet of flowers, chocolates and a couple gift bags. "I know this isn't a lot, but this is a start. Let me apologise. I'm sorry for all the hurt I caused you. Please take me back." he said with tears in his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I love you too Lando Norris." I declared. Lando dropped all the stuff on the ground and wrapped his arms around me. "I won't let you down, I promise." he said. "I'll hold you to it." I said. "You can hold it against me for the rest of our lives." he told. "I don't think you want me that long." I laughed. He broke our embrace to cup my cheeks, "I'll have you as long as you'll let me stay." and pressed a kiss against my lips. "I think I'll like to have you inside for now." I said while pulling him in and closing the door.

[coldbronzemoon]

Danny Fenton, Totally Mortal Hero Consultant (DPxDC)

Snippet for an AU I'll probably never fully write where Danny takes a job as a consultant for the Justice League to help with ghost and demon bullshit. It's a pretty good cash flow to help him with college, after all, and very flexible hours.

He just claims all his knowledge comes from his parents. Unfortunately, the JL has caught word of the elusive yet active hero Phantom, and want Danny to help them meet and assess him. Whoops.

Over the phone, Tucker sighed. “Good Christ, Danny, why do you keep doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Danny said immediately. He winced at the vague sound of screaming below. Demons sucked. “I didn’t know the JL thing was gonna have me finding Phantom. How would I? They were talking about tracking down powerful ghosts, I was assuming Ancients!”

Tucker sighed again, which was really quite unfair of him. “Mhm. Well, Fenton Catcher?”

“Probably not. They know me pretty well at this point, and unlike what Sam says I can be professional. I’d confuse them with the… uh…”

“Stoner shtick?”

There was more screaming happening, but judging from the pitch it was a demon screaming this time. Danny checked the situation. Yep, demon getting their ass kicked. He didn’t need to get involved with a blaster. Yet.

Instead, he scowled at his phone. “Stop calling it that.”

“You’re gonna tell me flanny Danny wasn’t a pitch-perfect stoner, huh? With the chill vibing and the dopey look?”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, bud.” 

The sound of a clacking keyboard that had underlined their conversation stopped. “But seriously, Danny, what the hell are you gonna do with this?”

“Uh, lie, probably,” Danny said, because it was very likely.

“Alright, smartass, what are you going to do when that lie backfires on you like literally every other one does?”

“That’s when I start gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing, babe.”

He had a hard time hearing Tucker’s distant groan of “Why am I still your friend?” on account of the sudden explosion. Danny checked again. Hm. Demon dude had a nasty fire thing going on.

Danny switched on his Fenton water gun—holy water included!-- and shot the demon in the face. They let out a cracking hiss of rage, but dropped the fire spell thing. He waited for them to stop looking around wildly for the culprit for a moment. 

He went back to the call. “‘Cause you loooove me, Tuck. From the bottom of your twice-dead heart.”

“Unfortunately,” Tucker deadpanned.

Danny just cackled. It was lost amongst the sound of supernatural bullshit below.

“Anyway, I’m still figuring out my plan A, honestly. Might bring in gray-man?”

“Amorpho’s an asshole, though. He’ll ruin the whole thing by taking the opportunity to shift into a JL member for a bit.”

Hm. True.

“Yeah, but he’s the main guy I know with that power set.”

“Ask after Desiree?” He could hear the immediate distaste in Tucker’s voice. “Ugh, pretend I didn’t say that. That’s worse than Amorpho.”

“It’s awful,” Danny agreed easily. 

Desiree was actually pretty alright nowadays, mostly on account of Danny remembering the last couple minutes of Aladdin and wishing she could refuse wishes she didn’t want to grant. That had made her happy enough to stop actively picking fights. 

Unfortunately, spending the entirety of one’s afterlife twisting the wording of wishes to their worst form made it hard to stop being an asshole. Who knew! So getting Desiree to split him in two for like a week had a 50/50 chance of fucking up his work relationship with the literal league of superheroes irrevocably. And this was his main cash flow right now.

So, no Desiree, no siree.

“Come up with something better then, asshole.”

Danny hummed and, since the heroes below were focused on the demon, lifted up a little and did a thoughtful back flip. What to do, what to do…?

Oh!

“My cousin!” he exclaimed.

“What cous—? Oh, Ellie.”

“Yeah, Ellie, Tuck. Which other cousins do I have?”

Tucker scoffed. “You literally have that whole Nightingale thing going on through your dad?”

Danny couldn’t help the face he made. The remaining Nightingales were worse than his parents somehow. “The Nightingales don’t count.”

“You can’t just say they don’t count.”

“I can say that, actually, and I will. They’re, like, cousins through my great-great-great-grandpa anyway.”

“Isn’t there a fight going on over there? Should you be shooting someone?”

 “Yeah, probably.”

He peaked down through the window once more. The heroes must have gotten the first demon to leave while he was talking, because the horned demon fighting them now was a truly unfortunate shade of yellow-green instead of purple. Or maybe it had transformed for some reason? They had it about as in-hand as the other one, though, so Danny definitely didn’t need to go down there. He shot the maybe-new demon in the face real quick.

“Anyway, Ellie can totally help out, she’s been practicing with changing up her looks. She’s also more, uh, malleable than me, what with her situation and all. Looking fully like Phantom shouldn’t be hard.”

Tucker hummed. “She’d try to embarrass you though.”

“Yeah, that’s a problem.” Danny spun in place. “I could bribe her?”

“With what? Her life doesn’t involve needing much cash.”

“She doesn’t get out to the Zone very much. Not many of the inhabited places, anyway. I can promise her the weird apple things Dora’s been growing with Sam’s help, she loved those.”

“If you think that’ll work…” Tucker trailed off dubiously.

Danny laughed. “She’s annoying sometimes, but she’s not gonna fuck over my job if I ask her not to. I’ll just bribe her extra hard for resisting the temptation to mock me.”

“Fair enough.” The clacking of keys resumed. “I’ve really gotta pay attention now, someone’s trying to stop me from getting into this database. Someone half-decent, actually, did they upgrade? Hm. Make sure no one died, yeah?”

“They’re alive. Bye, Tuck,” Danny said, and ended the call.

He shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket and made his way down the stairs. The fight outside he had been stationed for was basically over—Captain Marvel and Green Lantern (Danny was pretty sure he had accidentally learned the dude’s actual name at some point, but hell if he could remember)—had pulled out the magic restraints one of the other consultants had handed out.

That had probably been Constantine. Ugh. Constantine. Dude could stand to lighten up a little; skulking and smoking all the time wasn’t the base state of someone enjoyable to be around. Then again, Danny knew he annoyed the shit out of some of the league with his own attitude, so he maybe shouldn’t talk. But at least he was annoying with a smile!

Case in point: Danny grinned at the heroes. “Got it handled?”

“Suppose so,” said the Green Lantern, “though a little more help would have been nice.”

Captain Marvel was too busy getting in a minor tussle with the demon to say anything either way.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m like, pretty mortal,” Danny said. “I’m not fucking with demons right where they can hit me. And I did shoot him!”

Green Lantern rolled his eyes, but admitted the point. Danny cheerfully flipped him off anyway.

“I’ll be heading out, then, the hellmouth this guy crawled out of is like three miles away.” Captain Marvel said, hauling the handcuffed demon over his shoulders like a very angry backpack.

“Oh, one more for the road!” 

Danny hit the demon with a final water gun shot. Hissing and scrunching their face like a cat, the demon tried to lunge at him. It wasn’t very successful. Weirdly non-verbal for a demon, who usually had to talk to make deals and steal mortal souls, but Danny wouldn’t judge. Might be a minor demon. A really basic imp? Who knew.

“Stop being a little bitch and you won’t get spray-bottled, asshole,” Danny chided.

With a loud laugh, Captain Marvel sped away.

[penkura]

knowing [5/8]

Summary: Sanji knew you were the one the moment he met you.

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

Warnings: None really. Normal One Piece stuff I guess.

Note: I love Dressrosa, Sanji got to go on a date lol. But obviously things are different here. ;) This one is also a little shorter, I wasn't sure what to do with this, but I'm fairly happy with it. Next week will be much longer! And on time I swear omg.

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4]

With the events of Fishman Island behind you, arriving on Punk Hazard, you drew straws with everyone willing to venture to the burning side of the island, being one to join Luffy, Zoro, Robin, and Usopp to scope the place out. You promised Sanji you’d be fine, you’d stick by Zoro even thought Sanji didn’t like that either, he knew you trusted Zoro as much as you trusted him. You knew Sanji would be fine taking care of the rest of your crewmates, even when you make it to the frozen side of the island and see things have gone a bit awry, as your friends are now all swapped around thanks to one Warlord.

“Okay, okay,” you looked between the four as Usopp took out a notepad and pencil to keep things straight, “So, Franky is in Chopper’s body.”

“Super right, buddy!”

“And, Chopper is in Sanji’s body.”

Sanji, or, well, Chopper nodded, starting to cling onto you which felt weird even though it was your boyfriend’s body it was Chopper’s mind.

“Nami is in Franky’s body.”

Nami-Franky was nearly in tears, poor Nami crying over not being herself.

“And…” You looked over the to the last member of your crew, smiling when see they aren’t looking at you, “Sanji is in Nami’s body.”

Slight nod, you nearly laughed at the whole situation, while everyone was wondering how to fix it. You weren’t sure you knew the answer, but thought Trafalgar Law was your only way of getting the whole thing fixed.

You all take to just calling your swapped friends by their names, you taking a seat by Sanji and patting his back while he kept his head in his hand, not having fully looked at you since you showed up. Being in Nami’s body must’ve been a lot for him to take in, especially considering his relationship with you.

“We’ll get you back to normal, Sanji. It’ll be okay.”

He stayed quiet for several moments, before finally turning to give you a hug that you returned.

“It’s probably weird,” Sanji said while almost burrowing into your shoulder, “but I just need a minute, I’ll be fine…”

“I know, I know.”

It was a little weird, to hear his voice coming from Nami, but for the time being, you’d have to accept it. It wouldn’t change anything about your relationship, it was only temporary. Even when Sanji left with Zoro and Brook to go after the torso-less Kin’emon, you stayed with the rest of your crew, helping calm the withdrawal suffering and mostly giant children, as Luffy and Franky ran to save Nami from whoever snatched her thinking she was Franky.

Once Luffy and the others return, with Trafalgar Law at their side, and an alliance planned thanks to Luffy not stopping to ask anyone else. You were all for it, making Nami mostly yell at you after she was swapped into Sanji’s body.

Nami in Sanji’s body was even weirder than the other swaps, but it felt stranger when Nami hugged you as she cried over now being in your boyfriend’s body instead of her own. You looked over at Law, giving him a slight glare that he returned.

“What?”

“I kind of hate you right now.”

You were glad later that day when Law finally switched the two back. Sanji was so happy that the second he got the chance, he hugged you so tightly before running off to help Tashigi and the other Marines while you went on with Nami and the others to help Chopper stop the children from getting the spiked candy.

“I’m glad for you and Sanji,” Nami made a slight face that caused you to laugh, “But thank God I’m back in my body, I didn’t want you guys being weird while we were swapped.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry!! All we did was hug!”

“Still weird.”

Robin smiled hearing your conversation and the near cackle you let out at Nami’s reaction.

Personally, she was just glad Franky wasn’t in Chopper’s body anymore.

+!+

“That little brat.”

“Sanji. He’s a child.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

You fought back a laugh at the scowl on Sanji’s face while Momonosuke, one of the children you’d helped rescue from Punk Hazard with his father Kin’emon, slept on your lap. Of course, you knew the child had a bit of a bias towards women, whether because he didn’t have his mother or because of perverted reasons, you didn’t want to know really. You preferred to just view him like your little brothers, someone who needed some comfort and attention.

“He reminds me of my youngest brother,” You smiled a bit, watching Momonosuke while Sanji watched you still, “He was four when I left home, I felt awful cause he was crying and holding onto my leg so tightly…I almost stayed.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you looked over and gave Sanji a smile that he returned. “He was the baby before the new one my mom was pregnant with, we really thought he was going to be the last one.”

“There are nine of you now?”

“Yep.”

Sanji quietly nodded, turning back to his dinner prep and trying to decide if he should say something else, before finally doing so.

“I’m…one of five.”

“…really?”

“Mm,” Sanji knew you were just watching his back, he was still trying to word things, that was the second thing he’d ever told you about his family, the first being his mother’s name, “I have one older sister…and three brothers, two older and one younger. My brothers and I were quadruplets.”

Your eyes widened and you had the sudden fear of having quadruplets yourself, before Sanji, who turned around to see your fear, quickly calming you down by saying his parents had help and there was no record of natural multiples of that many in his family line, you were safe. At the most you could have twins one day, but even that was rare.

Once Sanji had talked you down from running away with a million bunny trails, he sat beside you and watched Momonosuke sleep.

“I guess he’s kind of cute.”

“Kids are always cute when they sleep.”

The three of you are quiet for a bit, Sanji thinking of different things while watching you and Momonosuke. He wondered if you wanted to be a mom one day, do you actually want kids with him? He’d heard you and Nami talking about the kids from Punk Hazard, how you wanted to help them and the soft spot you both had for children. Having watched you the last couple days, on your trip to Dressrosa, as you spent time with Momonosuke and helped care for him, it made him want to have children with you so much sooner than you probably should or could.

Of course, he wanted to marry you first, but he had decided you would be a wonder mother one day, if that was what you wanted.

Luffy nearly broke into the kitchen a few moments later, shouting that you’d all arrived at Dressrosa, and it was time to get off the ship.

You had already been enlisted by Law to come with him to help hand over Caesar to Doflamingo, which Sanji didn’t particularly like as he was supposed to stay on Sunny with Nami, Chopper, Momonosuke, and Brook. While he trusted Law as an ally, the way you two seemed to be hanging out more and getting closer, it made Sanji a little jealous to see, but he was trying to push it aside after you’d forgiven him for his indiscretions with seeing the mermaids on Fishman Island.

He didn’t want to do anything to lose you.

+!+

"Hey, come with me, moss head."

Zoro didn't have a chance to argue with Sanji about going elsewhere before the blond pulled him into a store by his sleeve. He didn't even get to see what kind of shop he'd been dragged into, what if it was a place he didn't want to be? Once he did see it was a jewelry store, Zoro grumbled to himself about how stupid of a place this was for him to be, he didn't need anything more. His three earrings were more than enough. Why did Sanji even want to be here?

"Hey, what the hell are we doing here?"

"Shut up for a minute." Sanji growled out a bit, before turning back to the store clerk and handing the man a ring, asking to see anything in that size. Once the clerk brought over several rings that matched, Sanji started looking at them closely while Zoro watched him for a few minutes.

He finally had a thought about what Sanji was doing, but there was no way right?

He definitely wasn't doing what Zoro thought he was doing, despite his mumbling to himself about what was too gaudy or too ugly for you.

"What are you doing, curly brow?"

Stopping for a second, Sanji held a small ring in his hand before he looked at Zoro.

"I want to ask [Y/N] to marry me. I don't know when yet, but I want to do it soon."

He really was doing exactly what Zoro thought he was doing. Sanji was trying to choose an engagement ring for you. He'd probably only dragged Zoro into the shop with him so the swordsman wouldn't get lost, but the fact he even told Zoro what was doing was a surprise. You had gone with Law, Robin, and Usopp to hand off Caesar to Doflamingo if all went well, so there was no chance of you randomly walking in and finding out about this before he was ready to ask.

Sanji had known for a while that he wanted to marry you. If you all hadn't separated for two years, he believed he would have asked much sooner, but he also knew things would work out the way he hoped and planned either way. Whether he asked tomorrow or in another year, he felt certain you'd say yes. After watching you with Momonosuke since he and Kin’emon had joined you all, he knew his decision to ask you was going to be the right one, he knew you were going to be a great mother to whatever children you may have in the future.

Zoro was surprised Sanji hadn't asked you to marry him yet. He saw the gross, lovesick look the chef always gave when you were around him, the far off look in his eyes when he'd watch you spending time with someone else on the ship, and even the tiniest bit of visible jealousy as you spoke with Law about the plans he had for you all in Dressrosa. He knew you were the same way, lovesick looks when Sanji wasn't paying attention, you'd told Zoro many things that he didn't need or want to hear about how you loved the blond, and the way you'd be the first to offer to help clean and wash dishes after dinner.

There were even the few moments Zoro would catch you two on the deck, against the railing. Sanji would have an arm around you, leaning in to whisper whatever he had to say, which more often than not would make you blush and giggle a bit, doing the same to keep your conversation private. Zoro couldn't hear the likely gross, lovey-dovey  things you were saying to each other to elicit such reactions, and he didn't want or need to know.

If your relationship was out in the open for everyone to know about, Zoro could only imagine how gross you two would be.

"Surprised you haven't asked her yet."

"Yeah well," Sanji handed the ring he'd chosen to the clerk, who walked off to get it rang up while he took a drag from his cigarette, "Things have been moving so quickly lately we've barely had time alone as it is."

"You gonna ask her once this is done with?"

Taking the bag once he'd paid for the ring, Sanji shook his head while he and Zoro left the jewelry store. "No, I don't think so. I want to ask at the right moment."

"Better not make her wait forever," Zoro smirked a bit, but he knew Sanji wasn't going to take too much longer to pop the question to you, "Who knows, she might fall for Traffy if you do."

"Don't joke about that, you lame ass moss head!"

+!+

Dressrosa was freed in a day, you were glad when the birdcage came down and knew Luffy had taken down Doflamingo, finally. Your part was to help the townspeople after you worked with Robin and Usopp to stop Sugar’s Devil Fruit powers, having run off after your call with Luffy’s group and Sanji’s on the Sunny. Despite your concern for your friends, you were also worried for the regular people who had no part in the whole ordeal. Even with Marines around you tried to be sneaky, as a kunoichi should be, and slip around to help anyone who needed it, but especially the children that had been separated from their parents or other family members. Every moment and reunion made you miss your own parents and siblings, but also made you grateful to have the chance to make a difference in someone else’s life.

After your few days of rest in Kyros’ home and quick escape from the kingdom, you were glad to he back on a ship, even if it wasn’t the Sunny, returning to water made you even happier than you would’ve expected it to, even though it had only been a few days.

Much of your time during your trip to Zou was spent with Robin and Law, Zoro noticed. Or course you’d be near to Robin, she was like the big sister you never had, but Law was a surprise. He didn’t seem like the kind of person you’d be drawn to, let alone friends with, but maybe there was something else going on.

He was joking when be told Sanji you could go after Law if the blond tool too long to propose to you, it wasn’t a real thought in his mind at the time.

Eventually you tale a break from everyone and go to Zoro, sitting beside him and leaning into his arm, which makes him nod towards Law and Robin.

“What’s going on there?”

“Oh, I was just getting an idea of Traffy’s plan. He’s really got things all figured out.”

“Not what I meant.”

Tilting your head, you look back to them, before realizing what Zoro meant and feeling your face heat up.

“Oh. Oh! No, no, no, Zoro, nothing like that!”

“Look just cause the cook isn’t here and you’re still a secret doesn’t mean—”

“Zoro. Trust me. Law is cool and all that, but I’m not attracted to him. Sanji’s the only one for me.”

Zoro shrugged a bit, going back to his drink your interrupted him from. He does believe you, he’d been watching and the look in your eyes while you talked to Law, it wasn’t at all like the one you have when you look at Sanji. That look you have when you’re in love with someone, completely smitten and enthralled by them, you’ve only ever given that look to Sanji ever since you met.

“You’ll be back with your weird boyfriend soon.”

Giggling, you nod and close your eyes, just thinking about seeing Sanji again.

See you in Zou, Sanji.

[msxrik]

Hii, I just came across your masacrik x reader post, it was AMAZINGGG! It’s so hard to find a post on him😭

anyway, I was wondering if I could request a masacrik x playful and disobedient rabbit(ish?) reader smut? Where reader constantly annoys him, only to snicker when he gets angry. So one day he puts her in her place.

Ex: she messes with his tools while he’s experimenting or knocks over important things/Stuff.

(Sorry it’s long, feel free to ignore<3)

HAII THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST. ILL DO MY BEST

Masacrik x Bunny!reader

Cw: kinky, choking, bottom masacrik later? Bunny!reader. Blood (only a bit). Mention of a dead body, smut with no plot

Msacarik calls reader Zaika as thats a russian term for bunny

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You knew what this man was capable of but you just didn't care did you? There was no fear in you. Just now, you sat in his Lab. He told you thousands of times that you're not allowed in there but at this point he gave up. You were sitting on a little table with all the tools watching what he was doing. He seemed.. mad. No irritated. Which is not a good sign at all. But you? You decided to use that to break him.

-What are you doing to that guy?-you asked, your hand landing on his head stroking his hair gently

-Zaika, stop distracting me. -he growled. At first when you started acting that way he wanted to scare you. But nothing worked so he just had to accept it. For now.

You on the other hand decided to mess with the already angry doctor more. Knocking off his tools from the table just as he wanted to reach for them. He just clicked his tounge loudly, grabbing you by your collar and slamming you onto the operating table as he kicked down the body off there first

-Ah.. masik...-

-Not a word from you. You are going to face your punishment now dear. -the smirk on his face made you shiver.

-Mmhm i hope it wont disappoint me..-you laughed.

That made Masacrik Snap one of his big hands landed on your neck, as the other one was ripping down the fabric of your skirt

You clawed at his hand for a moment but as he lets go he heard a big Yelp from you,

-You enjoyed that didn't you? Needy bitch. -he whispers unbuttoning his pants.

As he got rid of his clothes-and ripped yours apart- you got dragged by your hair to lay on your stomach with your face near his Dick as he was standing beside the operating table. You knew what to do already deepthroating the doctor which made him shiver and moan silently as he grasped your hair.

Mhm~ keep going, such a good girl for Daddy right..,? Oh fuck.. i might forgive you if this keeps up..~

The praise went straight to your crotch as you choked around his length.

Not long after he came down your throat and pulled out. You as the playful little bunny you are you pulled him by his lab coat and kissed him deeply with his cum still in your mouth. As you pulled away his eyes were wide open

-Zaika.. you're digging your own grave..

-Yeah.. but im the only one who can please you till you start crying doctor

Trying to hide the redness on his face He walked around the table to the side where your legs were hanging off grabbing you by them and switching your position so you were laying on your back. His hands keeping your legs open as he slides inside you

-A-ah~ what. Embarrassed..? -You giggled earning a harsh thrust from him

-awhh~ i love it when you're flustered..-you moaned out as his pace picked up.

The Man only scoffed digging his nails into your thighs drawing blood, but you were right. The lewdness of the whole situation. The way you were squeezing around him moaning like a bitch in heat he wanted to breed you so badly the thoughts got him red in the face and almost falling apart. His hands were shaking a bit. He was moaning- no whining as he was getting close

You bit your lip drawing blood from it. As it trickled down your chin you smiled at him

A-ah Masik.. d-dont- not insidee~

You teased him. You knew you had nothing to say but you wanted to get him going even more.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he grabbed you by the neck squeezing. His other hand played with your chest. The sudden lack of oxygen, the pleasure mixed with pain made you cum around him. But what would it be without you making it a big scene?

You moaned and whined his name scratching his hand.

He came right inside you making sure to stuff you good. After that he pulled away. With the intention the end this "session".

But just as he was about to turn away you sat up on the table and with all your might you grabbed him by his lab coat and slammed him onto the flat surface. He looked at you surprised as you sat on top of him hoovering against his crotch

-What its not like only you get to cum twice masik.. also i hope to see some tears from you-

You moaned the lust clouded over your vision you knew this wasn't gonna end well but the doctor seemed pretty...calm?

You unbuttoned his shirt and started kissing his chest. He covered his face. But he didn't push you away. So you kept going. Undoing his pants and rubbing yourself against his lenght. You made such a mess out of his clothes as the cum was dripping out. But the only thing you cared for was to see him overstimulated at this point

-Mnghh~ zaika~ you're going to regret thi- Haah~

He threw his head back as you slid him inside again. Picking up a harsh pace

Noo no-he sobbed- im still se-sensitive hngg!~

You laughed in his face. Seeing him like that made your whole fear of this man disappear.

-You cryiinn? You're acting like a whore,

He started gripping your waist to stop you from moving whining. Tears streaming down his face.

-S-shut up.. oh im bout to- fuuuck...,~

He moaned out as you stopped moving just as you felt him twitching inside you

Wha-why did you stoop...-He was trying to move his hips on his own but his legs were shaking too much

I dont know if you deserve it masik...

-Yes! Yes i do of course i do! I- please im begging you...

It was unusual of him pleading for anything so you granted his request and started moving again as he threw his head back and came crying out your name.

He was so easy to play with you found it amusing.

As you both calmed down you only heard your name. And looking at his face he seemed pretty mad about this whole situation.

Oh what have you done

/////////////////

Bro i would be shivering in my boots

[liillyliilly]

Shirts To Victory

sawamura daichi x reader words; 2504 synopsis; trading shirts with you so you can take your test never ended up feeling so good

Sawamura Daichi is mature.

Sawamura Daichi is responsible.

And most importantly, Sawamura Daichi is caring.

She, however, lacked a lot of those things. Especially the whole being a responsible person thing. And that’s how she got into her current situation.

The thing about Karasuno is that to be honest, Karasuno’s academic expectations were a bit strict.

You have to wear your uniform when taking tests. And she had a natural hatred against the uniform. And she was just naturally forgetful. So, when the testing season comes around she ends up in a predicament.

The class was clearing out, and Daichi sat at his desk, reviewing some volleyball notes since he had a free period next class.

“Hey, Daichi.” She had a few classes with the brown-haired volleyball captain. Naturally, she became acquaintances with the boy.

“Oh, hi.” Daichi has never been one to be flustered, especially with the pressure of having to stay calm as a captain.

Something about her made him feel all bubbly inside. Like the way Nishinoya acted when he received a difficult serve. Or how Suga felt when he was called in to be the setter. His feeling was likely the same as Hinata’s when he could finally land a quick attack.

“So, I’ve got an important question for you.” She pondered if Daichi would care to even listen to her. She was never truly close with him, but his demeanor comforted her. She is sure that he also made other people feel that way.

“I might just have an answer.” Daichi shifted his body to face her. That’s when he noticed it. She wasn’t wearing the uniform, she was wearing a pair of black slacks and an oversized lilac blouse.

The bell rang out for students to head to their next class. At the sound, she turned visibly distressed. She set her hands on Daichi’s shoulders, forcing him to make eye contact with her. Daichi swallowed thickly, he had never been this close to her before and it was making his body burst spots of heat dotting up his neck.

“Quick! Switch shirts with me so I can take my test!”

Daichi swore he could just faint.

“You want me, to-to switch shirts, wi-with you?” Daichi choked out. The words felt like peanut butter in his mouth, sticking to his teeth.

“Yes. And my math test is starting soon. So well, strip.” She felt her face heat up. Maybe asking Daichi to help her with something like this would finally overtake tripping her toddler cousin as the worst experience of her life.

“Oka-okay.” Daichi stood up and reached behind him to tug on the collar of his shirt. She quickly turned around, covering her face with her hand.

“Here.” Daichi slid his black shirt off and onto the desk. Crossing his arms, he turned around so she could take off her shirt.

Soon, she was sitting in her math class wearing a large shirt that smelt strongly of volleyball and evergreen. And she knew that Sawamura Daichi would never be getting this uniform shirt back unless he happened to try and pry it from her cold dead hands.

Daichi sat wearing the tight purple blouse and covering his face in embarrassment. At least he was alone in the classroom.

Sugawara was looking for his best friend, and after looking around the gym, he figured his best bet was to go to Daichi’s class. And when he saw his best friend in the blouse he just knew that this was a prime example of the lengths he would go to.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Daichi, where’d you get the shirt? I might want one of my own.” Suga tapped his chin with his pointer finger.

“Stop it.” Daichi turned and faced his best friend. “I’m doing a favor.”

“The things you do for love.” Daichi shrugged.

When school was over, Daichi and his shirt thief met in his classroom.

“Thanks, for everything. I mean it.” She picked at the rim of the shirt, “Most people wouldn’t even think of doing that.”

Daichi put a hand behind his head, messing his hair up. But she still thought he looked great.

“Well, I guess I’m not most people then. Because I would do it all over again.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Do you want your shirt back?” She offered, feeling slightly upset at losing the piece of Daichi she had grown attached to.

“I have plenty of others. You can keep that one.“ Daichi cringed, realizing just words made him sound like he didn’t want back something she had touched. “Unless you don’t want it that is.”

“Oh, I want this shirt. Daichi, you can keep my blouse. I was meaning to get rid of it anyway.”

“I think I look pretty good, Purple is kinda my color, don’t ya think?”

The pair laughed and kept joking about the situation until Daichi had to go to practice.

Wearing the blouse.

And she walked home with a couple of her friends.

Wearing the uniform top.

“Hinata, how much of that did you see?” Daichi rubbed his eyelids in exasperation.

Hinata always managed to be in the wrong place at just the wrong time. He had seen the shirt exchange and heard the conversation post-shirt exchange.

“Well, um, I honestly didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation with that girl. I just wanted you to give me a few critiques on how to improve my defense.” Hinata jumped up and down trying to explain his side of the story.

“Hinata. I will not hesitate to tell Kageyama not to throw you any more balls.”

Hinata saluted Daichi and marched off to where Kageyama was warming up.

Daichi smiled to himself, looking down at the blouse before changing into his jersey. Carefully folding the blouse he put it into his sports duffel bag.

“Okay! Let’s get started!” Daichi clapped his hands bringing all attention to him.

That wasn’t quite the end of his time with her. Kiyoko made sure of that. She had had enough of Daichi retelling the same story about her friend, she ended up cleverly crafting a solution. At least this way, there would be a new story to hear.

She honestly didn’t know what compelled her to accept Kiyoko’s offer. It was her massive crush on Sawamura Daichi doing all the talking and agreeing.

“Wait? You want to go, in place of me, with Daichi to the sports festival?” Kiyoko hesitantly holds out the packet to be filled out for the Festival Participants. (Kiyoko contemplated her potential in taking an acting class.)

“Yeah, sure! What’s the worst that could happen?” She gave a toothy grin and happily took the packet from Kiyoko.

“I would have Yachi go, but she promised to help Hinata and Kageyama study. And I’m busy trying to get some documents filed away for the Volleyball Club’s next training camp.” Kiyoko lets out a sigh but quickly recomposes herself.

“The sports festival can’t be that bad! All the captains go with their oldest manager and compete in games for a fundraiser, simple as that.” She felt confident in her ability to do the games. They were straightforward and made her want to participate instead of just watching them happen.

“As simple as it seems, I’m just letting you know now, Daichi has a fierce passion for victory.” Kiyoko shivered and then shook her head, “It is unparalleled. So you might want to start conditioning yourself sooner rather than later.”

After bidding the gorgeous girl farewell, she went home.

She inspected her teeth in the mirror, before speaking the words that had been rumbling around in her brain. “Daichi can’t be that bad. Can he?” Scratching her head, and putting the matter to the side.

When the month had finally passed, it was now the day of the official Karasuno Sports Festival Fundraiser.

She had worn what Kiyoko had given her, a simple t-shirt with Volleyball printed on the back in a bold font, and a pair of orange shorts with black stripes down the sides. Pulling her hair up, someone tapped her shoulder.

Sawamura Daichi. Volleyball Captain. Perfect male specimen. And of course, the only boy to ever grasp her attention for longer than a week.

“Nice to see you again Daichi.” She shook the hand that he outstretched for her.

“When Kiyoko told me that you were going to be taking her place, I was pretty excited.” Daichi admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“When Kiyoko asked me to take her place I was excited too! I’ve always wanted to be in the Sports Festival, but it just never worked out.”

“Well, I earnestly hope you and I can properly represent the Volleyball club.” Daichi began to stretch, she mimicked his motions.

To be frank, she was glad that the boy's outfits were what they were. A t-shirt with sleeves stopping at the end of the shoulder, and shorts cropped at the mid-thigh.

If Daichi was being frank, he was worried. He kept thinking about the conversation he had with Kiyoko a month ago.

“Are you sure this will work?” Daichi didn’t plan on Kiyoko taking it upon herself to get him alone with his shirt thief.

“Of course it will. She is undeniably the most helpful girl I know. She wouldn’t hesitate to take my spot.” Kiyoko kept sweeping the gym floor as Daichi paced back and forth in front of the entrance. The cold morning air slightly relaxed him.

“But won’t she get curious about Yachi not taking your place, I mean if you can’t go, it would make the most sense for Yachi to go instead?”

“I got it covered. Daichi, you got this. Just don’t overwhelm her. A fundraiser has the word ‘fun’ in it after all.”

“Who told you that one?” He knew full well that Tanaka had been saying lines like that all week.

“It doesn’t matter. Just, wait. You have a month to memorize any icebreakers that you want to use. She’s an easygoing person, just have a good time.” Kiyoko explained. She thought that Daichi was going to accidentally drive himself insane from all the thinking he was doing.

“So, what’s your favorite color?” Daichi offered as the pair started walking to the first event.

“Let me think.” She tapped her chin before raising her finger into the air to imitate a lightbulb moment. “Black. And you?”

“Oh, definitely black.” Daichi had asked for conversational advice from Suga, who said that Daichi should try and find a lot of common ground between the two.

“Really? That’s cool! We have the same favorite color.” She felt relieved that Daichi was trying to keep talking to her, even if it seemed choppy and somehow memorized.

“First event, three-legged race. We just have to stay in front of the track team. Got it?” Daichi picked up the rope from the equipment table.

“The track team? Aren’t they supposed to be fast? Because it’s, well, it’s the track team.” She pouted and wrung her fingers in nervous excitement.

“Sure they’re fast, but they probably aren’t as good at communication. We are.” Daichi explained while tying the rope onto his right leg and her left leg.

The pairs had begun lining up at the starting line. The red track looped around the soccer field, and they needed to run one lap. She thought back on all the times she made excuses in gym class to get out of running the mile. Maybe she should’ve done conditioning like Kiyoko suggested.

They won the three-legged race.

And they just kept winning things.

The egg toss, (Daichi named the egg, and she kept it in her bag for the entire festival.)

The paintball competition, (When they had won Daichi hugged her and lifted her up into the air. After realizing this, he turned red. But she took a paintball and broke it, painting her cheeks with two stripes of orange, then doing the same to Daichi.)

The speed eating, (As it turns out Daichi was allergic to the type of pancake flour used, but he still was able to beat out the wrestling team. She got to use an EpiPen for the first time on another person. It was a bad decision for him to eat the pancakes. “But hey! We still won”, Daichi had exclaimed.)

Throughout the day, Daichi found it easier to hold a conversation with her. And even though Kiyoko had warned her about his scary determination to win, she found it completely adorable. Especially when they won a game and Daichi let out a loud “Yes!” and pumped his fists.

At the end of the day, it was a victory for everyone involved.

The principal started a dramatic drumroll to announce the winner.

Daichi had reached out and gripped her hand tightly. The sounds of people hitting their hands make a rumbling drumroll blocking out any other noise.

“Are you nervous we won’t win?” She asked because that seemed to be the only reason why Daichi would be holding her hand. She could feel the calluses from receiving volleyballs against her hand. She tried her best to get her voice loud enough so that Daichi could hear her amongst the drumrolls.

“Nope. I know we’re going to win. I just wanted to hold your hand.” Daichi gave her a blinding smile. The kind that made the rain stop falling, the sun shine more brightly, and the kind to make her fall harder than before.

“Volleyball Club!”

The crowd burst into applause, and Daichi could see his team going crazy in the stands.

Nishinoya had started jumping up on Tanaka’s shoulders. Asahi was crying. Suga was doing an encouraging dance with Ennoshita and Yamaguchi. Even Tsukishima had an upturned smirk.

When the field was cleared out, they sat in the middle of the field basking in the sunset. Daichi had offered to walk her home earlier, but she had insisted on them watching the sunset.

The way the sun faded from view, painting the sky in streaks of reds, oranges, and yellows, then blending into purples and blues, was the way that Daichi felt. The colors mixed so perfectly and satisfyingly that he wanted to sit there forever with her next to him.

“Daichi.”

“Yeah?”

“I am aching.” She moved her arms like they were noddles, earning a low laugh in return.

“Me too.”

“Daichi. Do you think it was a bad decision that I ended up being at the sports festival with you and not Kiyoko?” She didn’t want to bring down the mood with her negativity, but she wanted to know the truth. If Kiyoko would’ve been a better partner than her. Even though the answer might hurt her, she wanted to know.

“I have made a lot of bad decisions today, but spending my time with you was not one of them,” Daichi confessed. And in one quick motion, he took hold of her hand once again. And he swore he wouldn’t ever let go.

[fionaswhvre]

I'm convinced that the 9-1-1 writers never intended to make Buck & Eddie a thing, but they changed their minds very soon.

They probably wrote Eddie Diaz to be this macho guy who was gonna end up dating Buck's sister but instead he turned out to be the gayest character who only had heart eyes for Buck.

In the first episode, Eddie was supposed to be a threat to Buck but instead of two guys fighting to be the Alpha™, their gym confrontation turned out more like "you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid." And with the whole "you can have my back any day", we had Ryan & Oliver making heart eyes at each other and giggling and twirling their hair while saying this.

The writers tried not making them gay by making them call each other "brother", but that happened only two times : 1) Eddie's "you're a badass under pressure, brother" in 2×01 & Buck's "You know it, brother" in 2×10. After that, we never hear them say brother again. Because even that word couldn't tone down their flirtiness with each other.

When Chris was first introduced, he had interactions with the whole firefam, especially with Bobby and Chimney, even more than Buck. But in s3, the writers gave them the tsunami arc, thus sealing their bond of being a family. Since then, we see Chris only interacting with Buck in the 118.

Also when Eddie was shot, he was dating Ana, but we didn't even get to see her reaction or how she is comforting his son. Even the conversation of "what would've happened to Chris if Eddie actually died" took place with Buck, not Ana, who Eddie was literally dating.

When Buck was hit by the lightning there was no reason for the scene where Eddie tells Chim that he'll take over pumping Buck's heart. It is just a one second scene and Buck's heart was gonna start either way since he wasn't gonna be killed off, but still they made Eddie make the switch so that he can be the one to pump his heart back to life.

Bathena, Madney, Henren & DavidMichael all have scenes where one's life is threatened and the other is concerned/breaking down (Athena getting beat up, Bobby caught in a fire, Maddie in a hostage situation, Karen's lab getting blown up & David stuck in a hospital during a fire).

Buck and Eddie never get these scenes with their love interests. They only get it with each other (The shooting, tsunami, Eddie getting stuck underground).

At this point, the writers aren't even being subtle. They constantly put them in romantic tropes and parallel them with other main ships.

Bonus: They gave us Tarlos where one guy is Latino & the other is the son of the captain.

[lolitaa-17]

Meaningless?

Toji x reader drabble angst lol.

"Well what are we?"

That question, how Toji hated it. He was never the type to do labels, ever since his ex wife had passed.

"How many times did I tell you to stop asking me that dumbass question y/n?"

He got up from the bed leaving you there alone.

"Well it would be nice to know? You act like you love-"

"Get out." He huffed while putting his clothes back on. He hated that too. He hated that word. Love. He felt as if he wasn't capable of loving ever since his ex wife had died.

You couldn't stop the tears from falling, it had been a very emotional week and this was definitely one way to end it.

"Well then stop fucking calling my phone!" You slapped his chest before walking out of his room.

You walked pass his son who was around 12, he definitely knew the troubled situation you had been put in with his dad.

"Y/n..." you stopped your tracks as you heard Megumi mutter your name. You wiped your tears quickly and put up a smile.

"Hmm?" you asked him keeping an eye out to see if his dad had been coming.

"I'm sorry, for my dad he's still-" He tries to apologize for his dad.

"You don't need to apologize for him, I still like you don't worry" you mess his hair up.

"What about my dad? Do you still love him? I don't want you to leave."

Oh how this had made the situation worse, you loved children. Seeing Megumi going through this at such a young age broke your heart even more.

"I don't know, but I really have to leave-"

"Please don't y/n, it gets lonely here." you could see the tears threatening to fall from the young boys eyes.

You kneeled down to his level and gave him a big hug while crying even harder. "I'm sorry." you whispered in his ear before getting back up to leave.

-

Toji pov

He noticed how your footsteps abruptly stopped, And how the front door hadn't open yet.

Megumi had probably stopped you. So he quietly walked out to see what you two had possibly been whispering about.

"What about my dad? Do you still love him? I don't want you to leave."

Those words ached his heart, but it hurt even more listening to your response.

"I don't know."

Seeing the moment you two had shared lit something up within Toji, he never was home. Always busy with work, but you were more than happy to watch Megumi whenever Toji asked. He didn't realize how much of an impact you were to Megumi.

Seeing the vacant look on his sons face once you walked out, it had changed something in Megumi. When he turned to look at his father. It was a cold expressionless look on his face.

No words were exchanged but he could tell that Megumi was the least of happy right now.

-

"Eat your food Megumi, how many days has it been since you've actually eaten." Toji placed the plate of food in front of his face.

"I don't need a Nanny. I'm old enough to watch myself after school you know that right." Megumi muttered while playing with his food.

"Well what's with the sudden switch up? When y/n-"

"Y/n wasn't a nanny." Megumi cut him off.

Toji furrowed his brows, this attitude that was suddenly being brought out of Megumi.

"She actually cared about me, about us." And with that Megumi got up and left the full plate and walked over to his room where he had always been locking himself up ever since you left.

-

Your pov

You cried, drank and slept late.

That was your schedule after work, everyday the same thing. Toji made you feel so loved, yet he claimed he doesn't feel anything towards you.

It was your final straw with him, you had blocked his number and all of his socials. Maybe it was childish, but he's made you feel like this one too many times.

-

Tojis pov

He hated to admit that he had to move on from his diseased wife, and making you feel that way because of his feeling wasn't right. He loved you. He would do anything. He just can't, it feels wrong to betray his ex wife.

But even Megumi, his own son. He was ready to move on. Megumi loves you just as much as Toji loves you.

*knock*

He enters his sons room. He heard the small sniffles coming from Megumi. It shattered Toji's heart. "What's wrong Megumi, talk to me please."

"Leave me alone." Megumi scoffed.

"Megumi just tell me please." Toji sighed sitting on Megumi's bed.

"She made me feel how Mama made me feel, and you just push her away when all she was doing was treating us like real family." Megumi kept his gaze away from Toji.

He clenched his jaw. Stopping himself from wanting to cry. All he could do is get up and leave Megumi's room into his own.

He dialed and dialed but straight to voicemail. He couldn't help but slam his phone against the floor leaving it shattered. The tears slowly start fall.

He took advantage, you would always tell him you were done with his bullshit but you never actually really wanted to leave him. Excpet this time, blocking him on everything you possibly had.

Toji wasn't one to give up though. He grabbed his car keys and made his way out the door.

-

Your pov

It was thunder storming. You had the windows open, the small yellow tinted lights on, and a big glass of wine in hand.

You knew this cycle of drinking had to stop soon, it wasn't healthy nor cheap. But it was a way to escape from that feeling that lingers onto you every time you leave Toji's house crying.

A loud knock echoed your apartment.

You open your door to see Toji soaked in water and gasping for air. His face was written in such a saddened look. You weren't really used to it.

"What are you doing here?" You slurred your words as you put the wine bottle down on a counter next to you.

"Are you drunk?" Toji asked.

"Toji...what are you doing here."

"You're coming with me." He grabbed your wrist.

"You are not taking me anywhere, because whatever was going on with us is over. So goodbye Toji."

"No it's not y/n...Because i fucking need you." Toji's voice cracked as his tears were threatening to fall again seeing the type of state he left you in.

"We need you, Megumi needs you more than anything."

"And I want you to stay there, with me and Megumi for the rest of our lives. Because I love you and I want you to be the one to care for us and love us."

"Toji I-"

"Fuck y/n...I'll even put a fucking ring onto your finger and marry you!" He cries out leaning in to embrace you.

-

"Y/n!" Megumi jumps onto you and his dad when he saw you in the room. It was the morning after Toji's confession. You went with him hoping things he said were actually meaningful.

"I missed you so much." he hugged you tightly.

"I missed you wayyy more." You laugh and hug him even tighter.

"Wait here!" Megumi ran out the room shutting the door leaving you and Toji alone again.

"I'm sorry...for everything I put you through." Toji hugged you tightly and kissed your head.

"I love you...fiance." He whispers the last part.

"I love you too." He kisses you more passionately and meaningfully than usual.

"Here is breakfast in bed!" Megumi brings in a big bowl of cereal and a cup of orange juice.

"Only for y/n though because you don't really deserve one yet dad." He places the bowl of cereal next to you and lays down Between you and Toji.

You laughed at his savage side comment, while Toji scoffed.

"I love you though, both of you." Megumi murmured.

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Twenty: Lady Alcina Dimitrescu + Mind Control/Body Modification

You really can't remember how you managed to get a tongue piercing. When it had happened? Where, or if the lady of the house knew about it.

It had been her daughters. Her beautifully crazy daughter had dragged you out and into the booming town of the village below the large ornate castle.

Bela, Cassandra, and Danelia all just wanted to let loose. The hot, sticky summer days gave ease to their entrapment during the freezing winter months.

They flittered and floated around the town. Bar hopping from one place to another as the day went on the looser we all got. Until we ended up at a tattoo parlor. The four of you had all gotten matching tattoos.

Little bugs that had wings to fly and a little sun to fly towards. How you managed to be the only one laying on your back. Tongue pressed between a pair of cold forceps. A quick sharp pain as the three watched you like hawks.

Just like that, you had a piece of shiny jewelry in your mouth. A ball on each side of your tongue that felt weird at first. They all cheered for you as the four of you walked out with a gleeful attitude.

You played with it in your mouth until you and the sisters arrived back at Castle Dimitrescu.

Days, weeks went by. You were really sure what your relationship with the lady of the house was. She liked you as a pet, but she yearned for you while you were gone. She saw how good you were with her naughty daughters. It was a sticky situation. Your tongue swelling went down, then it just became a part of your everyday life. The feeling of something pressed underneath your tongue, but also above it pressed into the roof of your mouth.

It wasn't until Dimitrescu had a written note sent to your bed chambers. Inside is her beautiful cursive writing, it said. "My dearest, I know that I've been ever so busy with things lately. I feel as if I haven't seen you in ages, so come to my chambers tonight. Kisses Y/n." Dimitrescu letter read.

Even just here words on the paper had your stomach twisting in knots of anticipation, and lust. Your relationship with the lady of the house wasn't conventional by any means. You had at one point been a simple maid, your job title had then been switched to a caregiver for the girls who were madly in love with someone new to play with.

From there things grew. You were once again switched from the girl's personal handmaiden to Lady Dimitrescu's personal handmaiden. Your relationship changed after that your heart burned with passion for her, and so did hers. Once again you were put into an odd place. Dimitrescu didn't want you to ever leave, but she didn't want to keep that title above your head.

You tie your robe around your waist and make your way toward her room. You barely have to knock on her bedroom door. A silky voice travels through the wooden door. "Come in." You push open the door. "Oh Bubba, you came," Alcina murmurs as she sits up on the bed.

A much larger robe wrapped around her. Her hair is out of its tight curls, and she looks warm as coaxes you over to her. "Of course, I came my lady." You said as you walked over to her.

She shook her head, "What have I said about that Bubba?" Alcina asks you. You still to this day had a hard time calling her by her name, Alcina wasn't what you had been taught to call her. My lady slipped out at least once or twice when it was the just two of you.

"I'm sorry my… Alcina." You whisper. Alcina grabs onto your cheeks, cold hands in contrast to your warm, and already blushing face. "Smile for me, Bubba." Alcina loves it whenever you smile. Wild light that explodes from your toothy grin, it goes straight through her and into her heart.

Your face breaks out into a glowing smile as you snuggle into her touch on your cheeks. Alcina just stares at you for what feels like ages. Aclina scans over your brightest features to the lines on your forehead and near your eyes. She drinks you in literally taking you in for everything you can give her from just a little ole' smile.

Then her eyes catch something. A glint, a metallic shine on some sort. Alcina doesn't think about it until the fire's light makes it shine even more. Her face contorts, and yours follows suit. "Y/n?"

Alcina never really says your name, but when she does it means she is serious. You echo her, 'Alcina?" You whisper back to her. "Open your mouth for me, Bubba." She demands of you. Her eyes go wide when you open your mouth and stick out your bedazzled tongue.

"What is this shining in your mouth?" Alcina doesn't sound mad, hell she doesn't even have an emotion on her face. You swallow as Alcina takes her cold hands off your face. "Well…" You start off. Alcina has yet to take her eyes off the rhinestone on your tongue. She watches it move as you tell her the story of the girls wanting tattoos, and how they had bet you to get a tongue piercing.

"You aren't mad are you?" You ask Alcina. Her yellow eyes flash quickly with hurt, and then she's back consoling you. "My sweetness I'd never be mad at you for something like this." Alcina reaches over her thumb grazing over your bottom lip.

You two stay like that for a few moments, before Alcina says what she's been thinking since she caught the glimmer. You see the smirk on her face, and then her words hit your ears. "You know Y/n I've always wondered what it would feel like me on." Your face goes hot with a blush.

Thinking up all the scenarios that Alcina could be talking about. "Do you wanna…" You can't get the words out. "Do I wanna what sweetness?" Alcina is ever so a minx. "I… you…" You bit your bottom lip searching for the words. "I wanna…" You don't even finish your thouhgt before your delved in. Crashing into Alcina lips.

The kiss is searing, in a hot sort of knee buckling way. Alcina wraps here long fingers around the back of your neck, and when you lick her lips for entrance into her mouth she moans. It only pushes you further. Hands burhsing up agasint soft robe fabric. "Take this off me please." Alcina begs you. You never seen, or heard Alcina so desperate for touch.

You follow her request. Stripping her of the robe, throwing it off into the room. She stands there so tall, and so bare. Her skin lights up with goosebumps as you trail your fingers up and down her curves. She moans at your light touches. "Don't tease." Alcina warns. "I'm sorry… I just like touching you is all." You murmurs as you leave a litter of kisses on your way up and down her body.

That's before Alcina picks you up and shifts the both of you towards the soft surface of the bed. She lays you ontop of her. Your own robe gives way, showing off the shorts and tank top you wear to bed.

Kissing up and down Alcina jaw and neck. She hard grips harder when you suck a little bruise on her skin where the shoulder, and neck met. You follow down her collar bone down between the valley of her breasts. Her hands shifts landing in your hair. You suck yet another bruise between her breasts. And when you look up to fancy your work. Alcina is already on the verge of bursting with lust.

You get back to work. Licking up her kiss, kissing the little but best spots for her. Everytime you lick Alcina skin she whines, and moans. "Oh fuck Y/n, you dont… oh hell you don't know" She can't get her words out.

It's not until you shimmy yourself between her large thighs, and are face to face with her dripping cunt. You take a quickl glance up at her. She yellow eyes are blown out with lust, her cheeks are red with a thick layer of blush.

"Don't make me…" You don't let alcina finish when you lick a sticky strip from her leaking hole to her clit leaving it kiss when you come up. Your hands come spreading her apart. Dripping further down onto the fresh linens. You blow cold air onto her cunt. She shivers and moans at the action.

You can't hold back anymore. You care not for rhe breathe you need as you stuff your face into her wet, dripping cunt. Everythng just feels right, and damn the encoramanet that you hear from above you have you wishing you could get some sort of relief out of it as well.

You licks around her swollen clit, and a harh hand come to tug at your hard pulling you. Using you for Alcina own plesure. You are no longer fucking her with your mouth. Rather she's fucking you with her cunt. When you do manage to slip a set of fingers into her cunt she's tight as always. Sucking you in as your pull out and push them right back in. "Oh sweet fuck!" Alcina moans out, her head is thrown back and her eyes are shut tightly as your lick her clit the rinestone tongue peicing hitting it just right.

Two fingers itching just the right spot to make Alcina vision go white with passion. Her cunt squeezes your finger tight as she moans out loudly and cums all over your face. Your face is drenched, down to your tank top.

When you come up from between Alicna thighs she's worn out unable to lift her head and take a look at you. "Alcina, did I make you squirt?" You aks your voice husky and deep. she graons and shake her head a little.

You shift moving up to lay next to the worn out lady of the house. It's silent for only a moments time. "You must know my dear that I haven't felt that good in such a long time." Alcina says as she looks over at you. She looks so content, calm for the first time in a long time. "Thank you my sweetness." Alcina murmurs. "Of course." You get up grabbing your robe, and wiping down your face before getting a wet cloth and cleaning up between Alcina thighs.

when you go to leave her chambers, a small tired voice calls you back. "Stay with me?" Alcina asks you don't dare ignore, or deny her.

Completed on: 08/01/23

Posted on: 10/20/23

Kinktober 23- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays

Resident Evil Master List // House Dimitrescu Master List // Kinktober '23

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

You can call me, Sir.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific chapter warnings : Failed CPS case, implied abuse with belt, clothes shopping (I tried my best to be as body neutral as possible), sugar daddy Arron, sales lady is rude towards reader, Things are getting spicy, first rules, use of pet names, reader is described as having hair long enough to sweep over one shoulder, trying on clothes, Let me know if I need to add anything!

A/N: The amount of love that has been shown for this story so far has absolutely filled my heart! I’m sorry this chapter took a minute to come out, I got married last week sooooo 😍 that slowed the process down a little. Haha 💜

*~*~*~*~*~*

9 years ago

The worst part was the way her nose stung, like a million tiny needles stabbing her all at once. But she had to breath through it, because only selfish, weak, incompetent people cried. So she forced her thoughts solely on the older woman who sat across from her, her grey hair loose around her shoulders, and the bright pink blazer she wore with matching skirt. ‘I think name is Deloris?’

Not what you would have thought when you heard the term ‘CPS worker’. She smiles at the young teen as if she was Y/n’s best friend and there isn’t a care in the world as her fountain pen taps against her yellow notepad. “You’re mother must have been a lovely woman.”

A muscle in Y/n’s jaw twitches, but she manages to return Deloris’ smile briefly. “She was.”

“So is that really the reason you have been skipping school?” Her green eyes were full of mock sympathy, and Y/n can only assume how many of these ‘troubled teen cases’ she has had to work.

“Yes ma’am.” It was the 8th anniversary of Y/n’s mother’s death. Today. She can hear her father in the other room, moving about the kitchen, pretending to not be listening through the thin walls. Y/n squeezes the pillow in her lap tighter to her churning stomach, already anticipating how the rest of the night will go.

“I’m sorry, dear. I know losing a loved one can be hard, but that doesn’t mean we can go about making things hard for the ones we still have.” Deloris tilts her head, her lips in a slightly pout as she regards Y/n, who only bites her cheek to keep quiet. She drops her chin to her chest, fanning shame with a small nod, placating the woman. “Good. I’m going to go talk with your father now, I hope you understand the severity of the situation you’ve almost caused. I expect to hear you are in school tomorrow.”

Deloris doesn’t take long in the kitchen with Y/n’s father, her pitchy laughter grating on Y/n’s ears. Her father escorts the worker to the door, his hair is combed, beard neat and he’s dressed still in his work clothes. A fitted grey collard shirt and jeans. His usual Forman outfit. At one point in Y/n’s life she can remember thinking her dad had been very handsome, but that had all been before the drinking.

“Have a good evening Miss. Deloris.” Her fathers southern accent is always laid on heavy whenever he is trying to impress someone, or to get his way. And for most of his life it worked well. Y/n wonders sometimes if that is how he had charmed her mother.

As the pine door shut, Y/n closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath before the storm. When she opens her eyes again, she’s staring at the brown tweed couch across from her, out of the corner of her eye she can see her father’s still form in the archway of the living room.

The sound of leather hissing through his denim belt loops makes her stomach drop, her breath quicken in her already tight chest. “Gone an got me in trouble huh?” He folds the worn leather over in his hands, snapping it together watching as she jumps in her seat. Her gaze remains focused on the spot Miss. Deloris had occupied, the old springs and cushioning holding her shape. “You ain’t learned trouble girl.”

Present Day

It’s almost unbearable how cold it is outside, the dark clouds over head threatened to snow on the busy sidewalk as you shove your hands as far into your jacket as they will go. Aaron is pressed against your side, his arm wrapped around your back, directing you through the crowd and to the front of a large store.

Chic’s End

Your nose scrunches slightly at the different mannequins in the brightly lit windows who’s clothing is on the higher end of fashion. Pieces you’d never find in your own wardrobe. Aaron guides you towards the door but you stop abruptly shaking your head. “Hotch, aren’t there places a little less… fancy?” Your tone gives away your discomfort as you scan the nearly empty store.

Aaron sighs, stepping around you so he can look you in the eye. “Rule number one: call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us, Hotch is too formal. Now I’m sure there are, but you deserve to be a little spoiled…” He pauses, his phone vibrating in his pocket making him frown. “Now go inside, let me check this and I’ll be right in.” As he fishes for his phone he pulls open the door for you, letting you walk in with a small head rush.

‘Our first rule?’

You take the moment you have some to look around the store front, a few customers are mingling about the rows of clothing, associates putting away inventory or helping their guests. A brunette is standing at the register, her hair sprayed and pinned into a tight bun atop her head. She glances at you, her nose turned up at your simple outfit, without a word of welcome she goes back to her work.

The door is opening a moment later, a small bell going off as Aaron steps in, the icy breeze trying to follow. “Sorry, David was checking in.” His voice reaches the woman at the counter, grabbing her attention. She watches as he shrugs out of his winter jacket, her gaze fixing on the flash of jewelry on his wrist with a smile.

“Is he okay?” You ask, handing Aaron your own jacket as he hangs them on a coatrack.

“Oh yes, he’s-.”

“Good afternoon, is there anything I can help you with?” You turn, the same woman from before now standing in front of you. She’s wearing a form fitting black dress, the apparent dress code for the establishment, a silver name tag pinned to her collar reading ‘Denise.’ Gone is her dismissive attitudes from before, her blue eyes staring intently at Aaron with a sly smile.

You feel something in your chest squirm, making you take a step in front of Aaron as you pull your best smile into place. “Oh thank you, but we are just-.”

A warm hands is suddenly on your shoulder, pulling you into Aaron’s side. “We’re looking for some work attire; blouses, pants, skirts and such. Along with more casual wear.” He squeezes your shoulder as you slide him a disgruntled look.

Denise regards you with a tight lipped smile, nodding her head slightly. “Of course. Right this way.” She turns on her heel, an extra sway in her her step that makes you roll your eyes as you pull out of Aaron’s grip following her. He follows behind a few paces, regarding you with masked amusement.

She takes you to the back of the store, pointing out the sections of racks you’ll need and where on the walls you can find work appropriate pants and skirts. Denise turns to Aaron once again, stepping to close for comfort as she stares openly at his suit. “You know, we have the latest in Brioni’s suit jackets that I think would complement you rather well, Mr…” She brushes her hand against his arm and your eyes widen.

“No thank you. I’ll let you know if we need any further assistance.” Aaron comes to stand beside you, his expression hard to read as he places a hand on your lower back. Denise’s eyes narrow slightly, her smile faltering before she pulls her emotions back.

“Please do.” She saunters of, throwing one last look over her shoulder.

You laugh unbelievably, “Jesus… she was a bit forward.” You turn toward the rack beside you, picking up the first shirt your eyes land on. It’s a simple white blouse with navy blue pinstripes, the neckline is a little low for your taste but otherwise it’s very pretty. You pick up the tag and instantly drop it, your mouth falling open.

“What?” Aaron asks, sliding the clothes along the pole, looking through the selection.

“This! These clothes are way to over priced.” You turn the tag towards him, and he squints at the small numbers. ‘75.56’. He frowns slightly and you think he’s about to agree with you, call this whole ridiculous thing off until he shrugs.

“That’s not so bad.” He grins at the incredulous look you level him, showing perfect teeth. “Darling you’ll come to realize the value that comes with certain things. Soon enough you’ll see the value in yourself as well.” He chucks you under the chin softly and you think that’s it.

You’re going to explode.

Everything it too much.

“Hotch, I can’t just let you waste that kind of money on me. You don’t know what you will need it for later, bills, or -.”

Aaron steps into your space again, bending down until he’s eye level with you and you clam up. His eyes are dark, burning with an intensity that has your shoulders slumping slightly. When he speaks his voice is quiet but direct, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “What did I say our first rule was?”

You stammer, your grip tightening on the fabric still in your hands. “You said… to call you Aaron.”

“Correct. So that’s one. Now, when I say I am doing something for you, buying you something, getting you something; do not doubt me. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. Do I make myself clear?”

All you can do is nod, your throat dry and tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. “Good girl. Now if you really find calling me Aaron to difficult, you can always call me sir.” You suddenly look like a fire had been lit underneath you, your face flushing a new shade of red he’d yet to see before. You turn away from him, trying to hide your emotions and aggressively shuffle through the clothes before you.

Aaron straightens with a satisfied smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour in and there is a mount pile of clothing in the cart in front of you. Everything you’ve selected draped over one side and everything Aaron selected on the other. You had found a discount rack, the red tags a twisted mess by now, but the 15% off sign did little to quell the guilt eating you.

“Okay… this is more clothes than I think Garcia even owns. I think we should-.” You’re talking absently, glancing up only to find Aaron is walking in the opposite direction of the checkout. “Oh for the love of all things holy.” You quickly follow, pulling the cart behind you as the hangers rattle together. He stops in front of a display of eloquent evening gowns and you follow his stare to the forefront of the display. A deep emerald green satin dress takes your breath away, with a sweetheart neckline and a slit that goes half way up the mannequins thigh. You peak around the back in awe, it plunges well down to the lower back, a sheer material with beautiful rhinestones occupying the negative space.

Aaron watches as you pick up the bottom of the dress, rubbing the buttery material between your fingers. “I would love to see you in it.”

You shake your head, though your focus remains on the dress. “There’s no reason to, when would I ever wear this? Besides we’ve been here for nearly an hour, if we don’t leave soon I’m sure Denise is going to jump your bones.”

Aaron chuckles at that with a shrug. “You might not be wrong, she’s been lurking around the corner ever since I took my jacket off and she caught sight of my watch.” You glance down at his wrist as he shows you a golden Rolex. You hum in understanding, putting the two together. A handsome, stylish man, with a nice suit and a watch that coasts a couple of grand. She sees dollar signs. “Go ask her for a fitting room.”

Glancing around you notice she’s no more than ten feet away, pretending to be busy with an already neatly arranged display of sweaters. You walk over, hands clasped behind your back. “Excuse me?”

She doesn’t bother to look up, her head tilted as if in contemplation as she stares at the stack in front of her. “Yes?”

Your jaw clenches slightly, but you smile regardless. “I’d like to try that green dress on, where are your dressing rooms?” That finally catches her attention, she looks around you to the dress your talking about and then to the cart beside Aaron, the red tags turned her way. With a bemused smile she finally looks you in the eye.

“Sorry, that dress isn’t on sale, dear. Maybe come back some other time.” Her high voice carries farther than she thinks, reaching Aaron who’s eyebrows raised in surprise before furrowing as anger bubbles in his chest.

Before you can say anything he is by your side, startling you both. “She didn’t ask you if it was on sale. She asked if you had a fitting room.” Denise pales, his voice is harsh and edged making her shift on her feet as she begins to stammer

“Well I… it was just-.”

“Just what? It’s a simple question, this is a clothing store so you must have fitting rooms. She would like one opened.” Denise can no longer keep eye contact, her gaze flickering from his face and away again. “Now.” The command in his voice makes her move, her mouth agape and she’s pointing indirectly over her shoulder. She turns, quickly walking away and you’re left to stunned to react. Aaron’s hand finds your back again, pushing you forward, his other hand on the end of the cart.

The dressing area is three beiges booths with deep red curtains for doors. A large mirror takes up one wall that is lit up like Time Square during Christmas, and there are mirrors in the booths as well. “You said the green dress?” You nod, giving her your size and she’s running off again, her head down and face red. Aaron takes a seat in one of the mahogany chairs, folding his arms across his chest. He’s watching Denise leave with that same look he gives every unsub as they are being hauled off to their final destination.

“Um… thank you, for… for that.” You speak up, breaking the silence waiting on Denise to return.

He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his black shoe tapping the polished floor. “You don’t typically show when you’re upset or irritated, I had to step in. I also couldn’t stand by and let you be berated like that.”

This time it’s you who crosses their arms, glowering at him. “I wasn’t showing I was upset, so what she was being rude? It didn’t affect me.”

His lips pull into a sarcastic smile, head shaking. “Sweetheart, I’ve been working with you for three years, nearly four. When you get upset over something, even if it is trivial, you dig your nails into your palms. Most likely because you would rather focus on that then what’s stewing in your mind and your chest.” You blink at him, awareness washing over you as you shake out your hands, crescent indents marking your flesh.

Before you can snip at him Denise is back, placing the dress in one of the rooms and leaving without a word. Aaron raises an eyebrow and you huff, turning and walking into the booth before snatching the curtain closed. You take a moment to breath, your annoyance merging on anger as you begin to undress.

You have to force yourself to remember this is all apart of the contract, this is all small steps to whatever greater end goal he has. You can’t fully trust he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart, no one is like that. Working a career where you catch murderers and kidnappers and rapists has shown you such. The thought lingers at the back of your mind that maybe he’s pushing you to break and go to therapy where they will force your leave. It wouldn’t happen, you’ve come to far to let anyone treat you that way.

You step out of your pants, bending down to pick them up when you notice movement in the mirror. You look up, making eye contact with Aaron from where he sits and you go still. The only thing that moves is your heart as it suddenly jumps into double time.

Aaron’s eyes slowly rake over your body, the hunger in his eyes evident even from where you stand and you can feel your body respond. Heat rushes through your veins, leaving you lightheaded. He shifts in his seat, your eyes dropping to where he tugs at his pants legs, a noticeable bulge in his lap that makes your guts clench. From anxiety? Want? Curiosity? You aren’t sure. You quickly look away, his smile turning wolfish as you straighten and spin around, giving him a full peak at the matching black bra and panties your wearing before yanking the curtain fully closed.

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, your fingers suddenly tingling and your lungs working for air. Shakily, checking the curtain again and again you strip out of your bra, and pull the dress over your head. The satin is soft and cool, the green leaving your skin glowing in the light. It hugs your body in ways you wouldn’t of imagined and you… like it. It screams seduction, fun, and someone you’re not but someone you once might have wanted to be…

The only issue is you can’t zip it yourself. You struggle for a few minutes, contouring your body this way or that, but you can’t get the zipper more than half way up your back.

Reluctantly you pull the curtain aside just enough to peak your head out, your eyes instantly finding Aaron’s. He raises an eyebrow, his hands clasped together in his lap and you are more than aware of why. “I need her help.” Your voice is floaty and you clear your throat. “I can’t zip it up.”

“I’ll help you.” He stands, crossing the small distance in three long strides, quicker than you can reject his help.

“Wait- no, I’m-.” But he is pulling the curtain away from the other side and you curse the interior designer with a flourish of silent profanities. In the small space he seems larger than life, all broad chest and long limbs. He steps closer and you back up, an all to familiar dance you two have rehearsed before.

He holds his hand out, a gesture of reassurance but he is still looking at you like a starved man. “Spin around, pretty girl.” Your legs feel suddenly numb, like you’d never used them before in your life as you continue to stare. “It’s okay.” He whispers, taking another half step forward.

“It’s fine, it fits well enough without it zipped I’m sure it’ll fit great when it is.” You fight to keep your body lose and face expressionless, trying to mask the feelings bubbling in your guts. Aaron doesn’t say anything, only continues to stare you down, gaze never wavering. “Really.”

“Turn around.” You don’t want to listen, but the timber of his voice makes your body ache in a way that catches you more by surprise than anything else has these past 24 hours. Cautiously you lay your hand in his, letting his pull you in before spinning you around so you’re facing the mirror. He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, his fingers grazing across the naked skin pulling gooseflesh to the surface.

You stand as still as possible, hardly breathing as he gently slides the zipper up. His palms spread across your ribs, warm through the thin fabric. “What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful dress.” You whisper quietly, trying not to back down from his stare.

“You make it beautiful.”

“You’re only saying that.” He pulls you closer, your back hitting his chest, your body molding to his. A gasp disappears on your lips, his hips pressing into you lower back his erection prominent making you shiver.

“I can promise you I’m not.” His hand slips to your stomach, splaying across your abdomen, and a small noise hitches in your throat. He tilts his head down, pressing a tinder kiss to the crown of your head and all you can focus on is where he’s touching you and where he isn’t, but where you want him to. Your panties are suddenly slick feeling as you shift against him, his erection digging further into your ass.

“Aaron…” You try to warn, and he watches the way your eyes flutter, the shields you’ve so desperately and carefully constructed cracking under the weight of his stare. Some logical part of your brain, buried beneath the mush of your thoughts, is screaming and begging to run away. But how long had it been since you’d felt that fire in the pit of your stomach, curling your toes and making your thighs pinch together?

You’re about to open your mouth, say something, anything at all, when he is suddenly pulling away. “Come out here so I can get a better look at you.” Aaron steps behind the curtain leaving you to your spiraling thoughts and an ache you’d never imagine. Your face is flushed, eyes wide and pupils blown out over the color of your irises. It’s hard to keep the air in your lungs from rushing out in soft pants.

All you can think is that if this is how you react to a few simple words and actions, you’re screwed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The next half hour is spent paying for your clothing, a bill Aaron wouldn’t allow you to see, then moving the bags from the car to your hotel room. You stare at them now, laid out on your bed with furrowed eyebrows and your thumbnail caught between your teeth. How would you get these in your bag and on the plane with as little notice as possible?

“Maybe we can go get you another duffle bag tomorrow.” Aaron answers as if he could read your thoughts, and if you didn’t know better you would say he did.

“It’s okay.. Thank you for the clothing.” You manage, giving him a tight smile as you glance to where he is standing at the foot of the bed.

The entire car ride was filled with tension, his presence alone setting you on edge, all while he remained calm driving down the busy streets and helping you to your room.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He smiles at you, possibly more so from your compliance, his eyes like coffee. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

You bite your nail harder, looking back to the bags. “I’d like to just order my food to my room, I need to get this organized and finish my reports.” You expect him to argue but he only nods, coming around the bed and kissing the top of your head before he walks towards the door.

“I’ll check on you in a little while.” With that he leaves, and as the automatic lock slides into place you crumple. You sit heavily on the bed, running a hand through your hair like it might comb your thoughts back into place.

What are you doing?

What is he doing?

You groan in frustration, the feeling of not having control over what happens next beating on your bones and muscles. You haven’t relaxed since this began and you have a feeling you won’t for a long time to come.

*~*~*~*~*~*

If you would like to be tagged in the next parts please comment below and I will gladly add you! Thank you all for your support!

@kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs

[slitheringghost]

Voldemort Fic Recs, Part 2

Part 1 is here. Part 3 is here.

colours by @allthepeculiarthings (900 words, T)

Rec: A beautiful Tom character study, and I love the detail of Merope's green shawl.

It was Mrs Cole, herself only a young girl at the time, who had thought to take his mother’s shawl from around her shoulders, and bundle him in it instead. His mother, after all, would have had no use for it, resting under a few feet of soft earth. It was a frayed and ragged thing, and the green dye of the crocheted wool faded further and further into the dangerous territory of grey each year, but Tom clung to it nevertheless. His shawl, his name, and his life – he clung onto all he had inherited from his mother like a starved dog guarding its last meal.

time turns and tells them by @slashmarks (Tom & Abraxas, 1.4k, T)

Rec: The most fascinating version of how the Death Eater cult started - from a Tom that never really planned on it or on becoming Voldemort.

Hogwarts uniforms were a great class leveler as long as you were a student. Afterward, of course, the Wizarding World sorted most of the upstarts straight back out. Tom hadn’t needed to be sorted, being the best and brightest, except that he would have gone out buggering a lethifold before he resigned himself to pushing papers at a Ministry desk to buy first generation class privilege without even the paltry efficiency of doing it with a fountain pen instead of a quill. Magic in Britain, he had long ago concluded, was wasted on the magical. They had no imaginations at all. - Abraxas was the only one of his friends he’d let keep calling him Tom at school, less as a sign of intimacy and more because ‘Voldemort’ was terminally wasted on him. Abraxas’s great gift for amoral calculation was marred only by a dire lack of romance in his soul. But he was also the only friend Tom still saw regularly, have retired the Voldemort character when he no longer needed to keep a dorm full of pureblood morons in line.

a learning experience by @laeveteinn (Tom/Hepzibah, 9k, T)

Rec: I love Tom's voice and characterization in this, with an unexpected twist on Hepzibah Smith.

“Tom, my boy,” Slughorn exclaims, all well-meaning, smothering concern, “you can’t work at Borgin and Burkes!” This, naturally, is the moment Tom decides he will.  (He learns that his disdain for boundaries extends far past the realm of magic.)

the tiger’s lady by slashmarks (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 4.8k, T)

Rec: A Voldemort tells Bellatrix about Merope fic. The portrayal of cyclical violence will make you ache, with Bellamort playing out Merope's past. I requested this; you can request fic from slashmarks in return for a pro-choice donation here.

“My Bella," he said, softly and directly into the back of her neck. She had missed this, or else it had come suddenly, this switch into the most dangerous of his moods. "You lie very well and very often, do you not?" She didn't know what to say, but the words came out on their own, responding to a lifetime of instincts built for just this sort of situation – when saying the wrong thing was better than saying nothing at all. "My lord knows I am a Black... And generally appreciates it." She felt him tense behind her, and for a moment she expected him to fling her into the hot stove, but instead he moved back, and he was laughing – a real, sincere laugh, a sign of genuine relaxation, and her shoulders also relaxed

The Pleiades by @saintsenara (Bellatrix/Voldemort, 2.8k, T)

Rec: Beautifully written, another version of Bellatrix and her finding strength in Merope that makes me ache.

But she could still see, as she hugged herself for warmth, the seven sisters engaged in their celestial Quidditch match. She muttered their names each night like a prayer. Alcyone Maia Sterope Taygeta Celaeno Electra Merope - ‘Do you like Quidditch?’ she asked the Dark Lord, as she levitated a coffee tray into the study. He didn’t look up from the wanted posters of himself he was inspecting at Mr Lestrange’s desk. ‘No.’ This didn’t surprise her. For all his magic, so strong that it seemed to roll off him like the waves which could be heard from the open window, there was a brittleness about the Dark Lord which made it unlikely that anyone would describe him as sporty. A healthy whack from a bludger would probably snap him clean in two.

Still Water by deslea (Bellatrix/Voldemort, Bellatrix/Rodolphus, 2.2k, M)

Rec: A post-Azkaban Bellatrix fic with an equally heartwarming Belladolphus and Bellamort.

"Show me," she said. Just that. He frowned for a moment, but then, he nodded, and then images and impressions exploded in her mind. His near-annihilation, and the struggle that followed. His boundless, relentless will to live, to find a way. To find a way back. Years alone with his own mind, with no other input to sustain him. He'd reflected and re-reflected on himself, his life, his nature, until it was like eating himself alive. And then, finally, rebuilding himself, cell upon cell, bone upon bone, skin upon muscle. To her, his body before her seemed like a work of art, the work of a great creator. That he was still himself seemed a miracle.

stray shard of soul by Laeveteinn (Tom & Delphini, 100 words, T)

Rec: An excellent Dadmort mini fic.

He hates this child’s screaming. It jangles long-numb nerves, and he considers igniting her crib. (Old habit.) But when he considers another harming her, some faceless enemy, he burns. He’d incinerate them. Next, the world.

[blacclotusss]

Don't Be Afraid, Just Start the Tape

Starting off strong, I want to discuss the argument between Louis and Armand. This, in my opinion, is where everything fell apart. It's just them going back and forth hitting each other in the jugular and it made me want to rip my hair out just hearing it. I, personally, have always hated when things like that get thrown up in arguments so that's my own personal bias. Just hearing Louis throw back the CSA in Armand's face and Armand throwing Paul's suicide, Grace leaving him, and his history with Lestat back up brought me to tears almost. It really sucks that these two felt that they had to resort to these things, but that's the tragedy of it all.

But, for some reason, I think Armand was more hurt that Louis called him dull and boring. My belief is that it hit harder because being boring and dull to Louis means he goes out to look for more exciting things and people, leaving Armand home all night. He doesn't want to lose Louis and the first ounce of real love that he's experienced, so he was taken aback by that. Louis walking out into the sun wasn't much of a surprise to me, but I think him doing it at that moment was. I would have expected a suicide attempt back in Paris, or even in Dubai, but not in San Francisco. I do understand now that the story has unfolded. 

I think Louis has just had enough of it all, talking about it with Daniel who kind of brushed it off in his intoxicated state and his argument with Armand only fuels that. He wants to be with Claudia, she's the one that he says is calling him, and if dying is how he's going to get to meet her again, then so be it. Now, the whole situation with Armand leaving Louis on that bed to suffer while he begs for relief definitely rubbed me the wrong way. Louis no longer has Claudia to nurse him back to health, as she did when he was dropped, so he has no choice but to rely on Armand and that sucks. Armand is in here torturing Daniel while he leaves Louis to holler and yell for him, that's so messed up. Even going as far as to contact Lestat and relay messages from him to Louis, and omitting some things. The psychological abuse at play here is crazy to think about.

I also want to talk about the power balance that has been discussed as well. Yes, Louis is able to express himself a bit more and in a different way in his relationship with Armand. They have an understanding of each other and what the other needs and their roles and positions switch based on what one needs at that moment. The whole Arun/Maitre thing is really working in Armand's favor more, in my personal opinion. He knows just how to push enough to get Louis to fall in line with that. You can see that towards the end when Armand calls Louis maitre after all he said. He's all of a sudden asking Louis to lead after everything that has happened, after Louis had to beg, and Louis will happily oblige in order to keep the peace between them. I wonder in what other instances has this happened before. We see Louis trying to keep Armand from falling off of the deep end while he, himself, is the one sitting in the coffin burned and charred begging for blood. So curious as to how this will all unfold in the coming episodes, I know Dubai will be a madhouse just as much as Paris. 

Aside from the analysis of relationships and arguments, this episode was amazing. The styling choices in both the filming and wardrobe were superb. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this was Jacob and Assad's first episode they shot. It had to be funny to go from this to all the sweet lovey dovey stuff in the earlier episodes. I want to hear them talk about this more. Also, the SFX makeup was amazing! Much love to everyone involved with that! And it was nice to finally see Luke! He played that part so well. This and episode two are my absolute favorites so far. I wonder what's to come next in Dubai... 

[smooth-perceval]

Always wanting more.

Lando Norris x Leclerc!Reader

PART ONE

Summary: Charles sister was strictly off limits- Lando and reader find themselves in a tricky situation when lusting turns to loving.

Warnings: 18+ no smut but I will consider smutty scenes. Swearing, angst, angry Charles, switched POVS, flirting. NO PROOF READ! Google translate- Eerrrr I think that’s all! 👀

Key: Y/N (Your Name) Y/E/C (Your eye colour)

Word count: 4791

A/N: I gotta thing for Lando at the moment- alsoooo I have been on holiday so I haven’t wrote a single thing, enjoy this though! There is a tag list!!

Lando’s POV

Y/N Leclerc… where do I begin?

We were introduced to each other I’d say 2 years ago… and truthfully I’m obsessed with her. I know when she walks into a room, I know when she is nervous, when she is happy, even sad. I know her.

And I want her.

Day in, day out.

Meeting her is when I finally understood addiction, she was my drug. My pill to keep me sane- I was well and truly addicted to her.

Unfortunately I can’t have her, Leclerc’s rules… I hate Leclerc.

The rule when we met was specifically look but never touch, well really it was-

—

“Norris, eyes off my fucking sister.” Charles shoved my shoulder, glaring at me. In my head I had thoughts of doing so, just not with my eyes.

Gulping my brows knitted together, and I was frantically shaking my head. “I wasn’t looking at her.”

“Really? Cause the drool on your chin says otherwise.” Folding his arms across his chest, he moved to stand in-front of me.

“Listen, and listen good. Stay away from my sister, she doesn’t need another driver in her life- believe me. And even so I definitely wouldn’t want her with anyone here. Got it?” Raising his eyebrows at me, I nodded my head slightly.

“So keep your wandering eyes to yourself.”

“Charlieee!” And as if on cue she skipped over happily… her Y/E/C eyes landing straight on me, and maybe it was in my mind but her smile widened.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, I’m so happy to finally meet you!” Aside from the obvious she was completely different from her brothers, she was more warm and welcoming- I froze when she moved in to hug me. Conflicted on whether or not to accept the hug and potentially be killed by her brother, or reject the hug and be killed by the look on her face after the rejection.

“Nice to meet you too I’m Lando.” Staring into Charles soul, I reciprocated the hug keeping my hands hoovering over her waist barely touching her. If I didn’t have my eyes so wide they would’ve rolled back into my head-

Her touch set me alight, her smell was sweet like candy floss at a funfair, she was squeezing herself against me- by god she felt perfect against me.

“Ahem.” Clearing his throat he raised his eyebrows at me once again, waking me from my trance that I call his sister.

“I better go- I got quali…” pulling away from her quickly, she stumbled back. “Oh right- I’ll let you both go.” Turning she smiled at Charles touching his arm like a motherly instinct. “Good luck Char” followed by two cheek kisses- she then turned back to me, her cheeks blushed red. “Good luck Lando.” Followed by a little wave she practically ran away, looking over her shoulder at me every so often that smile never faltering, them cheeks still shining red.

“Lando.” Shoving my shoulder again- my attention falling onto Charles who was shaking his head. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry-”

I really wasn’t.

—

I knew she had arrived on Charles boat, something about her aura caused the atmosphere to change, and I soon found myself trying to seek her out in the crowd full of people. Just a glimpse of her and I’d say it was a good party.

“Lando!” My heart pounded in my chest, her arms were thrown over my shoulders and tightly secured around my neck. God she smelt wonderful- why does she always smell so good?

Returning the hug keeping it short for any prying eyes she stood infront of me, shame on me for allowing my eyes to wander. She had on a beach cover up underneath was a bright orange bikini… McLaren orange-

What is she doing to me…

“I- er” pointing at just her in general trying to muster the courage to compliment her and not sound like an absolute weirdo.

“I like you- your bikini- your whole outfit! You-” I fucked it. Shaking my head I took a moments breath. “You look lovely.”

A shy grin plastered onto her face as she looked down at her outfit. “You think?” Her hands picked at her sleeve, subconsciously stepping closer to me.

“You always look lovely.” Now I’ve complimented her- I couldn’t stop I wanted to tell her every minute of every hour of every day for the rest of my life.

“Can we talk? Away from everyone here?”

Y/N POV

I’ve always liked Lando- before I even met him, sure I’d watch the race for my brothers but secretly when Lando’s face showed up on screen I felt giddy.

Maybe it was his sarcasm, or just the silly English boy in general- but I felt drawn to him.

When Charles finally introduced us, I felt like my life was complete, this boy knew I existed. For me that was more than enough.

But like most, absence makes the heart grow fonder- seeing him once I needed him again. We always want more. And I wanted him, I just couldn’t have him- he kept himself reserved and off limits.

It was only when I asked Charles why Lando always keeps me at arms length he finally told me about the little “threat” he gave to each driver. Seriously- the threat he gave wouldn’t even scare a fly.

Well long story short we got into a huge screaming match, and it ended with a simple.

“Keep away from them drivers Y/N- otherwise don’t speak to me ever again.”

And this time he meant it, unfortunately for him- I wasn’t running from Lando, I found myself always running at him. And I was going to get what I want…

—

Lando seemed nervous when we moved away from the crowds, indoors away from cameras, people- the world.

I took a seat watching him, he was on edge, before sitting down next to me. As always keeping distance. That annoyed me, and I found myself biting the bullet.

“Do you not like me?” Confusion was written on his face. “What?”

“I said do you not like me.” Shaking his head he shuffled the smallest bit closer. “Of course I like you! What made you think I didn’t?”

“Whenever I’m around you keep me 3feet away always. You reject every advance I make on you… it kind of all steers towards you not liking me…”

“I’ve got to keep away. Not that I want to.”

“Because of what Charles said?”

“Yeah…”

Studying his face, he looked conflicted. Like he was weighing his options out.

“I’m a grown woman Lan. I know what I’m doing.” His ears pricked at the sound of his nickname falling off my lips.

“He doesn’t get to tell me who I can and can’t like.” I felt myself getting more annoyed by the second, “I mean his not even your relative and his telling you what to do.” Standing back up in my frustrated manner. Lando copying my actions leaning against a nearby counter.

By god he looked good, he was just leaning there arms and legs crossed watching me- like I was some crazy woman. Crazy for him that’s for sure.

“He can’t stop me from having feelings- I want to feel something to you know.” Jabbing my palm against my own heart I stopped infront of him.

“Don’t you?” We switched places, myself now leant against the counter Lando now pacing the room. Brushing past each other, the electricity tingling through our finger tips as they just slightly touched.

“I just can’t go there with you…” a sigh left his lips, turning towards me. “His a friend… and friends don’t do that to each other.” I understood what he meant- I mean this is my brother, I get it. But I still wanted more.

“You’d do anything for your friends?” Nodding his head in response, I then straightened my back. “Am I your friend Lando?”

Once again he nodded his head, very slightly like he was scared of what’s coming. I was scared of what’s coming-

“Then kiss me.”

“What?!” His eyes widened as he took a step closer.

“Kiss me.” If I breathed any heavier our chest would touch his that close.

“Are you crazy?”

“About you? Yes.” If he wasn’t so close I would have missed the little smirk on his face.

“Y/N we can’t…”

“We can.”

Now whispering to each other, we wasn’t turning back, he had me trapped between the counter and himself, his arms were either side of my waist holding onto the edge of the counter behind me. “You said you’d do anything for your friends right?”

Our eyes were both dancing over one another- challenging the other to break first. “Just one kiss and I’ll let you go.”

“It won’t just be one kiss with us- we both know that-”

“One kiss and I promise to let you go.”

“One kiss?” Nodding my head a little in response. “One promise.”

Gulping he finally moved in- the kiss was heated right from the start. We both poured the pent up feelings for one another into that one kiss. It was a kiss to say, I like you but I got to let you go.

My hands found his cheeks, holding onto him like he was fragile glass, and his hands made their way off the counter gripping my hips tight before pulling me closer against his chest.

“Y/N?” The sound of Charles scared us both- Lando jumped back staring at me- our chest heaving, our hearts reaching out to each other. “Yeah?” Shouting back, my eyes trained on Lando.

“People are asking where you are.” The door rattled slightly- it was only then I realised Lando had thought ahead. Locking it behind him when he entered.

Lando’s hand reached out, touching my jaw, thumb grazing over my bottom lip. “I’ll be out soon- I felt a bit ill.” Gulping once again my body was on fire. “Want me to send Lorenzo down with some medicine?”

I don’t know what this boy is doing to me- but dancing his fingers down the side of my neck and collarbone while I’m trying to speak felt suffocating.

“No!” Snapping my head to the door. “I’ll be fine- just give me a few minutes.”

“Okay- just let us know if you need anything.” Waiting a few seconds I turned looking back at Lando.

“Okay that-” before I could finish my sentence his lips were back on mine pushing me back against the counter more demanding.

“I promised one.” Mumbling between kisses my hands found themselves snaking around his neck.

Pulling away he looked down at me, “I didn’t.” both catching our breaths. “Putain-” (fuck)

“Not here.” A cheeky smirk fell onto his face, his hands brushing up and down my sides. My fingers were tousling with his hair- both silent just relishing each other.“Meet me after the Dutch GP.” Whatever he said I agreed to- if he wanted me to stand on my head and put on trousers- yes. Always yes.

“Nobody can know about this-”

“What happened to Miss.Independent? Nobody rules her-”

“Charles swore to never speak to me again...” Chewing at my bottom lip I now felt guilty for what I had done. Stepping away from me like I burned him it was as quick as flicking on a switch- the mood changed, he scratched the back of his head. “Fuck…” and just like that I watched him start building them walls again- the walls that kept us separated for so long.

“This wasn’t a good idea…” mumbling he wiped his hands down his face before turning away from me.

“Now it’s not a good idea?” Furrowing my eyebrows at him I felt slightly hurt. “But it was a good idea when you pushed me against the counter for a second kiss-”

“Hey- you asked for the first”

“Because I thought we both wanted that-”

Moving back round to face me he shook his head. “Well I thought you wanted the second kiss-”

“I want all of your kisses.”

“You promised one-”

“And you broke that promise with the second.” He wasn’t winning this argument with me… “So why can’t there be a third, or a fourth?”

“I can’t do that to Charles, Y/N”

“I have more to lose than you do- his my brother. And I was willing to risk it…” boom right there he stabbed my heart.

The no response was more killing than having one. “I see…” nodding my head at him I straightened my back, “maybe I read the signs wrong- you don’t have someone pinned against a counter and telling them to meet you again if you didn’t want it to go further right…” shaking my head in disbelief I fixed my dress and hair before heading towards the door. “see you around I guess...”

My hand was opening the door slightly and I smiled to myself more in shock at his response. “I really hope not.”

—

Lando’s POV

I didn’t want to let her go truthfully… but I had to- no I didn’t care what them boys thought. They could hate my guts for liking their sister, I really did not care- it was more how they would treat her.

Charles was stubborn like most, and he would stick to his word of cutting her out his life all for me- and that alone makes me feel ill the thought of her willing to take such a risk for what could quite well not even work out…

So I had to let her go… and if she didn’t remind me of what she had to lose I may have grabbed her hand, took her in my arms and promised to keep us a forbidden secret- if the risk wasn’t so high for her. Just if.

What’s more worse- I tasted her lips twice and needed her more. More than before, now I needed to know what gets her whispering my nickname like she did moments prior- what gets her writhing, what makes her tick- I ached for it.

Maybe my words pushing her out the door was a mistake… and just maybe I could keep the promise of our secret…

I can’t… it’s just not fair on her-

“Lando?” My head snapped to the door, standing in the doorway was Arthur.

“You okay?” With a signature smile soon plastered on my face, I brushed past him hand clasping his shoulder.

“Never better leclerc.”

Yeah I really couldn’t do it to her.

—

1 week and 4 days had passed since we kissed, every single day I questioned wether what I did was right-

It was right. Don’t question yourself Lando.

It was finally time for the Dutch GP, you would think I’d be focused on the race, and whats ahead. But all I thought about was what I said to Y/N.

“Meet me after the Dutch GP”

And now I just wonder if I didn’t push her away- would she have met me? Something inside me said hell yeah she would have.

I can only wonder what would have happened between us…

Sighing I rubbed the sides of my temple- hoping to erase the thought of her from my mind.

Was she here today? Did she stay home? I mean she left the boat as soon as we parted, saying she still felt unwell. The look she gave me was sickening itself.

Lando fucking focus man.

—

Y/N POV

Did I want to be here? Yeah sure for my brothers. Did I want to see Lando? My heart said yes, my mind said no.

Standing at the back of Charles garage, fiddling with the Ferrari cap in my hand- sure I was nervous, if I bumped into Lando what would I say? Or would I run again?

"Hé, tu veux venir faire un tour dans les stands?" (Hey- wanna come for a walk down the pits?) Charles came into my view, and woke me from my daydreaming.

“bien sûr-” (Sure-) with a half hearted smile, I fell into step next to him.

“tu n'as pas l'air content...” (you don’t seem happy)

Glancing to Charles at my side I looked back ahead of me. “Qu'est-ce qui te fait dire ça?” (What makes you say that?)

“parce que je sais que tu ne le fais pas.” (Because I know you’re not.) Sighing I pulled the Ferrari cap onto my head. “je me demande juste quand ce sera mon tour” (Just wondering when it’ll be my turn)

“à ton tour pour quoi?” (Your turn for what?)

“à mon tour d'être aimé.” (My turn to be loved)

Charles stopped abruptly, myself copying him. “tu es aimé!” (You are loved!)

Tutting I shook my head at him. “par qui?” (By who?)

“Me, Maman, lorenzo, Arthur?” (Mum)

Smiling at him I leaned forward nudging his shoulder with my own.

“je sais que-” (I know that) we started walking again, soon finding ourselves outside a bright orange garage. “I want that toe curling kind of love-” sneaking a quick glance into the garage I see him there- headphones on looking at the screens ahead of him, notepad in hand and a pen pointing at the screens.

“ne me rend pas malade!” (Don’t make me be sick!) Charles gagged in a teasing way, causing me to genuinely smile over at him. “So annoying!” Shoving his head away gently, I turned back around walking with him back to the Ferrari garage. Both shoving and tripping each other on the way. “I’ll get you back Charlie. Just wait.” Declaring infront of the garage- our normal prank wars were just re-starting.

—

The day was nothing out of the ordinary, free practice being the normal, cars going round and round, pit stop practicing, cars in and out of pits. Yep all the normal.

I was tired, and couldn’t wait to get back to my hotel room- shower and sleep, just watching the cars circle round makes you exhausted- no idea how the drivers feel.

And it’s even luckier the hotel is very close by, mine and the boys rooms however. Weren’t.

Charles was at the end of the hall, turn left and then the third door on your right. Arthur was up another floor, and Lorenzo was back at home.

I gave both the boys quick kisses on the cheek before picking my night bag up and making my way to my room, fiddling with the card “key” in my hand. Turning it over itself repeatedly.

“Oh- hi…” kill me right now.

Looking up, a small smile on my face. “Hey- you okay?” It was passing conversation between me and Lando- or so I thought.

“Good as I can be.” Nodding my head in recognition to his response, I pushed my key against the scanner for the door to unlock. Only for it to flash red at me.

“How have you been?” Lando was a few feet behind me, watching as I nervously spammed the scanner. “Oh- Living the dream.” Cussing under my breath I slammed the card against the scanner, shoving the door with my arm. Yet it still blinked red.

Then I smelt his cologne- smelling even stronger now, his arm reached around from behind me- my body tensed up as I waited to see what stunt he was pulling.

Pressing his card against the scanner, it flashed green- with the same hand he pressed it against the door shoving it open a little. “Wrong door-”

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “Merde…” (shit…)

Looking up at the door number, I looked over my shoulder- past Lando and at the door behind him. Shit indeed.

With an embarrassed smile, I moved around him scanning my card and opening the door. “I guess we are neighbours.”

“Seems that way.”

“You look good-”

Closing my eyes I took a moment before re opening them turning to face him.

“Goodnight Lando.” And with that I shut the door on him- he shut me out when I felt probably my most vulnerable- not everyday I tell a guy to kiss me.

Now it was my turn to shut him out- I can get over this silly crush if I just keep shutting him out.

That was more exhausting than the practice session.

—

Qualifying was something- not too great for Charles and Carlos, max on pole like always- and surprisingly Lando also. Not that I was really paying much attention of course- and not that I felt myself smiling slightly when I heard it across the tv.

Which soon faltered when I was watching myself on the screen, a camera directly on me.

“Y/N Leclerc is here in attendance today, although it’s not been a great day for both brothers- she still got a smile on her face!” Rolling my eyes at the camera my smile becoming wide again. I quickly turned away, occupying myself with anything- clearly getting camera shy.

Little did they know, a certain qualifier got me smiling like a goof. But they really didn’t need to know that.

Charles entered the garage, annoyed to say the least. And I stayed clear of him, only speaking to let him know I’m heading back early- seeing as he wanted the garage to stay back and discuss what’s wrong with the car.

When I got back to the hotel, I rushed to my room hoping to avoid a certain guy. Which I was successful at doing.

I showered in peace, got into some pyjamas and settled into bed. The aches in my body easing up each passing minute- I finally felt relaxed.

Until a knock at my door. With a loud groan, I rolled out of bed pulling the door open. “Charles, je viens littéralement d'envoyer un message-“ (Charles I literally just messaged-) pausing I looked up at the curly haired boy. “You’re not Charles.”

“Definitely not. I was wondering if he was with you?” Leaning against the door frame, he looked down at me, and I wasn’t stupid I see his eyes roaming up and down my body.

“No, I left him at the track.” Nodding his head at me he then straightened up. “I guess I’ll catch him later…”

“I guess so.” Slowly I started closing the door and he got the hint, moving back and turning to his own.

“Oh Lan-” quickly he spun his head looking at me over his shoulder. “Congratulations with your qualifying results…” if I wasn’t watching him so hard, I wouldn’t missed his cheeks turning a little red, and the dimple showing when the smile crept onto his face. We both then shut our doors at the same time, the conversation ending on a sweet note…

This crush wasn’t going away any time soon.

—

“Y/N!” Wincing I looked up at a very angry Charles stomping towards me.

“Merde-” (shit-) Stifling a laugh, I slid off the pit wall, ready to make my escape.

“MES CHEVEUX SONT ROUGES!” (I HAVE RED HAIR!)

Scrunching my nose up at him, I glanced at his hair. “I forgot I done that…” stepping away from him, looking behind me every so often making sure to avoid bumping into people.

“C'EST ROUGE!!” (IT’S RED!!)

Tugging at his own hair he crouched down to the floor, “ça à l'air bon...” (It looks good…)

“Nice hair leclerc.” Please not now-

“this your doing?” Looking up at Lando I nodded slightly. “You are brilliant.”

“Don’t!” Glaring at him from the floor was our red head Charles. “I’m not doing anything-” hands up in surrender Lando furrowed his brows. And while they tussle, I made my exit. Back to the comfort of the Ferrari garage.

Ready for the race… I’d say the red maybe good luck!

…but I definitely spoke too soon, and Charles made a rule we don’t discuss what happened today. So just like yesterday I ran back to my hotel room hiding away from the world. The world being Charles, Arthur and Lando.

After getting out the shower I dried off, pulling my underwear on. I started my skin prep and dried my hair off a little with the towel.

There it was, the rattle of my door. Grabbing the robe off the hook, I secured it around my waist. “I swear, if this is Charles I will throttle him.” Grumbling to myself I swung the door open ready to beat the crap out of Charles.

“Charles isn’t here.” Shutting the door on Lando’s face I turned to walk away, before the door knocked again.

With a loud huff I turned pulling it open again. “I just said-”

“Shut up.” Pushing me back into my room, his hands on either of my cheeks, like he was cradling my face. Kissing me with a hunger I didn’t know.

The door slammed shut from Lando kicking it, making me jump slightly, giving me the chance to pull away from him.

“What just happened-” sitting down on the bed behind me- not trusting in my legs to keep me up.

“I couldn’t do it.” Taking a seat in front of me on the mini sofa, he tugged at his own hair. “Can’t do what?”

“Stay away from you. I tried and I can’t.” Looking up at me, we both watched each other. “But you said-”

“I know what I said…”

It fell silent once again, tightening my robe and sitting up straighter, I cleared my throat. “Then what do you want?”

“You.”

“What about my brothers?” Raising my eyebrows at him, I only took notice of how close he got. “Nah, I don’t want them.” Rolling my eyes at him, my back slowly lowering against the bed. “You’re crazy.”

“About you.” Brushing my damp hair back he was now hovering above me. “That’s my line.” Why I was whispering I don’t know- but I was now letting the heart decide, and it decided that all is forgiven and I wanted him.

“Do you remember mine?” His brow quirked.

“Meet me after the Dutch GP?”

Humming he leaned down pressing a delicate kiss to my revealed collarbone.

“I’m glad you did.”

“You’re in my room.” Biting down on my bottom lip, I tugged at his hair gently.

“Let’s make it our room- at least for tonight.”

“Lando-” closing my eyes I fought with my heart- my hands pressed against his shoulders pushing him back slightly.

“I’m sorry-” mumbling he looked down at the minimal space between our bodies. “Don’t apologise for this-”

His hand slid under the robe, grazing up my thigh delicately, eyes trained on me watching how I reacted. “Im not apologising for this.”

My body ached for him, his touch driving me insane. Rolling my hips slightly trying to push myself more against him- if that was even possible. Smiling at my reaction, he licked his bottom lip trying to contain his smile. “I’m sorry for how I treated you.”

“Not to sound too desperate- but can we talk about that- after you really appreciate me.” Quirking a brow at him- my sudden boldness being brought out by lust.

“With pleasure-” gripping onto my waist, he lifted me moving me up the bed resting more into the pillows. “Literally.”

“Please stop with the corniness.”

“I’ll try-” both laughing a little, we fell into each other, delicate kisses, and whispered sweet nothings.

—

When all was said and ‘done’- we laid in silence, the room lit from the bright moon. My head was against Lando’s shoulder, his arm tracing up and down my side.

We was both watching our hands, fingers dancing with one another’s. The silence in the room was comforting oddly enough. And when my hand finally grew tired, it fell against his chest, my head turning, hiding away into his neck.

“That was- amazing.” Sighing he picked my hand up placing a soft kiss against my palm, before turning on his side making us both face each other.

“You’re amazing.” Laughing a little I reached my hand further up brushing his hair back. I was studying his face, how even in this light you can see his flushed face and feel his somewhat damp skin.

“You’re so pretty.” Mumbling lowly, I didn’t realise the words slipped my mouth until I see the smile creep up on his face.

His arms wrapped around my body securely, a kiss pressed against my forehead. “Goodnight.” Smiling up at him I closed my eyes “goodnight lan.”

Laying there eyes closed, I listened to his heartbeat counting the beats like sleep.

“I think I love you…” sighing once again he squeezed me tight press in two more kissed to my forehead.

My heart was pounding my body was so warm- I can’t believe he just said that- is it weird I understand what he means.

Our little secret Norris- I’m needing more.

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