#and I don’t have time to work on .. whatever .

[menagerofmischief]

Nugget Update (MV1)

sumary: y/n's always giddy after getting a nugget update, sure she loves her best boy, but it also has something to do with the cat sitter sending the updates

driver!reader x cat sitter!max verstappen -> habs incoming... series masterlist

cw: not fia approved words, a bit of lance hate (I don't actually hate him), mutual pinning, the grid teasing the reader, lot of appearances from the reader's cat, kissing, kinda mean!reader (to the grid)

wc: 4.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing in 2nd person so bear with me. also, I low key hate this and it may be shit. not proof read!

“Well aren’t you a ball of sunshine?” A voice called out, disturbing the peace - or the closest thing to peace you could have near a Formula 1 track.

Your gaze snapped up, eyes narrowing as you took in the man standing on the entry of the RedBull garage. “Hello, Charles,” you replied, a teasing bite obviously heard in your voice as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know you wanted to experience what a successful garage looks like but I thought Ferrari had a better hold on you.”

Charles laughs, his eyes crinkling as his lips stretch into a smile. Teasing Charles was always a fun time but that’s all it was, just a bit of fun. It never stretched into something meaner, just two people showing affection by teasing each other.

Charles had been your very first real friend on the grid. The first to offer his hand with a smile and genuinely mean it. The first to congratulate you on a win after getting out of the car or the first to say that the next race would be better. Really, he was your best friend, but you would never tell him that or it would go to his head.

“Funny, very funny.” He said, his accent thick. His eyes slid around the motor home until finally meeting your own. “Lot of drivers are going out for drinks, came by to invite you.”

“I don’t Charles,” you started to say, going through your mental list of excuses, searching for the best one to use to avoid this social interaction.

“Oh come on!” He whined, rolling his eyes. He gave you a look that let you know you could stop thinking about an excuse because he wasn’t going to be buying it. “We won’t stay that long and it’s night race tomorrow so you don’t need to wake up at the crack of dawn.”

You pressed your lips together, the lip gloss previously applied making them slide against each other easily. 

Charles kissed his teeth, nodding his head along. Fine, he’ll play the game. “Some of the WAG’s are coming as well.”

“Are you really trying to lure me out by promising female company?”

“Is it working?”

“Eh,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Will you pay my tab?”

Charles scoffed. “Pay your tab?” He asked, sounding as if you had asked him for his firstborn. “You’re filthy rich! You have a bigger salary than me!”

“Yeah, they do pay world champions a bit extra, comes with the title.” You replied, grinning at him, a wide teasing grin, your eyes twinkling. 

“Fine whatever, I’ll pay your tab.” He said, raising his hands in surrender. “Now go take that suit off and shower, you look disgusting.”

“You look like a trash can threw you up!”

“It threw me up because it saw you!” Charles shouted back in response, his back already turned to you as he walked away, back to the Ferrari garage. 

And that’s how you ended up in the bar, an hour later. Squished in the not too comfortable and definitely not meant to sit so many people, booth. With George’s girlfriend Carmen on your left, and Pierre’s girlfriend Kika on your right, and deep in conversation with both of them. 

You feel your phone vibrate under your hand on the table, and the screen lights up, showing off your wallpaper, a picture of your beloved cat Nugget.

You tune off from the conversation the moment the message arrives, grabbing your phone and pulling it in towards you. Your face lights up, lips stretching into a smile as your eyes focus on the sender ID. Maxie.

Or rather Max. The very cute guy who was your cat sitter whenever you were out and about in the world, chasing the racing track. 

With a quick move of your fingers, you swipe up, opening your phone and going into the message app. Fingers quickly tapping along the screen of your phone as you type out your reply.

With a smile you closed the messages app, pressing your fingers against the button on the side of your phone, watching the screen go black before setting it face down onto the table. As you looked back up, Lando’s amused yet teasing expression caught your eye.

You leaned forward against the table, pressing your hands to the wooden surface as you attempted to get a bit closer to the driver on the other side of the table. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh nothing,” he said with a laugh. “Just wondering who you’re texting, that’s all.” He intertwined his fingers, elbows pressed against the table and leaned forward as well. “You were all grumpy cat but then you get a message and suddenly you’re all smiles.”

“Grumpy cat?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at the McLaren driver. “I’m not a grumpy cat. And for the record, that was Nugget’s babysitter and he was sending me a picture of Nugget.”

Lando laughs, there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he wants to say more but he holds himself back. “Can I see? I haven’t seen the orange gremlin in so long.”

“That’s very mean,” you say, opening your phone to show him the picture, that Max had sent you. “Nugget would never say that about you.”

“That’s because Nugget can’t speak.” He looks at the screen and his lips twist upward in a smirk. “Who’s Maxie?”

You breathe out through your nose, teeth digging into your bottom lip. When you speak your voice is sharp, it leaves no room for questioning things or an invite to ask more questions. “The cat sitter.”

“I’m sure that’s all he is.” Lando laughs when you show him your middle finger before settling back into your seat and returning to the previously abandoned conversation with the two WAG’s.

The race went pretty smoothly, as always. Starting from pole, keeping the lead the whole race and with a 20s gap to car in P2. Everything after that was pretty much a blur, the interviews, partying through the night with the grid and boarding the jet early in the morning.

The sun already started setting by the time you made it to Monaco. With a sigh you rummaged through your bag, blindly feeling around the stuff inside before your fingers finally wrapped around the keys.

Opening the apartment door you walked inside, gently laying down your suitcase as your eyes settled on the scene in your living room. Right there, laying on your couch, in deep sleep, and cuddling your cat is Max Verstappen. 

His hair had fallen over his eyes and the position he’s in looks rather uncomfortable, you’re sure his body will be aching when he wakes up. His chest was raising and falling with each breath he took, little sighs slipping past his lips. Nugget was cuddled up to him, curled in a ball.

You looked at him for a few moments before starting to move around as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake him up. 

Max had been cat sitting for you for a while now. Half of last season and now half of this one so almost a year. He was a sweet, kinda shy, mostly nerdy guy you ran into in a coffee shop and spilled his coffee. You offered to buy him a new one and he joined you for the coffee and you got to talking when he said he was looking for a job so you offered him to become your pet sitter.

At that point you really did need someone to look after your cat while you were gone, since you had broken up with your ex who usually took care of Nugget while you were away. And you couldn’t leave Nugget with your parents since your father was allergic to cats.

Now, your best friend who had been working in a different country had returned to Monaco and said she’d be more than happy to look after Nugget - but you wanted to keep Max around. 

Already having grown used to coming home after a race weekend to find him there, just existing in your space.

Nugget’s whiskers twitch, his eyes opening and he pulls himself away from Max, stretches out and then trots over to you, rubbing his head against your leg affectionately while purring. He let out a happy, albeit a bit too loud, meow when you picked him up and on the other side of the room Max began stirring from his sleep.

He opened his eyes, a bit confused, and rubbed his knuckles against his eyes to wake up, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light filling up the room. 

“You’re back,” he says, his voice is gentle, still sleepy and a bit quiet. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sweet smile that has you immediately smiling back at him. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry about that.”

“Oh no, it’s no problem,” you reply, running your hand over Nugget’s fur as the cat lay happily in your arms. “You can use the guest bedroom if you’re tired, you know. The couch may be expensive but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable for sleep.”

“I didn’t want to overstep,” Max said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. You approached the couch and sat down, the cat nestling in your lap and purring in content. Max smiled, reaching out his hand and petting Nugget.

“Nonsense Max, you’re not overstepping.” You cut him off, leaving no room for argument. You always told him to feel at ease in your apartment, that he was welcome to any food in the fridge and free to use the guest room as he pleased but even after all this time there was still a slight air of awkwardness backed up by the fear of going a bit too far.

Max’s eyes settled on you, your own focused on your cat so you didn’t notice him looking. He watched the way you cooed at Nugget, asking if he was a good boy while you were away and petting him gently, and his lips stretched into a small, careful smile.

He spoke before thinking. The words left his mouth before he even finished the thought inside of his head. “I watched the race,” he said, and your eyes instantly snapped up to meet his. He swallowed, already too deep to back down. “It - “ he licked his lips, trying to decide his next words, feeling like his tongue had tied itself up in a knot. “You were spectacular. It was lovely … simply lovely.”

You let out a breath, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards and you gave him a thankful look. Max swore he could feel his heart beating in his throat, and felt his cheeks heat up. “Thank you,” you said, your voice gentle, holding a comforting tone. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. And it’s nice - knowing you watched.”

“It is?”

You bit your lip, teeth scraping against you bottom lip as you looked at him, your brain running faster than the Sauber (like it’s hard) as you tried to come up with a response. “It’s kind of comforting,” you finally said, after what felt like a small forever.

You hummed, looking down at your nails. “I was thinking about bringing Nugget with me to the next race. It’s been a while since he was in the paddock.”

“Oh,” Max said, an edge of confusion noticeable in the tone of his voice. “Does that mean that you don’t need me coming over next week?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would come with.” You say, before you can talk yourself out of making the proposition.

Max tilts his head to the side, kind of like a confused cat and you try your best not to giggle at the mental image. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

“If you wanted to attend the Grand Prix,” you tell him, running the edge of one of your nails along your skin. “Cuz’ I’m still gonna need someone to look after Nugget, and you do that in general so this would just be an added bonus of traveling.”

Max is silent for a few moments and you think he’ll decline. You wouldn't fully blame him if he did, you know what the pressure of the paddock can be like. You’re about to open your mouth, tell him that ‘never mind, it was a stupid idea anyway’ and put him out of the trouble of finding a polite way to decline when he finally speaks. 

“I suppose, if you want me to then yeah, I’ll come along to watch Nugget.” He says, trying to ignore the nervous feeling building up in his chest when you smile at him, a wide happy smile that makes him instantly smile back.

“Great!” You said, the excitement evident in your voice. “Someone from the team will contact you in a while to arrange the tickets and leave the rest to me.” Max nods, he doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with the way his throat is closing up and it makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

“Look at you all giggly,” Charles teased, gently pushing your shoulder with his hand. He wiggled his eyebrows, a laugh slipping past his lips as you glared at him.

“Charles, why don’t you turn around and flash your pretty face to the crowd.” You said, rolling your eyes. You looked at the stadium full of people who were shouting out for their favorite drivers, waving banners and cheering happily. You smiled towards the stadium and lifted your hand up, waving your fingers to the public. “Give them a wave.”

“See, I always knew you thought I was pretty,” Charles replied, waving at the public. The two of you and the rest of the grid were in a wagon, going around the track for the drivers parade, so essentially you were stuck with him for at least five more minutes. “Now, do tell who’s got you smiling like that.”

“Is it Maxie?” Lando asked, the teasing tone evident in his voice. He pushed himself closer to you and Charles, inserting himself into the conversation. 

“Didn’t your mom teach you not to eavesdrop?” 

“No, no!” Charles said, shaking his head as he waved his hand dismissively as you, his full attention now focused on Lando. “Who’s Maxie?”

Lando smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “The cat sitter,” he said in a sing-song kind of voice. 

“The one you brought to your garage?” The Ferrari driver asked, his attention back on you. “The pretty one.”

“Hold up!” Lando almost shouted, raising his hands. “You brought him with you to the Grand Prix?!”

“I didn’t … well I did bring him.” You said with a sigh, there was no escaping this now. “But it’s not like that. He’s here to watch Nugget.”

“And for you to watch him - because boy that is one good arm candy.”

“Charles, your homosexual is showing,” you warned.

“But you’re not denying it,” Charles noted, giving you a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him but finally gave in. “Yes, I’m not denying it.”

You stepped back into the motor home, your eyes immediately searching for Max and finally you found him talking to your lead engineer. As you approached the two you could start to hear their conversation and quickly realized they were talking about how the car worked and what went on behind the scenes at a Grand Prix. You found it cute that Max was interested in that.

His eyes met yours and his face lit up, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards into a smile. “You’re back!” He said, “After terrorizing everyone around and getting pets, Nugget decided to settle down for a nap. He’s in your driver's room.”

Max gave you a wink after saying that and you had to hold in a giggle. You excused yourself to go to your driver’s room, with Max following behind you. The first thing you noticed when you went inside was Nugget, curled up on the massage bed and sleeping without a care.

The next thing that grabbed your attention was a dozen pastries lined up on a small table next to the couch. They were all individually wrapped in tissues.

“Max,” you said, picking up one of the pastries and unwrapping it. “I really did mean only one pastry, you know?” You bit into the chocolate filled pastry, moaning at the taste of a treat you weren’t usually allowed to have when it was race week. “My trainer will strangle me if he sees.”

“I swear, no one saw anything.” Max said, shuffling over to the couch and sitting down. “I was sneakier than Nugget when he’s stealing my food.”

“Oh, now that’s a very serious claim.” You told him with a laugh, his own laugh echoing back. You picked up one of the wrapped pastries and offered it to him. “Take one, or five. There’s no way I’m eating it all.”

He takes the pastry you’re offering him, his fingers brushing against your own as he takes it from your hand, sending sparks of electricity down your spine. After a second of hesitation you sit down next to him, the two of you eating the treats in comfortable silence.

His thigh nudges against yours and you turn to face him, finding that he’s already looking at you. He smiles and you don’t hesitate to smile back.

The practices go great, P2 in FP1, P1 in FP2 and P1 in FP3. 

The qualifying is where a slight setback shows up, with quali being ended early due to a crash and a red flag, putting you in P10 for the start of the race tomorrow.  

Once the car had rolled back into the pits you wasted no time getting out, putting the steering wheel back into place before storming into your driver’s room. 

You pulled your helmet off, fingers curling into the bottom of your balaclava as you pulled it off, throwing it next to your helmet before bringing your hands up to smooth down your hair. 

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Pepe.” You said without turning around, assuming it was your race engineer coming to talk about the outcome of qualifying. “Fucking Lance and his fucking money made seat - if that little frog screws up another quali, I’ll be the one crashing him out.”

��I’m not Pepe,” the other person in the room says and you instantly turn around, your eyes wide as they meet Max’s blue ones. “And I’m certainly glad I’m not Lance.”

You looked him up and down, eyes trailing over his figure. You took notice of Nugged, cuddled up in his arms and looked at you curiously, and reached your hand out to pet the cat, a long breath slipping past your lips. 

“Sorry,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “I didn’t really mean for you to hear that.”

Max barely heard what you were saying. Too distracted by the sight of you for his brain to properly register your words. Your skin was slightly glistening with sweat, an imprint from where your helmet and balaclava had dug into your skin still visible on your flushed cheeks. Your messy hair, and your chest raising and falling with each breath you took as you were still working on catching up your breath.

Max blinked, finally snapping out of his thoughts and focusing his attention back to what you were saying. “They should have let you finish the lap.” 

“I agree but sadly that’s not how it works.”

Max nodded along, not really knowing what to say to that so he switched to the next topic. “I ran into your friend. He invited you, and me, out for drinks. I think it would be nice to go, you seem like you need a drink.”

“Yeah, I definitely do.” You replied, taking Nugget from his arms and into your own, stroking down the cat’s body. “Which friend?”

“Uh,” Max started, thinking of a way to describe the guy since he couldn’t remember his name. “Wears red, pretty, sounds French.”

You laughed, smiling at him. “That’s Charles. I hope you didn’t tell him he sounds French, he gets offended by that.”

“Then it’s great I kept it to myself.”

You laughed in reply, putting Nugget down to the floor, the cat immediately moving to a cozy corner and curling up into a ball on the floor, shutting his eyes. “The hotel is right next to the track, you can take Nugget back while I shower and then we can go - if you want to.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Max replied with a smile.

You showered and put on a clean set of clothes just in time to meet Max after he finished dropping Nugget back to the hotel, leaving him with toys, food and water. The two of you made your way to the bar to join the rest of the grid for a night out. 

Some of the drivers were playing pool while their girlfriends were engrossed in a conversation so that left you and Max sitting together, sharing drinks and talking.

“I just …” you started, cracking your fingers. “I don’t know, this quali really messed up my mood and I was riding on such a high after the practices going well. It all feels shit now.”

“Maybe you just need more motivation for the race.” Max offered, drinking the rest of the liquor from his glass in one go. 

“You have something in mind, Maxie?” You asked, the nickname slipping past your lips without a thought now that you’ve had a few drinks. 

“How about a kiss if you get on the podium?” He said, his voice suggestive. Normally he never would have dared to say something like that but the alcohol courage really worked wonders. 

Your eyes widened, clearly not expecting him to be so bold or to suggest that. He took your reaction as a bad sign, immediately straightening up as a wave of dread quickly sobered him up.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, the expression on his face shifting into a panicked one. “That was stupid. It was thoughtless. It was -”

“A great motivation,” you cut him off, putting a finger up against his lips to silence him. “It was a great motivation.”

His cheeks burned as his eyes met yours. He looked so vulnerable, his bright eyes impossibly wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“One more corner to go but you’re in the clear,” Pepe’s voice echoed over the radio. You blinked, your eyes focused on the track before you, the checkered flag already visible along with your team gathering in the front. “That’s P1, Y/n. Phenomenal drive today, you deserved it!”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice breathless as you moved your hands, going through the last corner and speeding towards the finish line. “Thank you, Pepe.” You repeated, swallowing your spit. “It was lovely, simply lovely.”

You put the car into P1, getting out and posing for a picture on top of your car. You could hear the shouts, the cheers, the celebration. You took off your helmet, ripping off your balaclava and putting them both into the car before turning around to face the team, eyes searching for a particular face. 

Finally, you spotted Max. Standing besides your engineer, a proud expression on his face as he looked at you with a wide smile. You didn’t hesitate, feet moving before you could think and then you were in front of him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down, smashing your lips into his.

The kiss was desperate, both of having waited long enough for it. He wrapped his arms around you, the best he could with the fence between you, kissing you back with need. 

You finally pulled away when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, learning your forehead against his. Nothing else mattered, not the public, not the team, not the celebration. Only him, finally yours.

“Simply lovely, right?” You asked, your voice breathless.

“Simply lovely!” Max repeated back to you, before kissing you once again. And he really did mean it - everything was simply lovely.

tag list: @formula1-motogpfan @misty-inferno @thelemonque3n @marvel-hotchner @strangemaximoff @folkloresreputation @pippyth3hippy @adharacambridge @theseerbetweenus @sebastianstansblog @tellybearryyyy @six-call @grussellsprout @oikarma @justcharlotte @annimausi

i hope i tagged everyone who said they wanted to be on the tag list. hope you enjoyed this one and keep an eye out for the poll about the next part of the series <3

[pathologicalreid]

central nervous system | s.r.

in which you are drugged on what should've been a routine case

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; hurt/comfort content warnings: being drugged, threatened sexual assault, season 10, blood, broken glass, in a bar but reader doesn't drink, jareau!reader. word count: 1.7k a/n: oh dear. this week was so eternally long. work was crazy busy i worked overtime and almost ended up in the hospital which all led up to me taking the lsat today. crazy shit, but margovember will prevail. also! i'm hoping to get masterlists updated tomorrow if that's something you've been waiting on.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” an unfamiliar voice intrudes on your private thoughts, looking around the bar that you had been planted in to see if you could catch your UnSub before he had the chance to attack someone else.

He sets a glass in front of you, and you drop some cash on the wooden surface, you shrug, “I’m in town on business.”

The bartender laughs heartily at your response before shaking his head, “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just—that’s a line I hear a lot.”

Your face warms at the recognition that the bartender was flirting with you, but this is a man who gets paid to be nice. You take his words at face value and sip at your drink, “Well, I have no reason to lie to you,” you squint at his name tag, “Jackson.”

He wipes down a spill, hooking the rag over the sink, and smiling at you, “Well, it’s nice to meet an honest woman.”

Following him with your eyes as he walks away, that last comment rubs you the wrong way, but Jackson Gleason was the bar manager, and Garcia had already cleared him from the suspect list.

You find yourself wishing Hotch had sent you into the bar with an earbud to communicate with the team, but instead, you were handed a phone, preprogrammed to alert the team if you hit the power button. There was a plainclothes officer somewhere in a corner to keep an eye on you, and the rest of the team was at the precinct or in an unmarked van outside.

Kate had coached you to the best of her abilities, but this wasn’t your first time going undercover. Catching serial rapists was more her speed, but she was pregnant, which immediately took her out of the running. Sipping from the thin straw in your glass, you let your eyes wander around the bar, antique posters and advertisements are littered across the walls, and someone just started playing Radiohead on the jukebox.

Eyeing the phone in your purse, you sigh, stirring the ice in your cup listlessly.

“Can I get you another? Maybe something stronger?” The manager offers, returning from the employees-only door with a new package of straws to restock the bar.

You shake your head, holding your empty glass out of him to take, “The same thing is fine.” Ignoring the fact that you don’t drink—you couldn’t drink on the job; all you’d been given was a coke.

He raises his eyebrows at that, “Suit yourself,” he says, ignoring the fact that you were trying to hand off your already dirtied glass to him and filling a clean cup with ice and coke.

Brushing it off as company policy, you thank him for the drink, placing another few dollars on the bar and smiling at him. Over your shoulder, you glance at the plainclothes officer, engaging in an animated conversation with another patron over whatever sports game is playing on the TV. You suspect he’s a little too good at pretending to be off the clock.

You make a face at the straw in your glass, and the bartender notices, “Sorry, just ran out of plastic.”

Taken aback, you use the paper straw anyway, sipping at your drink while you still can—knowing the straw will inevitably disintegrate.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice something wrong, a dull ache in your chest exacerbated by a slight rise in your body temperature. Your fingertips feel hot like they would after coming inside from the cold. You look down to find the emergency phone in your purse, but your head droops with your eyes, every controlled movement before a struggle.

“Hey,” Gleason says, jutting his chin in your direction, “You don’t look so great.”

A different version of yourself would’ve given him snark in return, but that different version of yourself would’ve been able to feel her extremities. “Woah,” You breathe, trying to swing your legs off of the stool only to find that you’re much higher from the ground than you initially thought.

When you lift your head again, whipping it back so hard you’re afraid it might fly off, he’s standing directly in front of you, “Why don’t I take you out back? You can get some fresh air,” the offer is innocent enough, but it rubs you the wrong way. His hand is on your waist, at the very least you know that’s wrong—you have a boyfriend, and it’s not this guy.

No, your boyfriend is outside of the bar in a van, waiting for your signal because you’re… oh. “No,” you whisper, trying to get your breathing under control. “I’m— Where’s my phone?” You’re digging through your purse as he stands you up and guides you to the back of the bar, closer to a large exit sign.

Sirens are going off in your head, but even they sound separated from your situation. “I can call a cab for you,” he assures you, leading you by your arm and closer to the back door.

“No,” you say again, “I really need my phone…” his grip tightens on your wrist, practically dragging you out of the bar while you use your free hand to find your phone, pushing the power button before it slips out of your hand, clattering to the ground. “That really hurts,” you tell him, now able to give more of your focus to evading the man who was most decidedly not Jackson Gleason.

Pulling your arm back, you manage to break free from him, the momentum from your struggle sends your hand flying into a picture frame, shattering the glass and causing the UnSub to spin on his heel. “Look at what you did,” he seethes, gripping your hair at the back of your head and forcing you to look at the shattered glass.

Your mouth gapes at the sensation of your hair being pulled until there’s a rush of cold air and he pushes you forward, into the waiting arms of someone else, “Woah, hey, I’ve got you,” Spencer says, keeping you off of the floor and, with the help of someone else, carrying your dead weight over to one of the booths.

Spencer clambers into the booth seat first, seating you in front of him so that your back is pressing against his chest. You let out a low groan when he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping your body from flopping onto the sticky hardwood.

“Do you know what you took?” He asks, pressing his face into your hair so that the two of you can keep your voices down.

Vaguely aware of the way his fingers are pressing into the pulse point on your wrist, you shake your head, “I didn’t take anything.”

He hums in response, “You were drugged. I— I’m so sorry we didn’t realize who it was sooner. By the time we realized there was a discrepancy in Jackson Gleason’s file, you had already pushed the alert button,” he tells you, being careful not to move around too much. “Can you lift your head for me? It’ll help your breathing.”

With tremendous effort—and some help from Spencer—you lift your head, letting it rest on him. Now, you can see that the majority of the bar has cleared out, Rossi watches you nervously from the bar, telling Spencer something about paramedics. You huff, “Where’s JJ?”

“She’ll meet us at the hospital, love,” he answers you, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

Trying to adjust yourself, you shake your head indeterminably, “No, it’s… I need my sister. I need my sister.” Somewhere—a past version of yourself, perhaps—you knew that JJ was at the hospital, speaking with one of the survivors.

Spencer speaks with someone that you can’t see, they’re standing in your periphery, a mangled blur of a person. Moments later, something cold is pressed to your face, and the sensation makes you jump, “Ow,” you whine, though it doesn’t hurt.

“Ducky?” Your sister’s voice rings through the phone, and you’re surprised to hear her using your nickname. Although, your status as JJ’s little sister tends to come through when you’re hurt.

You hum into the receiver, “Hi, J,” you greet wearily.

A sigh of relief is her next response, “Hey, Derek said you’re waiting for the paramedics to take you to the hospital, and I’ll be here to greet you when you arrive. Does that sound alright?”

“It’s cold in here,” you mumble, wondering if Derek is the blurry shape remaining in your periphery.

There’s a pause on her end before she speaks up again, “I’m sorry, Ducky.” There it was again. “You’ll be okay though; you just have to wait it out.”

You nod as a jacket is laid out on your lap; Spencer must’ve heard you mention being cold to your sister. Your boyfriend whispers something to you, “Spencer says the paramedics are here and I can’t talk to you anymore.”

JJ laughs slightly on the phone, “I’ll see you when you get here, okay?”

“Yeah, J,” you whisper, letting someone take the phone from you. You frown at Spencer, “I don’t feel quite right.”

Helping you get on the gurney, Spencer holds your hand while an EMT wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm, “He likely gave you a central nervous system inhibitor.”

You nod slowly, wrinkling your nose when the other paramedic shines a light in your eyes, “I am nervous,” you answer. Trying to listen to the medical personnel as they explain what’s going on, but it all goes in one ear and out the other. One of them crudely wraps a cut on your hand to staunch the bleeding, but you couldn’t even remember when it started to bleed.

Anxiously, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t bite down on your lip,” Spencer instructs, “You could bite right through it and not even realize.”

Releasing your lip, your eyes widen at him while he pulls a blanket over your shoulders. “That’s scary,” you whisper.

“I agree,” he says, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “It is scary.”

[reignpage]

Basketball captain!Toji

10th april: catharsis

warning: 18+ mdni, blowjob, face fucking, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, nipple pinching, passing out, unprotected sex, not proofread

basketball captain!toji has you at your wits’ end. it’s been three weeks since he last fucked you and you couldn’t possibly take more. you’re losing sleep, you’ve got huge circles under your eyes and hearing your friends talk about their recent sexcapades has you twitching like a madwoman. 

so you decide enough is enough. 

especially because playoffs are tomorrow and if you don’t do something about this drought he’s forced upon you now, you fear you’ll actually die of dehydration before the team gets to the court. 

basketball captain!toji is at home and his roommate is off terrorising children no doubt. now is the perfect time to strike. you’re going all out and pulling out the big guns. letting yourself into their apartment once more, you surveil the area. the tv’s running, playing one of the games in which they lost, and your boyfriend’s in the kitchen cooking dinner. 

tiptoeing like your life depends on it, you sneak up right behind him and tackle him into a bear hug (as close to one as you can considering his enormous size). he doesn’t even glance back at you. the bastard knew the entire time you’re here. 

“hey ma, hungry?”

running a hand up his shirtless back, you admire his muscles. all the training and gym sessions has made him even bigger and tougher-looking. god, his back muscles are ripping with every move and every breath, tensing and softening with your touch. 

“toji,” you whisper against his skin, “i miss you.”

he huffs a laugh and turns to wrap a heavy arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side with a kiss to your head. “’m right here, ma.”

basketball captain!toji is being uncharacteristically sweet. you hate it. he’s softening you up, distracting you with his boyish grin and teasing kisses to your hair. but you must stand your ground. you’ve got a game plan. 

with a warning bite to his bicep, you fall to the floor with grace and yank down his joggers with much less grace. your jaw drops. he’s hard, fully hard, the tip an angry red leaking so much pre you almost thought he came already. basketball captain!toji isn’t even wearing boxers. 

that bastard. 

you look up at his face, feeling irritated by the rise of his brow, as if faking a look of shock. 

“you ain’t gonna buy me dinner first, baby?”

maybe it’s the shit-eating grin basketball captain!toji has or maybe it’s the mocking tone of his voice, but whatever it is, it has you gripping the base of his throbbing cock with much more force than he expects. he stiffens. 

you don’t waste time; you open wide and take as much of him as you can. he tastes slightly salty and musky, like hard work and late nights. it’s been too long and your jaw has gotten too comfortable in the interval. you wince at the stretch and feel a prick of fear at how your pussy’s gonna fare when he’s plowing between your legs without mercy. 

god, you’re soaked at just the thought of it. 

basketball captain!toji fists your hair and thrusts into the back of your throat without warning, feeling empowered by your gargles. he doesn’t have rhythm, he’s just thrusting as he please, and you know you have him. 

motherfucker wants this more than you do. 

“ha, this what you wanted for dinner?”

you roll your eyes at the same time as you roll your tongue over his slit, rejoicing in the hiss you pull out of him. he narrows his eyes at you and pulls you off, lifting your head up slightly by the makeshift ponytail he’s made.

“don’t sass me, ma. i was gonna fuck you nice and slow but you changed my mind.”

both of you know damn well he’s lying through his teeth but before you can voice that, he’s spinning you around and pinning your face to the cold marble surface. he’s lifted your skirt up, flicking it over and he pauses at the sight that beholds him. 

you’re wearing a thong with his name on it.

smiling, you shake your hips like a temptress, egging him on, daring him to say and do something.

basketball captain!toji is palming your ass, his thumb rubbing the flimsy string between your cheeks. you can’t see what face he’s making but that just makes you wetter. 

is he impressed? is he mad? or both? neither?

you yelp. he’s slapped your ass and the sting is gonna leave a mark. 

“you got this for me, ma? ha, you missed me that much?”

the pulsing between your legs, the wetness running down your thighs, his monstrous grip groping and pinching all over, it was making you delirious. you laugh, a cackle that escapes you and doesn’t register in your head. 

then he’s pushing aside your thong and sheathing himself in one thrust. you both moan. oh, it’s so good. the burn’s making you drool, the way his head’s rubbing against that spongy part inside of you again and again and again. it’s all too much. 

basketball captain!toji has one hand holding your hips and dragging you back and forth on his unbelievable length whilst the other is holding your tit captive. he’s twisting your nipple and sucking your neck, leaving a wet trail of apologies to your ear. 

“ha, was mean, wasn’t i? sorry baby, shit!”

you aren’t even listening, too focused on that pleasurable ache between your legs as he pummels your poor pussy like you’re just a wet hole. twisting your neck, you meet his lips in a clash of tongue and teeth. it’s messy and chaotic but it makes you clench down on him. 

“fuck!” he spanks your ass, eliciting a whine from you. “gonna -ngh- milk me too early, ma.”

basketball captain!toji speeds up his thrusts, rubbing your clit with a ferocity that steals your breath, all while hitting that same spot inside of your wet tunnel.  over and over again. 

you have no idea how long it’s been, maybe thirty minutes, three hours or mere seconds. time escapes you, so caught up in what you’ve been chasing for weeks, you don’t want to miss a single second on this rapture. 

you’re climbing higher and higher, voice pitching and moans so broken you probably sound demonic. his hands are so big, pressing warmth into your skin whilst his sweaty skin blankets your back, the weight so reassuring, so heavenly you hope he never leaves. 

“right there, yes! pleasepleasepleaseplease!” 

the tsunami of euphoria that washes over you, erasing all of your frustrations and grievances against the man, makes you black out. for a solid minute you lose your bearings, grappling for a tether as your legs shake. he’s still fucking you through it, groaning in your ear from the repeated clenches you’re making on his cock. 

“glad you’re here ma, wanted to empty my — shiiiiiit — balls before the game. such a good girl, helping me out.”

when you come to, it takes you a second to realise he hasn’t cum yet, just making shallow thrusts whilst he…

basketball captain!toji is eating his dinner whilst still inside of you, ignoring the way you’re genuinely spasming, tongue-tied from the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had, courtesy of his three weeks long tortuous experiment. 

basketball captain!toji notices your disbelieving glare and flashes you a wolfish grin, his scar stretching in an annoyingly delectable way. 

“want some?”

[eclipsen-smiles]

I doubt any of you want to know but I love talking about them so-

Eclipse’s version (I’ll do Chai’s on my art account.)

Any variation of “I’m fine” or “it’s fine”

Basically never. They’re/we’re SHIT at verbal affection.

Also practically never, unless around either their world’s family or the bloodpack.

Childcare.

Yes. They don’t think of anything. They just can. Their human form is small and pathetic looking, they use it for pity. (I do. I’m tiny. I look young. It’s so so so easy to get idiots in trouble.)

Favourite show: ever after high. They will never mention this. Ever.

Fuckshit. Probably. Or just “GET YO ASS OVER HERE.” With their gf…… the SpongeBob theme. Eclipse is still childish at heart.

There’s actually a list.

Nothing= anon

Friend= distant.

Name = talked once or twice.

Nickname= close

Hun/bud/pal/pet names= family or extremely close. Or if they’re concerned.

It depends on the situation. It’s a weird mix. They can be very rough, but they’re usually gentle at the same time.

Random facts about mental states. Usually things that make people feel better. (Ie; fun fact, you’re face is distorted through your eyes, so how you see yourself isn’t what other people see.)

Trust me. You’ll tell. (They’re already behind them.)

People being dumb. Or people trying to insult them. (Please. Try to. It’s hilarious.)

Always. I don’t think they know how to smile naturally at this point.

With their finger. Or hand.

Home: kinda dull, calm. Work: silent, disassociated. Friends: HYPER. ABABABA. MISCHIEF. PRANKS. alone: no facial expression.

Idiots.

Memories. Others, idk.

Luna. Believe it or not, but their version of lunar is almost MORE psychopathic than them…

Panic. Not because of the person, but because they’re trapped. (One, that shouldn’t be possible. two, agoraphobia.)

1:Unknown. 2: the astals. Specifically the higher ups.

Uhh.. eye contact, I guess. They’re fine with it, but they know others aren’t.

Hilariously, normal work hours. And taking breaks.

OHHH BOY LET ME TELL YOU- (reminder: luna is a ghost.)

Bold of you to assume they only took one.

Uhh.. random facts from plants and animals to history to cooking. They’re 600+, they’ve had a LOT OF FREETIME.

Laughter.

A “dont do drugs” pencil. Responded with heavy laughter.

A break. I pled the fifth (death.)

“Your funeral”

Heavily different because of the topic of their work. Personal= eh whatever. Work= oh fuck oh shit

.. seeing luna happy actually causes the most guilt.

MONEY PRINTING. WHO NEEDS A JOB WHEN YOURE GOD?

Silence and a glare

Family/not super close friends/people who look up to them: very calm but visibly happy. Close friends/people close to them/people who don’t necessarily hold them highly: ABBABABABABABAB

…so…many

Tartarus. “Can’t kill him yet. He still has use.” But DAMN DO THEY WANT TO. (Tar is a corrupt ass in their au btw.)

Actually nothing serious. Like… nothing. Besides secrets others have told them.

Hahehakfjkwnf. One that I have. Juggling.

Excluded. They hate having people include them just for pity. Though that’s if they know. (Same philosophy as me. Just being invited is enough. Even if I can’t come or I don’t have to actively participate.)

Depends. If the person looks annoyed it’s “what an ass.” If they look neutral or uncomfortable, it’s quickly “are they okay?” or “am I too imposing?”

Unknown at the moment.

Guilt and tragedy coping. Self explanatory

They’re quick to assume people being uncomfortable or afraid is because of them. They will not mention this.

Any. Since built in language processors, but probably Spanish since is such a direct translation language.

Shoes/socks in the house. What’s the fucking point. Take em off.

Listener. Make them talk? They’re autistic. You. Will. know.

EVERYONE FROM THIER ORIGINAL WORLD. EVERYONE. they either are still on the “glad they’re dead” bandwagon or the “holy shit he(moon) killed a mostly innocent dude.” Wagon.

Girlfriend. Friends. Family. Literally anyone they know. Hey, who coulda guessed, the person grappling with their past is a people pleaser!!

Nope. Politely decline

Hhhhhh….. past morals I guess? The old belief of corporeal punishment? (they don’t now.)

“Hun” when they’re concerned.

Self explanatory (mod is a lawyer…. Eclipse is at heart..)

The blood pack or their gf. (Too much shit has happened for them to NOT believe the pack. They’re safety is top priority)

Freeze to fight in normal situations. Straight to fight in dangerous situations. Freeze to “JEESUS” in safe situations.”

Destroying worlds. It’s their job, sure, but they’d much rather stop what’s CAUSING it.

Gf usually. But she’s back on the “hub world” so probably no one.

Eating. Sleeping. Drinking…. Self care.

ALL OF THEM.

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What’s the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

[51voices]

A Step too Far

Kinkvember Day 9: Spanking

NMIXX Jang Kyujin x Male reader

AN: I woke up with a bit of a fever today, so I’m not quite at full power. But I’m still here and determined to keep the daily challenge going! Today's story might be a touch softer than usual and a little lighter on the smut.💖

Ugh, what’s taking him so long?

Kyujin lingered in the doorway of the garage, the warmth of the late afternoon sun pouring in around her, casting a golden halo that softened the edges of the worn tools and scattered equipment. Her gaze was steady, focused on you, as you worked intently on your motorcycle. With each turn of a bolt, each slight adjustment, you were lost in the world of mechanics, your concentration so intense that it seemed like she barely existed in your orbit.

You hadn’t noticed her yet. She leaned against the doorframe, an amused smile dancing on her lips as she bit down gently, trying to quell the impatience stirring within her. There was something maddeningly captivating about the way you worked—the steady rhythm of clinks and clanks filling the air, mingled with the occasional soft grunt of effort. These sounds formed a backdrop that only made her want you more, made her want to break your focus and pull you back to her.

Her gaze traveled over you, lingering on the way the muscles in your back flexed beneath the thin layer of your shirt, which was damp with a fine sheen of sweat. You were deeply focused, your shoulders steady as you leaned over the bike, hands skilled and precise as they moved from tool to tool. The heady scent of engine oil, gasoline, and the lingering sweetness of summer mixed in the small, enclosed space, filling her senses. It heightened everything, amplifying the awareness she had of each moment she spent watching you.

She admired your dedication, the way you could immerse yourself completely in whatever you were working on. Normally, that focus of yours was endearing, even impressive. But right now? It was a problem. She wanted your attention—needed it, actually—and the longer she stood there waiting, the more that need intensified.

Finally, she stepped further into the garage, clearing her throat softly as she called out to you, a playful lilt in her voice. “Oppaaaa, you’ve been working all daaaaay! Don’t you want a break? Spend some time with me?”

Her words filled the small space, but you barely responded, your gaze never lifting from the bike. “Almost done, Jagiya,” you murmured absently, your voice calm but distant, as if you’d hardly heard her.

Kyujin’s lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze sharpened. Almost done? You’d been telling her that for hours now, ever since you had set to work, each part needing a new adjustment, each bolt requiring the perfect amount of torque. She shifted her weight, her arms crossing over her chest as a pout began to form. Didn’t you realize she’d been waiting for you this whole time? That she was here, right now, needing you?

Taking a deep breath, she tried again, softening her voice, her tone now dripping with sweetness and affection as she cooed, “Come oooonnn, I need attention, Oppa,” her voice slipping into a soft, playful whine. “You’ve been ignoring me all day… don’t you miss me?”

There was a pause, and she thought maybe—just maybe—her words had reached you this time. But you simply hummed, nodding slightly as you replied, “I do, honey, but I need to finish this. Be patient, okay?” Your hands moved over the bike in smooth, practiced motions, your attention locked entirely on the work before you.

Her heart fell just a bit, frustration mingling with the ache of longing. Patient? She had been more than patient—she’d been watching you in silence, waiting, the entire day. She wanted you, here and now, and your request for more patience felt like a brush-off. A spark of mischief flared within her, and she felt a grin slowly forming on her lips. If you weren’t going to give her your attention willingly, maybe she’d have to take matters into her own hands.

Let’s see how much patience you really have, she thought, her gaze flicking over to the light switch on the wall beside her. You were still completely engrossed in your task, seemingly oblivious to her scheming, to the slight excitement building in her chest.

With one quick flick, she plunged the garage into darkness, watching as the warm glow of the sun instantly vanished, leaving only shadows. A soft, mischievous giggle escaped her lips as she quickly flicked the lights back on, peeking at you to catch your reaction.

Your hands froze mid-action, and your shoulders tensed slightly, but you didn’t turn around. “Honey…” Your voice was low, carrying a gentle warning that felt almost half hearted, as if you were trying to keep the focus despite her interruption.

Kyujin’s pulse quickened at the thrill of pushing you, her amusement growing as she watched you try to maintain composure. She loved testing your boundaries, nudging you until you broke from that perfect focus. And so far? You hadn’t even turned to look at her.

Alright, a wicked grin forming on her lips as she reached for the light switch again. This time, she flicked it off and let the darkness linger a bit longer, relishing the silence and the tension before snapping the lights back on. Her laughter bubbled up, louder this time, spilling into the quiet garage.

A sigh escaped you, deeper and more audible, and she watched the way your hand tightened around the wrench, your posture just a bit stiffer. “Jagiya, I’m serious,” you said, your tone firmer but not without a hint of exasperation. You still hadn’t turned around. “Don’t push me today. I need to finish this so I can get to work on Monday.”

She smirked, biting back another laugh, hearing the tension weaving its way into your voice. You were trying so hard to stay calm, so hard to keep focused on the bike, but she could see the tiny cracks forming. And the thrill of it—the way she could unravel you bit by bit—made her heart beat faster. Her gaze drifted over to your workbench, where your tools lay neatly arranged, each one in its place. An idea sparked within her, her fingers twitching with anticipation.

Her eyes landed on a small wrench at the edge of the workbench, one you’d no doubt reach for soon. Smiling slyly, she slid over to the bench, reaching out with light fingers as she gently picked up the wrench, hiding it behind her back. She moved closer, standing only a foot away from you, her heart pounding as she waited for you to notice.

And then, after a few more focused adjustments, she saw you extend your hand toward the spot where the wrench was supposed to be. Your fingers met only air, and she watched your hand hover there for a moment, realization dawning in your posture as you froze. Slowly, you turned, your eyes narrowing slightly as you finally met her gaze.

Kyujin widened her eyes in mock innocence, her lips parted just enough to suggest she knew absolutely nothing about what had happened to the wrench. The stolen tool was hidden behind her back, her fingers wrapped around it with barely contained excitement.

“Where is it?” you asked, voice calm but with an edge of authority, your eyes scrutinizing her expression.

Her heart raced, her pulse thrumming with the thrill of teasing you. Flashing her best innocent smile, she replied, “Where’s what? What are you talking about?”

You straightened up, wiping your hands on a rag as you leveled her with a steady look. “Baby,” you said, your voice lower now, laced with a quiet but unmistakable warning. “I know you. Give it back.”

Her grin widened as she felt the tension rise between you. This was her favorite moment—the way she could push you, the way you allowed her to dance right at the edge of your patience. She loved seeing that intensity flash in your eyes, knowing she had pulled you out of that work trance you always fell into. That was her magic, the power to unravel you, to bring you back to her.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied sweetly, feigning innocence as she took a small step back, keeping the wrench hidden behind her back.

Your expression shifted, a hint of frustration flickering in your gaze as you let out a slow, controlled breath. “I’m not in the mood for this,” you replied, your tone dipping to something serious, each word carrying weight. “This is your last chance. Show me what’s behind your back.”

The thrill in her chest intensified, the playful glint in her eyes sparking even brighter. She loved this—the anticipation, the way your patience was slipping, how your usual calm was fraying ever so slightly. Smiling, she took a single step forward, her movements slow and deliberate as she leaned in, raising her arm ever so slightly to reveal the wrench, but still keeping it just out of your reach.

With a challenging gaze, she murmured, “Oh, this? You need this, don’t you?” Her voice was soft, teasing, pushing you just a little more, daring you to take it from her.

The serious look in your eyes sent a shiver down Kyujin's spine, though it did nothing to deter her; instead, it only made her pulse race faster. She had you right on the edge, that threshold she loved to push past. The thrill bubbled up inside her, electric and relentless, as she took a small, teasing step back, widening her smile in silent challenge.

Come on, heart racing as she looked up at you, her gaze mischievous, what are you going to do?

You held her gaze, jaw clenching just enough for her to see your patience slipping. Taking a step forward, you spoke slowly, a deadly calm in your tone that sent a thrill down her spine. “I’m going to count to three,” you said, your voice dangerously level, each word firm and steady. “And if you don’t hand it over by then, you’re going to regret it.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, echoing like a drumbeat as she bit her lip, clutching the wrench tighter behind her back. This was the moment she’d been waiting for, the moment where your resolve would break and she’d finally see you snap. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, anticipation building like a thunderstorm. Her breaths came faster, excitement mingling with a tinge of apprehension. You were so close to breaking—so close.

“One…” you started, your gaze locked on hers, unwavering.

Her pulse quickened, breath catching as her mind raced, weighing whether to push just a little further. She felt the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins as she watched you, waiting, her heartbeat a dizzying tempo in her ears. Not yet, she thought, barely holding back a grin. Just a little more.

“Two…” The tone in your voice darkened, the tension thick enough that she felt it pressing down on her, making her body tingle with both anticipation and thrill.

Her stomach flipped as her body responded to the weight of the moment, an exhilarating thrill sparking through her as she kept her grip firm on the wrench. She wanted to see just how far she could go, to push you to the very edge before—

“Thr—”

“Okay, okay!” Kyujin laughed, pulling the wrench out from behind her back, her eyes gleaming as she flashed you a cheeky grin. “Here, happy?”

You took the wrench from her hand, your expression hard to read as you inspected it briefly. Your jaw clenched as you placed it back on the workbench with a bit more force than usual, the sound echoing through the garage. She watched you, her heart still racing, her body buzzing from the thrill of the game. She’d pushed you, teased you—but it wasn’t quite enough. She could see it in your expression: you were close, yet still holding on, your self-control just barely intact.

What will it take to finally push him over the edge?

Her gaze drifted back to the workbench, and her eyes landed on an older, more worn-looking wrench lying near the edge. Unlike the others, this one seemed different, cared for and used over the years. Curiosity pulled her in, and before she realized what she was doing, she reached out, her fingers closing around it. The metal felt cool and heavy, its weight more substantial than the others. She spun it absentmindedly between her fingers, the texture rough against her skin, as she continued to watch you, her mind still caught up in the thrill of pushing you to your limits.

Then, before she could register what was happening, the wrench slipped from her fingers.

Clank.

The metallic sound rang out sharply, filling the silence of the garage as it bounced against the hard floor. Her eyes widened in horror, her gaze shooting downward to the wrench lying at her feet. A small chip had broken off the side, the tiny piece of metal sitting on the floor beside it.

Her heart sank.

Oh no…

You went completely still, your entire posture rigid. Slowly, with an almost terrifying calm, you turned to look at her, your eyes narrowing as they landed on the damaged wrench at her feet. The weight of your gaze made her stomach drop, the realization settling heavily within her. This time, she knew she’d gone too far.

“Kyujin…” you said, voice low and controlled, a chill in your tone that made her chest tighten. You didn’t call her Jagiya now, not with the usual affection. The use of her name sent a clear message—this wasn’t a game anymore.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” she stammered, her voice trembling as her mind scrambled for words. “I didn’t know—”

You knelt down, picking up the chipped wrench with careful hands, your expression hardening as you turned it over, inspecting the damage with a cold, quiet intensity. “This was my dad’s,” you said, voice tight, each word laced with restrained emotion. “One of the few things I have left from him. And now it’s chipped because you couldn’t stop being a brat.”

The words struck her hard, guilt flooding her as the weight of what she’d done settled in. She hadn’t known how much this wrench meant to you, hadn’t realized the sentimental value it held. “Oppa, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to chip it… I didn’t know”

You cut her off with a steady, disappointed look. “I warned you,” you said, your voice flat but brimming with frustration. “I gave you all these chances, and you didn’t listen. You wanted my attention so badly? Well, now you have it.”

Before she could react, you reached out, your hand firm yet gentle as you took her wrist, guiding her toward the low bench in the corner of the garage. Her heart raced, a blend of apprehension and regret flooding her as you sat down and pulled her gently but firmly across your lap. She felt the reality of the situation settling in—she’d crossed the line, and now she was about to face the consequences.

“Oppa please, I’m sorry…” she whimpered softly, her voice fragile, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Sorry,” you replied, your tone unyielding, “that’s always what you say after you’ve gone too far. But this time, sorry isn’t enough.” With one smooth motion, you lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing her, and tugged her cute pink printed panties down to her thighs, leaving her bare and vulnerable. She squirmed slightly, but your hand pressed firmly against her lower back, holding her in place as her heart hammered in her chest. “You need to learn your lesson.”

Kyujin lay across your lap, the weight of your words sinking in as guilt and anticipation mixed within her. The lighthearted playfulness from before had vanished, replaced by a sobering awareness of just how far she had pushed you. Each breath felt heavy as she lay there, exposed and vulnerable, her mind spinning as she finally realized the full extent of what she had done.

“I… I really am sorry,” she murmured, her voice small, each word filled with remorse as she lay still, her heart racing.

Your voice was steady, firm, with a touch of kindness beneath it that somehow both reassured and unsettled her. “How many spanks do you think you deserve?” you asked, your tone calm, yet carrying an edge that made her pulse quicken.

Kyujin’s breath hitched as she considered your question, her mind a swirl of emotions. Her cheeks flushed deeply with both embarrassment and anxiety as the silence stretched between you, heightening the tension in the room. She swallowed, looking down, and then whispered, “T-Ten?” Her voice was small, uncertain, as she glanced at you, silently hoping that her answer might soften your resolve.

But you shook your head slowly, letting out a low chuckle that sent a shiver down her spine. “Too low,” you replied, your tone almost teasing, yet leaving no room for negotiation. “Let’s double it. You deserve twenty, and you’re going to count every single one.”

The words settled over her, heavy and electrifying, as anticipation twisted her stomach into tight knots. Twenty. Her breaths came quicker, an intoxicating mix of apprehension and excitement building within her. The gravity of what lay ahead sank in, yet beneath the tension, a thrill pulsed through her, unmistakable and undeniable.

Without further preamble, you delivered the first spank—a sharp, stinging impact that shot through her like a lightning bolt. The suddenness of it stole her breath, and the hot sting radiated through her cheeks, the heat blooming beneath your hand. “O-One,” she gasped, her voice shaky, each syllable carrying the echo of the slap that lingered on her skin, flooding her senses.

You didn’t hesitate, bringing down a second spank, harder than the first. “Two,” she whimpered, the sting intensifying, an electric heat that made her squirm involuntarily, her body’s reaction beyond her control. The pain built, sharpened, sending a fiery ache through her, a throbbing warmth settling deep within her.

Another spank landed, this time on her opposite cheek, sending a fresh wave of stinging heat through her body. “T-Three… I’m sorry” she breathed out, her heart racing as the sensation spread, igniting her nerves. Her apology came almost on instinct, the words spilling from her lips as the intensity left her more vulnerable with each passing second.

The rhythm continued, a steady and unyielding cadence that grew with each strike, each spank bringing her closer to the edge. As she counted up to “Ten,” her voice came in breathless gasps, each number growing softer as her body arched against the sting, a mixture of pain and something more primal beginning to settle within her. The sensations blurred, the pain mingling with a strange sense of exhilaration, her breaths quick and shallow as her skin flushed hot.

With each spank, her awareness sharpened, the heat between her legs building in a slow, undeniable ache that surprised her. By the time she reached “Fifteen,” her body trembled with need, her entire being caught in the edge of pain and an unexpected, growing desire. Each strike seemed to deepen the ache within her, intensifying until it was impossible to ignore.

“Eighteen,” Kyujin whimpered, her voice filled with a mix of embarrassment and something deeper as her body tensed under your hand. The ache between her thighs was undeniable, and the warmth on her reddened skin only seemed to amplify it. She lay folded across your lap, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts, as she bit her lip, trying to steady herself.

You let your hand linger, hovering above her flushed cheeks as you shifted, drawing out the anticipation. Then, with a teasing touch, you let your fingers brush over her core, feeling the warmth radiating from her. Kyujin’s breath hitched as your fingers skimmed over her wetness, and you murmured softly, “You’re soaked. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

A wave of embarrassment washed over her, her cheeks turning crimson as she shifted under your hand. She swallowed, then whispered, “Please… can you touch me?” Her voice was soft, almost pleading.

You raised an eyebrow, considering her carefully before giving her an answer. “Only if you can handle five more,” you replied, your tone both calm and challenging.

Kyujin hesitated, her body tensing as she considered, but the need inside her was too strong to resist. Finally, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes… I can take it.”

Without further delay, you delivered the nineteenth spank, the sharp sound filling the room as her body arched forward with a soft gasp. She whispered the number under her breath, her voice quivering as she counted, bracing herself. Each smack that followed left her trembling, her grip on the edge of the chair tightening.

“Twenty,” she breathed, her voice almost breaking as she melted into the sensation. You allowed your hand to linger, gently tracing along her tender skin, before resuming with a steady, controlled pace. Her body rocked slightly with each spank, her soft gasps punctuating the silence.

You allowed a momentary caress, just enough to keep her yearning, then raised your hand once more. “Twenty-one,” you counted, your hand connecting with her skin as her body jerked forward. Her breath hitched, the sensation sending a fresh wave of need through her.

“twenty-three…” Each word grew softer, her voice barely above a whisper, her resolve melting under your unrelenting touch.

When the final count, “Twenty-five,” fell from her lips, her body seemed to go limp, her breathing uneven as she lay across your lap, completely vulnerable. You gave her a moment, letting the silence stretch as she caught her breath, her muscles slowly relaxing.

Then, as she lay there, she looked back over her shoulder, her voice soft. “I… I’m sorry about the wrench,” she murmured, her tone filled with genuine regret. “I didn’t know it was so important.” She hesitated, her cheeks flushed as the regret in her voice was unmistakable.

Instead of answering, you slipped one finger along her folds, feeling her warmth and wetness as you pressed forward gently. Kyujin gasped, her hips instinctively pressing back into your touch. You maintained a steady, gentle rhythm, letting her feel every deliberate stroke as her body began to respond. Her breaths came in soft, shallow pants, and her fingers clutched at your leg, anchoring herself.

“Oh… ah…” she gasped softly, her voice trembling as she whispered, “Thank you…” Her body pressed back to meet each slow movement, her hips shifting as you continued, each gentle thrust pulling her deeper into the moment. You could feel her relax and tense with each stroke, her body melting into the rhythm you set.

As her breaths turned into soft, needy moans, you kept up the slow, careful pace, her body responding to each precise movement. Her hips rocked gently, each motion matching your touch as she surrendered completely to the feeling. You could feel her grip tighten on your thigh, her fingers digging in as her voice turned to soft, breathy whispers. “Please… don’t stop,” she whimpered, her words almost lost in her shallow breathing.

After a few minutes, you introduced a second finger, pressing deeper as her body adjusted. Her response was immediate—a soft, broken cry escaped her as her hips shifted instinctively, her body fully giving in. “Oh…” she gasped, her voice raw with desire as you pressed further, finding a slow, steady rhythm that matched her every breath. She melted into each careful thrust, her breaths growing louder as her hands clung tightly to your leg, her body rocking over your lap with each deliberate movement.

“Ah… yes…” she moaned, her voice breathless as she matched your pace, her hips moving in perfect sync. Her body seemed to come alive, every small movement intensifying the need building inside her. You maintained a calm, unhurried rhythm, drawing her closer and closer, her breathing quickening as her moans turned to desperate, trembling whimpers.

Sensing she was on the edge, you leaned down, your voice soft near her ear. “Hold on to me,” you murmured, letting her know she could fully let go. Her grip tightened around your thigh, her body tensing as she clung to you, her muscles tight with anticipation.

Then, as she reached her breaking point, you gave her a quick smack across her tender cheek, the jolt making her gasp, her body shuddering in response. Without pausing, you gave a gentle but firm pinch to her clit, increasing the intensity as you delivered one last, firm smack.

Kyujin’s entire body arched as the climax overtook her, a raw, breathless scream escaping her lips as the waves of release washed over her. She quivered uncontrollably, her legs shaking as she rode the intensity, her fingers clinging to your thigh with a fierce grip, holding on as the pleasure pulsed through her, her voice breaking into soft, gasping cries. Her entire body shuddered, each wave leaving her breathless until, finally, she collapsed, her body going slack as the sensations ebbed.

With a gentleness that surprised her, you began to caress her tender cheeks, ”Such a good girl” you coo, the words soft and affectionate with your touch soothing the ache as you carefully pulled her panties back up and lifted her off your lap. Her legs were shaky, her body still buzzing with need, as she clung to you, her head nestled against your shoulder as you led her slowly to the bedroom.

Once there, you laid her down carefully on her stomach, your hands supporting her as her heart rate slowly began to settle. You lifted her skirt again, her breath catching as she felt the cool air against her heated skin, a shiver running through her at the sharp contrast. She tensed, expecting another touch, another swat, but instead, your hand rested softly on her back, grounding her.

You leaned down, your lips trailing soft, featherlight kisses along her red, sensitive skin, each touch a gentle balm for the stinging heat that lingered. Slowly, you pressed tender kisses across her cheeks, each one a silent apology, a reassurance for the discomfort she had felt. Your lips moved down, tracing over her thighs, lingering where her skin was still warm, before trailing up along her back, leaving a path of warmth that melted away the ache. As you reached her neck, you pressed a gentle kiss, pausing there as if grounding her with your presence.

Kyujin shivered beneath your touch, her breath catching with each kiss as she felt you move over her. The warmth of your kisses soothed her, easing away the ache that had built in her body. Though the arousal still simmered within her, your touch began to calm the frustration she’d felt, replacing it with a comforting warmth. Each kiss seemed to melt away the remaining tension, coaxing her into a soft, quiet relief.

You pulled back slightly, your voice a low murmur as you said, “I’ll be right back,” and moved to stand. But as you took a step, Kyujin’s hand reached out, her fingers clutching softly, almost desperately, at your arm. “Wait, stop,” she whispered, her voice fragile, a hint of fear threading through her words. “Please don’t go…”

You turned back instantly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, the warmth of your lips a gentle reassurance. “I’ll be right back, baby,” you murmured softly. “Just getting the lotion.”

Kyujin nodded slowly, her fingers relaxing as you spoke, feeling a warmth spread through her at hearing you call her “baby” again. It softened her, brought her back to a sense of comfort, and she watched you leave the room, her heart still racing but now pulsing with a softer, calmer beat.

When you returned, you settled beside her, pouring a small amount of lotion into your hands and rubbing them together to warm it before reaching toward her. As your hands gently applied the lotion to her sore cheeks, she felt an initial sting, the cool lotion biting against her heated skin, but it quickly shifted to relief. She let out a soft sigh as you carefully massaged the lotion into her, your hands moving in slow, tender circles that soothed and relaxed her.

With every stroke of your fingers against her skin, she felt herself melting deeper into the bed, the lingering tension and ache gradually easing away as you continued to massage her cheeks with thoughtful care. Your touch was tender, each movement slow and purposeful, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink fully into the moment, the warmth of your hands grounding her. Her body relaxed, the warmth of your hands dissipating the residual sting as she sighed softly, her entire being unwinding under your touch.

When you finished, you lay down beside her, gathering her into your arms and pulling her close. She nestled against you, her head resting on your chest, her legs entwined with yours, the comfort of your embrace replacing the lingering soreness with a deep sense of peace. The warmth of your body against hers soothed her, your presence surrounding her like a protective shield that let her finally relax.

“Oppa, I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she looked up at you, eyes full of sincerity. “I wasn’t thinking... I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You kissed the top of her head gently, letting your hand stroke through her hair with a reassuring touch. “I know, Jagiya,” you murmured softly, each word brimming with understanding. “It’s okay. I forgave you. We’re done with that now.”

She blinked, her eyes beginning to tear up, the weight of guilt still heavy in her chest. “But… it was your dad’s,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she thought of how much that wrench had meant to you. “I’m so, so sorry…”

Noticing the tears pooling in her eyes, you gently cupped her face, your thumb brushing away the tears as they fell, each touch soft and full of care. “Shh, baby,” you whispered, pressing a series of gentle kisses across her cheeks, her forehead, and her lips. “It’s okay, don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? I know you didn’t mean it.”

Kyujin took a shaky breath, feeling the tightness of guilt in her chest slowly ease as your comforting words settled over her. She nuzzled closer, burying her face against your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart beneath her cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispered, her voice soft and brimming with affection, each word carrying the relief that your forgiveness had brought her.

You wrapped your arms around her tighter, your voice a soothing murmur as you replied, “No matter what happens, I’ll always take care of you.” You let your hands stroke down her back, your gentle embrace surrounding her, creating a space of warmth and safety.

They lay there together, wrapped in a quiet intimacy that soothed every frayed edge of the evening. The tension and pain faded away, replaced by the comfort of your presence, the feel of your warmth wrapping around her. Exhaustion crept up slowly, the weight of the day settling over her as her eyes grew heavy, her breathing slowing as she felt your steady heartbeat beneath her. Gradually, she drifted off to sleep in your arms, feeling safe, loved, and completely forgiven, a peaceful smile softening her features as she relaxed fully into your embrace.

The next morning, Kyujin awoke to the soft light of dawn streaming gently through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. She stirred slowly, feeling the tender throb that lingered as a soft reminder of the night before. Every small movement brought an ache, but the warmth and comfort of knowing things were right between them filled her with peace.

Turning carefully, she found herself face-to-face with you, your arm still wrapped around her waist. You were fast asleep, chest rising and falling steadily, each breath soft against her skin. She gazed at you, her face softened in the peaceful quiet of sleep, and a gentle smile tugged at her lips. Brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead, she leaned in, pressing a tiny, featherlight kiss there.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, feeling her heart flutter. Then, barely resisting a giggle, she leaned in again, pressing another soft kiss to your cheek, nose and another just above your brow. Each kiss was a gentle attempt to wake, a playful way of pulling you from your dreams.

After a moment, you feel Kyujin's soft kisses, feather-light on your face, and slowly your eyes flutter open. A warm, sleepy smile forms on your lips as you take her in, a quiet chuckle escaping you. “Good morning,” you murmur, your voice husky with sleep, gaze full of affection as you look at her.

Kyujin beams, pleased with herself, a sparkle of delight in her eyes. “Good morning,” she whispers back, snuggling closer to you, her warmth melting into yours as you instinctively tighten your arm around her, pulling her even closer.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, your voice still heavy with sleep as you gently hold Kyujin close.

She winces slightly as she stretches, the soreness from the night before apparent, but she meets your gaze, her voice soft. “Sore… but okay.”

A quiet chuckle escapes you as you pull her close to your chest. “You were brave last night,” you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

Your words bring a warm glow to her cheeks, and you feel her nuzzle even closer, a sense of safety and love filling the quiet space between you. But as you start to sit up, she lets out a small sound of discomfort, instinctively reaching out, her fingers grasping onto you.

“Don’t leave…” she mumbles, her voice soft, as she clings to you, making it clear she wants to stay close.

You laugh gently, lifting her effortlessly into your arms and holding her tight. You kiss the top of her head, your hand stroking her back in slow, soothing motions. “Alright, baby,” you say, a playful note in your voice, “how about we make breakfast together?”

Her legs wrap around your waist, her arms resting around your shoulders as you carry her out of bed. She sighs softly, contented, her head settling on your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen. Once there, you try to set her down on a chair, but her grip tightens, and she shakes her head with a soft, stubborn whine.

“C’mon, baby,” you tease, smiling as you glance down at her. “I have to make breakfast.”

“Stay with me,” she murmurs, pressing closer, unwilling to let go.

You chuckle warmly, giving in as you move around the kitchen, her arms still wrapped around you. “Toast or cereal?” you ask, looking down with a smile.

“Toast, please,” she replies, shifting slightly and wincing as she adjusts to the soreness.

You slide two slices of bread into the toaster, then wrap your arms around her waist, holding her close. Your hands move in soothing circles along her back, slipping down to massage her gently. She lets out a quiet whimper, relaxing into you and wrapping her arms more snugly around your neck.

She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then trails another along your jawline, her lips brushing against your skin with a warmth that lingers. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispers, her voice full of warmth.

You soften, meeting her gaze with affection before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Always, my love,” you murmur. “It’s my favorite thing to do.”

A smile lights her face as she rests her head on your shoulder, her fingers tracing gentle patterns along your neck and through your hair. When the toast pops, you quickly butter each slice and hand one to her. She takes a bite, savoring the warmth as she stays nestled against you. Every so often, she leans in to press a kiss to your cheek or nuzzle your neck, her soft smile matching yours as you share the quiet moment.

You chuckle, rubbing slow, comforting circles on her back as you tease, “You’re clingy this morning.”

She giggles, taking another bite before leaning in again to kiss your cheek. “I just don’t want you to leave,” she whispers playfully, her voice soft.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead as you hold her close, the warmth between you as comforting as the morning light filtering in around you.

After breakfast, you stand up from your chair with Kyujin still in your arms. You begin carrying her to the bathroom as she nestles against you, her head resting gently on your shoulder. Inside, you set her down and start the bath, testing the temperature until it’s perfectly warm—just right to ease the ache in her muscles. You glance over at her, meeting her eyes as you begin to help her undress, your touch lingering on each piece, slow and gentle. She watches you quietly, her gaze soft but thoughtful, as if there’s something she’s been holding back.

Once she’s undressed, you guide her into the bath, lowering her carefully into the warm water. She releases a sigh, her body sinking into the soothing heat. The calm stillness in the room is almost palpable, broken only by the occasional gentle splash of water as you pour a cup over her shoulders, letting it cascade down her back. She stays quiet, watching you intently, and you notice the slight crease in her brow, the way her lips press together as if deep in thought. With each tender motion, you sense her hesitation growing, as if she’s contemplating something she’s not quite ready to voice.

You reach for the shampoo, pouring a small amount into your hands and working it into her hair, your fingers moving in slow, comforting circles along her scalp. Kyujin’s eyes close, and she leans into your touch, each gentle press of your fingertips lulling her into relaxation. But still, that quiet tension lingers in the way she holds herself, a shadow that hasn’t fully eased.

As you massage the shampoo through her hair, her breaths deepen, but she doesn’t speak, her expression softening and her shoulders relaxing under your hands. You lean over, dipping the cup into the water and preparing to rinse, but you can’t ignore the way her eyes flicker, as if a weight is pressing on her heart.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a murmur, your hands still gentle in her hair.

She hesitates, her lashes fluttering before she looks away, her voice almost a whisper. “I… I feel like you forgave me too soon.”

You pause, the water warm against your hands as you take in her words. She glances down, her expression clouded, her fingers tracing the water’s surface as if searching for the right way to explain. “I was careless. I didn’t think… about what the wrench could mean to you,” she murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I really didn't mean to Opaa...”

Your hands rest in her hair for a beat, then slowly you tip her chin up with gentle fingers, meeting her gaze. “Jagiya” you murmur, your eyes soft, “I forgave you because I know it was a mistake. You didn’t mean to hurt me, and you regret it. That’s all that matters to me.”

She looks away, her cheeks warming under your gaze, guilt flickering across her features. “But it was important to you,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “I should have been more careful… You deserved more time to be mad. I just… don’t want to hurt you again.”

With the cup still in hand, you brush your thumb over her cheek, letting her feel the warmth of your touch as you cradle her face. “We all make mistakes, Jagiya,” you say gently, your voice a steady reassurance. “You’ve already shown me how much you care. That’s all I need to know.”

Her eyes well up as she leans into your touch, her shoulders easing as if a weight has finally lifted. She looks at you, her voice breaking softly. “Thank you for being so patient with me… even when I don’t deserve it.”

You smile softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. As you continue rinsing the shampoo from her hair, you press a tender kiss to her forehead, letting her know, without words, that she’s understood and forgiven.

“You deserve all the care I can give,” you murmur, your voice filled with quiet reassurance. You rest your hand on her cheek, brushing a thumb along her damp skin, letting her feel the warmth and steadiness in your touch. Her eyes close, leaning into the comfort you offer, each gentle stroke dispelling her lingering worries. As you rinse the last of the shampoo from her hair, her expression softens, tension melting away as she takes a deep, steadying breath.

In that moment, you hold her gaze, letting her see the depth of your patience and the unreserved love reflected there. The weight she’d been carrying seems to dissolve, replaced by a sense of safety and acceptance that surrounds her like the warmth of the bath. She reaches up, placing her hand over yours, and as you stay there, quiet and close, she knows, fully, that she is forgiven and loved beyond measure.

[3igbootyl0ver]

A New Face

pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

summary: where the group of friends meet Chad's new roommate.

word count: 1737

pt.2

a/n: heyyyyy this is my first ever fic I've written, don't mind it being cringy and I'm open to feedback teehee hope ya'll enjoy (p.s I'm new to this whole Tumblr thing cut me some slack 😭)

Chad has been trying to convince the core four to hangout at his apartment. He had been feeling lonely recently since Mindy and Anika had recently moved in together. 

It took him a few weeks to finally convince them into hanging out at his apartment. With Sam’s paranoia and busy work schedule, and the heavy workload for Tara,Mindy, and Anika in college, they were finally able to make the time and hangout. Plus, they could use a new scenery besides the Carpenter’s apartment, right?

That particular day they were supposed to meet up at Chad’s apartment, Tara was feeling under the weather, her finals for her college exam was killing her; And all she wanted to do was eat some greasy dough with sauce and meat while watching scary movies. 

“Hey guys! Come in, the pizza is getting delivered soon.” Chad exclaimed while hopping on his toes, feeling ecstatic since he hadn’t met them for a while. 

“What’s with you? you’re acting like a kid, dude.” Mindy commented, noticing her twin brothers’ gleamed faced and excitement. 

“Sorry, I’ve been lonely and I’m just glad we’re all together again. THE CORE FOUR! And Anika, of course.” 

“Didn’t you put up an online ad for a roommate? Where are they?”

“You don’t learn, do you?” Sam added, frowning with Chad’s method of calling in someone to fill in the extra room. 

Chad abashedly chuckled, and lowered his head, his cheeks burning up from embarrassment. It was Sam, who wouldn’t be scared?

“My roommate is cool! They’re out for work and should be here soon. They’re not a psychotic serial killer, I promise.”

Sam was skeptical, rightfully so. Meanwhile, Tara was sat on the couch, with her legs on the coffee table while scrolling through the tv to find a movie to watch. She couldn’t bother joining in on the conversation. She felt mentally exhausted from her exams and just wanted a day’s rest. 

After a while, the group was playing card games while eating their pizzas and watching movies. 

“That’s not fair Mindy! Stop giving me all the +4 cards!” Tara shrieked, feeling frustrated after getting the card that made her double the number of cards she had at least 4 times, making her chances of winning low.

“Whatever you big baby. Just admit that you suck in uno,” Mindy responded, smirking triumphantly while raising her voice

Tara rolled her eyes, not accepting her defeat and continued arguing with Mindy, with the rest watching amused by the entertainment. Unsurprisingly , Tara lost after Mindy getting rid of her cards before her. She couldn’t get rid of her cards with the suspicious amounts of +4 cards Mindy had. 

“Uno! Looks like I win, LOSER!”

“How about I shove this uno cards up your a-“

Tara’s reply was interrupted by the front door opening, revealing you carrying your backpack on your shoulders and your motorcycle helmet hanging off your hand (which peaked Tara’s interest, of course.) You looked tired, with dark circles under your eye, wearing your hoodie and sweatpants. 

Even so, Tara still thought you were the most beautiful human being she had ever seen. She was practically having heart eyes and drooling at this point, with Mindy noticing her stare and grinning cheekily. 

“What’s up dude. Tough day at work?” Chad commented, trying to create a conversation. 

“You know it, man” you softly chuckled while locking the door. 

“Anyways, my friends are gonna be here for a while. I hope you don’t mind,”

“Not at all, I’m probably just going to take a nap anyways,” you replied, finally looking at the group of people staring you. 

Mindy gave you a nod, already knowing who you were from her brother. Anika smiled and waved at you, which you responded by giving a soft smile back. Sam was staring you down, which made you uncomfortable and creeped out but ignored her action. Tara was well, staring at you? But not how Sam stared at you, she had a blank look on her face. 

Once you left and went into the hallway to your room, Mindy decided make a certain Carpenter’s life a living hell. 

“Tara, are you blushing right now? I didn’t know you had a type” she teased

“Shut up, Mindy. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You guys don’t find her suspicious? Seriously?” Sam commented, wondering why they weren’t skeptical like they usually were when there was new people around. 

It wasn’t new, after the incident of Ghostface, they all had their guards up, scared to open up to new people, to new faces. 

“They’re nice, I promise. How about I call them out so you guys can get to know them? They’re Y/N, by the way” Chad suggested, trying to convince them (especially Sam) to get to know you better before jumping into conclusions that you were a serial killer. 

All of them collectively agreed, with Tara nodding with a slight tint on her cheeks. Chad went up to your room and called you out, suggesting that you should hang out with them. Tara assumed it went well, as Chad grinned toothily and walked away. 

You’ve really peaked her interest. She didn’t know she had a type. The people she had dated before didn’t really cast a spark on her.  She didn’t feel happy or enjoyed her time during those relationships. It felt like she was the problem, however the thought was down the drain after going to a few therapy sessions with Sam after the Ghostface incident. Through the sessions, Tara found out that she didn’t feel happy through the lack of trust and being paranoid that her partner would be a killer. That’s understandable, it’s not everyday that your (ex) girlfriend tries to murder you. 

However after seeing you for 10 seconds, her mind was clouded by you. She noticed that you were as tall as Chad and probably plays sports too, based on your physique. All she thought of was finding out more about you.  Do you study in Blackmore? What bike do you own? Do you prefer cats or dogs? Did you find her cute?

‘Come on, Tara. Get it together.’ She reminded herself  after that embarrassing thought. 

When she saw you come out with the same sweatpants, but with a black t-shirt that showed off your arm sleeve tattoo on your left arm, she was practically drooling. You looked hot as fuck. 

“Hey guys, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N”

“I’m Tara,” she quickly replied, seeing Mindy and Anika grinning at each other with a knowing look from her peripheral vision. 

You gave a smile. You looked cute. You had that cute ass dimples no one could ever resist, Tara thought. You might be the death of her. 

The group settled down and decided to watch a movie, you sat the end of the couch while waiting for the movie to start. Mindy, being an (alleged) amazing wingman she is, literally forced Tara into sitting beside you by pushing her. She sat on the couch with a sigh, annoyed at Mindy’s antics and rolled her eyes. Sam was just giggling at the other side of the couch. 

As much as Sam didn’t trust you, she was glad that Tara could act like a normal teenager again. After multiple therapy sessions, she gave Tara a little bit of more freedom and let her make her own decisions, even if it’s distasteful to her. That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t tase someone in the balls again, though. 

You mistakenly thought the sigh Tara gave out was because she had to sit beside you. You had known about what happened to their group from Chad, after he poured his heart out when he was blackout drunk. You understood the group of friends can be lack trust and be suspicious of new people. 

“Sorry, did you want to sit with someone else? I can sit on the floor if you want-“

“No! I mean it’s okay, I don’t mind sitting with you,” Tara replied with a heavy tint on her cheeks, embarrassed at her sudden reaction. 

Throughout the movie, you were munching on your pizza, oblivious to the amount of times Tara took glances at you while trying to think of topics to create a conversation with you. 

“So..How do you find the movie?” Tara questioned you, trying to get to know you a little bit better. 

“It’s alright, though I prefer other scary movies. I definitely do have favourites.”

“Oh, what’s your favourite horror film?”

“I absolutely love The Babadook, it’s amazing because I..” Any words that you uttered out of that beautiful mouth of yours disappeared. The universe must be sending a sign, she needs you badly. There’s no way Chad’s super cute, hot roommate would coincidentally like The Babadook, Tara thought 

“Blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff..” was all she could hear. 

You on the other hand, only saw Tara staring at you blankly while she had her own inner turmoil and crisis.

“Uh, Tara..? You alright there?” you chuckled awkwardly.

“What? Oh, yeah sorry. I love The Babadook too! What’s your favourite scene?” Tara smoothly taught of a way to continue the conversation, silently cheering for herself. 

It took you both 2 horror films and a shared bag of popcorn to exchange numbers. Tara was secretly cheering in ecstasy of course. She would’ve jumped around and start dancing if she could. It was already close to midnight, and Sam decided that they should go back home before it’s too late to catch the last train.  Tara was devastated, she wished that she could’ve spent more time with you. 

“Soo, I’ll see you next time then? It was nice seeing you.” You initiated a conversation, seeing that Tara was pouting at Sam while trying to convince her into staying a little while longer

“Y-Yeah, see you. We should continue our horror fanatic activities again,” She chuckled, trying to prolong the moment. You nodded your head, giving her a soft smile while leading her, Sam, and the couple out of the apartment, since Chad was knocked out and asleep.

You took your last goodbyes with the group, even giving Sam a small wave, before closing the door. 

In the elevator, all Anika, Mindy and even Sam did was tease her on how red and lovestruck she looked. She didn’t pay any mind to it, all she could ever think of was you. 

[delilahsturniolo]

i love you, i’m sorry

— m.s

in which . . . matt accidentally confesses something he shouldn’t have in the heat of an argument.

genre/trope . . . enemies to lovers, angst. (resolved)

warnings . . . arguing, kissing & more.

written by . . . @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or re use my works. do not take inspiration without asking permission first. happy reading! :)

“lay on the horn to prove that it haunts me.”

“i love you i’m sorry.”

you and matt have known each other your entire lives, which was unfortunate for the both of you. you may be asking yourself, if you’ve known each other for so long shouldn’t you be best friends?

well, it was quite the opposite actually. you and matt have hated each other for whatever reason, it was a rivalry between you two. you guys couldn’t even be in the same room without bickering, when your family and matt’s family hung out it was absolute hell for you.

all you wanted was to avoid matt at all costs, no matter the circumstances. however, you always got along with matt’s brothers.

you and matt never had a reason to hate each other, in fact you tried being nice to him sometimes. you both just never got along, bickering and complaining about each other 24/7. if you got a dollar for how much you both piss each other off everyday, you’d be filthy rich.

but, matt wasn’t a complete jerk. he didn’t completely despise you, sometimes he held the door open for you. other times, he would slam it shut in your face. matt absolutely adored teasing you, and doing small gestures just to make you annoyed at him. that was something he never failed at.

you had sort of a mixed and unsure feeling about matt. you were confused, you didn’t know how he felt about you. did he hate you, or not? even better question, did you truly hate him?

yes, of course you did. you were supposed to, you can’t love him. but…you felt something different over the past few weeks. as much as you hated to admit it, nowadays you didn’t mind his presence. just a few months ago, you’d rather get hit by a bus than be near him. but other days, he pissed you off more than anything. you hated him…but you didn’t at the same time.

you didn’t know what this feeling was, it made you sick. falling for your childhood enemy? it was impossible, it couldn’t happen. you hated it, you couldn’t make it stop. all you could do was push down your true feelings, and keep pretending.

so now here you were, in the present. it was pretty late in the night. you were at the triplets house, in the kitchen. nick was out for a space camp photoshoot, while chris was sleeping in his room.

you leaned against the counter, scrolling mindlessly on your phone as you popped a potato chip in your mouth, feeling the salty sensation sink on your tongue. quietly humming to yourself, you took in the peaceful silence. that is, until you heard the front door open.

matt walked in the house, going right into the kitchen. he huffed as he saw you, rolling his eyes. you bit your lip, not even acknowledging him.

matt walked over to the counter, shoving you over with his body so he could get by. you grunted, your phone clattering to the floor.

“dude, can you not?” you scoffed, pissed off as you picked your phone up from the floor. matt turned on the sink, beginning to wash the dishes.

“can you not with the attitude?” matt mocked you, not even batting you an eye. usually you would just flip him off and leave, but you didn’t this time. you wanted to confront him, show him that you weren’t a pussy.

to the both of you, arguing was a competition. you would just keep going on and on until one of you backed down, and usually it would be you. however, not this time.

“i don’t have a fucking attitude.” you crossed your arms, the back of his head facing you as he aggressively scrubbed a plate. you were testing his limits, and you found pleasure in that.

“whatever floats your boat.” matt shrugged, laughing to himself. “do you always have to be so annoying?” he continued, which only provoked you more.

you rolled your eyes and sealed the bag of chips shut. “do you always have to be so mean to me all the time?” you shot back at him. matt turned off the sink water, wiping his hands before turning around to face you. “i’m not mean, sweetheart. come on, is that all you got?” matt teased you, knowing it would make you annoyed.

“shut up!” you raised your voice at him slightly, making him scoff in disbelief.

“what the fuck is your problem?” matt raised his voice back at you, you weren’t in the mood for this right now. your frustration was building up by every passing second.

“you, matt! you’re my problem!” you shouted back at him.

“my fucking goodness, y/n. you’re always starting shit, aren’t you?” matt complained, throwing his hands up in the frustration. you simply said nothing.

“what? cat got your tongue?” matt darkly chuckled. you rolled your eyes, starting to walk away. matt only followed after you.

you stomped outside into the driveway, it was the dead of night. you suddenly felt matt grab your arm, turning you around to face him.

“let me go, matt.” you spoke fiercely, trying to yank away from him. his grip only grew tighter, he completely ignored your protests.

“y/n, stop it. listen to me.” matt told you, you only shook your head.

“get away from me, matt. i hate you.” you remarked, matt shook his head. “no you don’t.” he pulled you closer.

the cold wind blew in your hair, matt’s eyes pierced into yours. “what are you talking about?” you questioned him.

“you don’t hate me.” matt shrugged, you weren’t even trying to pull away from him anymore. something was drawing you to him, and you didn’t mind it for once.

“yes i do! you don’t care about me!” you argued back, matt completely snapped at you.

“of course i care, y/n! how could i not care? i care more than anything in the world.” he shouted.

“since when did you start caring about me!?” you scoffed in disbelief.

“since fucking forever, you idiot!”

and those exact words, the moment they came out of his mouth silenced you. which by the way, was a rare occurrence. your lips parted slightly. “what?” you murmured.

matt let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i love you, okay? i love you so fucking much, goddamnit! i’m sorry i fell in love, i can’t do shit about it and…i didn’t want it to happen, y/n.” matt blurted out. what? this was the absolute last thing you were expecting.

“you…what?” you spoke softly. your mind was racing with a million thoughts at once. matt was in love with you? your heart began to beat faster as you looked into his eyes.

“you think i wanted this to happen? trust me, i’m just as confused as you.” matt’s voice broke. you both stood across from each other, goosebumps raising onto your arms.

“i love you too, matt.” you whispered. matt’s gaze immediately softened.

“but…the thing is i can’t. i can’t love you. it won’t work out. we can’t be together and you know that.” you muttered, looking away from him as you said that.

“you don’t get it. it’s not that easy to lose feelings for you, if i could i would. i can’t lose feelings for someone i’ve loved for so fucking long.” matt’s voice came out shaky as he expressed all of his emotions.

you sighed, stepping closer to him. he looked down at you, his eyes growing glossy. your hand traveled up his chest and to the side of his neck, matt’s breath hitched at this action.

before he even knew what was going on, you leaned in, pulling him in for a kiss.

both of your lips connected, your heart felt full, as if you had been needing this your entire life. matt groaned against your lips as the kiss grew more and more passionate, more hungry.

you both wanted this badly, you craved each other more than anything. this felt so wrong in your brain, but yet so fucking right in your heart.

matt’s hands gripped your waist tightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips continued to dance with his, you felt his soft and supple lips crash against yours once more.

matt pulled away from the kiss, not letting go of you though. you looked up at him, a smirk creeping up on your face.

“mmm..you’re not so bad after all.” matt hummed, his finger lifing your chin up with dominance.

“i’m gonna murder you, sturniolo.” you teased, matt only chuckled, his hand moving to your cheek, caressing the skin gently.

“you wouldn’t.” matt smiled down at you, before leaning into your face once more, his lips colliding with yours again.

maybe loving him wasn’t so bad after all.

© delilahsturniolo

join the taglist here! ✉️

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

Ok I’ve seen some doomerism post-election that has clearly lost touch with all reality but this is next-level. If you’re thinking this way:

1) breathe.

2) go get some sunlight and maybe talk to a human being offline and/or not about Trump

3) step away from the go bags and emergency plans, because I guarantee you that whatever you are packing and planning in that state of mind isn’t actually going to be what you need if/when you need it. He doesn’t come into office until January. You can do this tomorrow or next week, once you’ve taken care of yourself. You can’t prepare for anything if you’re spiraling this badly.

4) breathe.

5) there will be history books. I know this because there have been kingdoms, and dictatorships, and empires where accurate literature was outlawed. They all fell eventually, and we know about them because someone somewhere wrote them down.

6) Even if you or I or we don’t survive this, if there are people still left in the world this history will be told and remembered. If there aren’t people left in the world, our stories will still be visible on pages and in photos, even if there’s nobody to remember. The concept of recorded information is not going to disappear. Our records will outlast us in the end.

7) if you are so worried about there being no histories, no truth, no stories left from those who are impacted, then I want you to pick up a notebook or piece of paper or napkin, or open a word document if you know a place (like a public library or school) that offers free printing services. Write now, write later, write what’s happening, copy and paste screenshots from social media, and hell copy/paste whole news articles, and print them. Write in class, write at work if you can, write before bed and when you wake up. This is how stories survive when they’re illegal. Take your pages and notebooks and printouts and put them in something watertight and secure, that you can carry with you, or give them to a trusted person with a house and bury them in old clothes, or make a time capsule. If you are afraid of the history of this time disappearing, it is in your power to change that.

8) or don’t. You don’t have to do it now, or this week, or this month. It’s something you can do, not something you have to do. Do it if it makes you feel better. Do it if it makes you worry less. Do it if it makes you feel powerful. You can also write or draw about things utterly irrelevant. It’s still your voice. Otherwise? Rest, be kind to yourself now.

9) breathe.

[transmutationisms]

I want you to give Mohammed Khalil @ahmed-0-khalil and his family a bit of your time. Mohammed is only 19, but he has to work incredibly hard to get donations just for his family to survive.

Most of the Khalil family is disabled. Mohammed’s leg was seriously injured due to bombing. His father is diabetic. One of Mohammed’s brothers is blind and has coronary heart disease, while another is blind and autistic. His youngest brother Ahmed is only 6 years old, and instead of playing and starting school, he is enduring a war. The whole Khalil family has lived through unimaginable trauma this past year.

Right now, all the food they have to eat is spoiled rice and flour filled with weevils. They struggle to purchase more food, as the markets are nearly empty, and whenever they try to withdraw money, they lose 30% of what they try to withdraw to gofundme and transfer fees.

Please, share and donate whatever you can. If you care about kids, about disabled people, about human life all, you should care that this family survives. Don’t let them starve.

Shared here by @/90-ghost and #77 on the @/gazavetters list

Donate here

€13,951 / €50,000

[endcant]

i’d find it really relatable. i do this to people fairly often bc i’m awful at remembering names. if anybody else has this problem and can’t think of a good approach, here’s some things i’ve tried:

if i catch two people standing together whose names i should know but i don’t, i inform them that i am SO Bad At Names that i don’t remember either of their names even though they both know me. it just makes for a better social situation to not single anybody out. one time both people decided to come up with a mnemonic that helped me remember both of their names and it worked well. i might try to do that when i’m introduced to groups in the future

sometimes i’ll ask for peoples’ contact info and then hand them my phone with no information added and they fill in whatever they think i ought to know

sometimes i’ll ask for peoples’ instagrams or whatever other social media, and then if they have a cute nickname on there or something i’ll ask if i can call them that

sometimes i’ll discreetly ask other people present. if that person doesn’t know either, and i go ask for the name of Person With An Unknown Name, i can be the other name-forgetter’s hero lol

sometimes i’ll just ask if there’s any nicknames they like to be called. or, if it fits the conversation better, i’ll ask what their full name is again, or i’ll talk about the origin of my name and then ask them who/what they were named after.

if someone is really understanding, i’ll tell them that i’ve had a harder time memorizing information since i got covid and i just can’t remember their name. if they have spent a decent amount of time with me recently, they will know from the way i talk that i’m being truthful lol

having memory problems can be very isolating. just asking is always worth it, even if you’ve asked before. making it clear to the person that it’s not personal is often just as good as being subtle.

if somebody you knew for a year said "listen. im just gonna be honest here. i know ive known you too long to not know your name. but i simply do not. i dont know how this happened. im reasonably confident you told me your name at some point. could you remind me please" how would you react

[wonderjanga]

Warfare

You see, Marvel’s mentioned the Wisdom of Solomon before. The JL never really thought much about it. As a result, the JL just thinks Marvel has all these… interesting ideas but just never says anything about them. Though, there are a couple times the ideas are actually voiced. (They don’t know Billy is just parroting whatever Solomon or occasionally another God with tell him)

Like the time Batman and Marvel got stranded on a planet that was stuck in the middle of war. They were promised

Rebel Leader: “Do either of you have any ideas to bring to the table?”

Batman: “No. Marvel?”

Marvel: “Huh? Oh uh… well I could magic a plague into the water near them. You said they’re using it for their water source, right? Then, when they’re weak, we can go around and take them out.” *sounds hesitant*

Batman: “Hmm… That could be a good idea, but what sort of plague are we talking about?”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “What.”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “Marvel, that’s fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “Well, if we’re quick, it we can get to them before they die.”

Batman: *stares for a bit, holding back a sigh* “We don’t even know if Cholera will affect their biology the same way it does humans.”

Rebel Leader: “What is this Cholera?”

Batman: “It’s a deadly waterborne disease.”

Rebel Leader: “I see… And you’re unsure whether it will work with our physiology… might I propose a different disease?”

So yes, biological warfare, that’s our first thing. Batman proceeded to spend a lot of time convincing the Rebel Leader not to nearly kill an entire group of people with their version of Cholera.

Then there was the time Bruce and Marvel were working together and got held up in a shootout at a lab.

Marvel: *looking at the various chemicals in the lab* “Gosh, I remember my first exposure to chlorine gas.” *getting nostalgic* (He’s from the 1940s in this one, guys)

Batman: “You’ve been exposed to chlorine gas?”

Marvel: “Yeah, and let me tell you, those dang Nazis were horrified when it didn’t work on me. Don’t worry though, we’re gonna be making mustard gas instead.”

Batman: “Captain, we are not doing that.”

Marvel: “Why? We have all the available ingredients.”

Batman: “Marvel.” *puts a hand on his shoulder* “Mustard gas can be fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “My bad.”

*more silence*

Batman: “Is this why you always let others plan?”

Marvel: “Are you gonna look at me weird if I say yes?”

Batman: “Hn.” (Translation: Yes, but it won’t be visible through my cowl)

This incident checks chemical warfare off the list. Bruce is now concerned as to why most of Marvel’s ideas are either nearly fatal or just fatal.

Then there was the time Marvel went undercover with Bruce Wayne, not Batman for whatever reason. They then got attacked by pirates while on a ship trying to gather information about some supervillain.

Bruce and Marvel: *taken cover under a table while the pirates fire cannon balls at them*

Bruce: “Any ideas?” *peaks over the cover only for a cannonball to whiz right past his head*

Marvel: “I think I have one. So here’s what I’m thinking. I take out their mast, steal all their oars, and then push them out to sea and let them drift wherever.

Bruce: “That’s… Intense. Wouldn’t they starve if you just let them drift?”

Marvel: “I guess. If they’re not saved, I mean.”

Bruce: *stares with the most deadpan face* “How about I come up with a plan instead?”

Marvel: “You got it boss.”

And last but not least, the physical warfare.

By the way, Billy doesn’t know Bruce is the Bat. No, no, no, he just thinks the guy is someone Batman wants him to work with. He was a little surprised to see the dude act all brooding like Mr. Batman when he had heard from others that he was a party boy. Oh well, not his business. Meanwhile, Bruce doesn’t know Marvel thinks he’s just interacting with a capable civilian.

That last part was inspired by @helps-the-writing-brain-go’s reblog of this post. Thanks for letting me write with your idea :)

[misctf]

Me and my buddy get along well but I don’t have a father and for some reason I feel like I look up to him. He’s a brunette hockey player who really cares about his body and tracks all of his cals. Any way you could spike one of his beers and give me the best exjock dad ever?

“Let’s go!” Your bro throws down his game controller and looks over at you. His confident smile adorning his handsome, angular face, “I used that same move on the ice the other day.” His clear excitement is infectious and you can’t help but smile.

It was another one of your usual game nights with your bro. The two of you sitting on the couch, controllers in hand, playing some hockey videogame. And even though he always seemed to win, you just enjoy the moment. Your friendship started out when you were younger- the two of you meeting in grade school. And as the years went on, you grew closer. You’d go to his hockey games and cheer him on. He’d fill in as that male role model you needed. When you went to college, he’d continue playing hockey, while you focused on your studies. But you continued to enjoy each other’s company. But this was your last year, and he planned to move across the country. The very thought was painful. Losing him would be tough.

“Hey, you good?” He asks, “I told you I wasn’t going easy.”

You smile, “I was wondering,” You begin, “I know you don’t like beer...”

“Gotta keep these toned.” He says, running a hand down his exposed abs.

“But it’s bro night.” You continue, “I got some special beers for us.”

He seems to consider the offer. Part of him looking a bit apprehensive. After all, he spent much of his time focusing on maintaining his body. His lean muscles and thicc hockey butt were all products of his careful diet and dedicated workouts. But he could tell it would mean a lot to you. He nods slowly.

“One won’t hurt.” He says with a grin, “Cheers to another game night.”

Part of you feels relieved. Another part of you feels somewhat apprehensive. If the man you bought this beer from was telling you the truth... well, you didn’t know what to think. It was probably some prank anyway, and you probably wasted the money. You hand him a solo cup with the beer in it.

“To bro night.” He smiles and takes a sip of the beer, “You know, I’m gonna miss this.” You feel a pang of sadness in your chest, “But we’ll always be bros.”

You nod, taking in his words. Feeling a sense of impending loss. Wishing you could just enjoy these moments forever.

“I’m gonna miss this too... dad.”

He looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, “What did you just call me?” He chuckles.

And you can see it. A few hairs starting to emerge from his once clean-shaven face. A few greys appearing in his brunette locks. Was it true? Was this stuff really going to do what the man said it would?

“Nothing, dad.”

And as the words leave your lips, your buddy groans. His youthful skin starts to lose its glow. A few wrinkles appear on his forehead. And the hair on his face sprouts into a full beard. His hands rush to scratch his new facial hair and his eyes widen.

“Bro, what the hell...” He whispers, “Something’s wrong...”

“What do you mean, dad?”

You watch as his brunette locks begin to recede and his tan vanishes. All the while, small, itchy hairs start to sprout from your buddy’s chest and abs. At this point, he stands up and runs his hands down his new body hair. There’s a look of disgust and confusion on his face, and you can’t help but feel bad for him. After all, he did pride his clean-shaven look.

“You keep calling me dad.” He says, staring at you, “And now...” He catches a glimpse of his receding hairline and aged skin in the mirror, “Bro, please. Whatever you’re doing, you gotta fuckin’ stop.”

You could tell he was getting angry. But you were still marveling over the effects of this drink. You couldn’t believe it was actually working.

“Bro, are you even listening to me?” He says, “Please! You can’t...”

“Sorry dad.” You reply, putting even more emphasis on “dad.”

The effects are more dramatic. Your buddy lets out a pained moan and falls to his knees, gripping his abs. You can see tears fall from his eyes as he realizes his firm abs are feeling softer. And in only a few moments, his abs are covered by a thick layer of fat. And another. And another. And although your buddy is too busy squeezing his new flabby stomach, you can see his pecs fill with fat and sag, resting atop his new gut.

“This can’t be...” He winces at his new, gravelly voice, “Oh god, I sound so old.” He looks up at you, tears still staining his eyes, “Dude, come on... please... I can’t be this.”

A part of you feels bad, even guilty. Your friend’s anger replaced by fear. His confidence shattered. His toned physique truly replaced by that of a middle-aged dad. Part of you wants to reverse this. But you don’t even know how.

“I...” You bite your lip, “Look, I don’t even know if I can undo this, dad.”

Your buddy shuts his eyes and shakes as the short hairs erupt into longer follicles. You watch as a forest of hairs emerge from under his shorts and travel down his legs. His new gut and soft chest are covered in a forest of gray and dark hairs. And you realize now there’s nothing left of your old buddy, at least physically. His receding hairline, gray hairs, gut, and hirsute form all scream middle-aged dad. He slowly stands up, wincing at a pain in his lower back and knees, as he becomes more familiar with his new age.

“Dude...” He whispers, “What did you do?” You can hear the anger return to his voice.

“I didn’t want to lose you, bro.” You say, “And I’ve always looked up to you. And truthfully, I’ve always wanted a dad and the beer promised it could do that. Just as long as I called whoever drank it dad.” Your friend looks shocked and picks up the solo cup.

“Good one dude.” He laughs, “Okay, okay you got me. Maybe if I drink the beer and you call me bro or something, I can return to normal.” He says hopefully, “I promise we can forget all about this.” The desperation starts to creep back into his voice, “Just... please I don’t want this.” He begs.

You’re not a bad person. You even feel a bit guilty. And part of you even wants to do as he suggests. But another thought enters your head. Would he be able to forget all about this? Would he forgive you? You bite your lip and sigh.

“I’m sorry,” You can see his eyes widen in terror, “Dad.”

He drops the beer in his hand, causing the beer inside to spray everywhere. His eyes glaze over and his jaw goes slack. A part of you worries for a moment, but slowly he smiles. There’s no evidence of concern on his face.

“Ah sorry, I spaced out there for a second.” He chuckles, “Looks like I made a mess.” He goes to bend over to pick up the cup, but winces, “Damn back’s been acting up.”

“Don’t worry dad.” You say as he sits back down on the couch, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” He reassures, “Come on, we have to finish our game.” He says with a grin, grabbing the game controller, “You know, I was quite the hockey player back in my day. Well before this.” He chuckles, patting his beer gut.

“I know.” You reply, sitting next to him, “You tell me all the time.” The two of you start to play, and you immediately notice his videogame skills are not where they used to be. But you’re enjoying this moment- going on as if nothing changed.

“Look at that!” He cheers when he scores a goal, “I told you not to take it easy on me, son.”

You go to reply but you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You quickly shake your head and return to the game. And only a few minutes later, he scores another goal.

“You doing okay there, son?” He asks.

And again, you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You look down at the controller and can’t help but notice that your forearms look a bit thicker- your hands meatier. You shake your head and look up at your dad.

“Uh, I’m good dad.” Your voice even sounds deeper- somewhat dumb too, “I-I gotta go to my room.”

You stumble towards your room, feeling somewhat off balance. Entering your room, you’re immediately hit by the smell of intense BO. The same way your bro would smell after a hockey game. There’s gear on your bed and random posters of hockey players on your walls. You barely have time to comprehend what’s going on, when you hear your dad’s voice.

“Hey son, are you okay?”

You groan as your muscles begin to contract violently and your shirt tears from your growing musculature. You can see yourself in the mirror- abs, thicc ass, and lean muscles- the body of a hockey player. And you realize that you’re becoming your dad’s ideal son. Somehow, the beer that splashed on you had the same effects as drinking it.

“Wait dad!” You call out, wincing at the oafish jock-like tone that saturates your words, “Please...!”

“Son?” He asks opening the door.

And your eyes glaze over. Your jaw goes slack. And you feel your mind warping and changing. Any memories you had of your old life or self are being forced into the very back of your mind- all to make room for your new existence as a smelly, ripped, hockey jock. Your dad’s perfect son.

“God it reeks in here.” Your dad laughs, patting you on the back, “Must be workin’ hard out there.”

“You fuckin’ know it.” You reply, eyes dull, “It’s gonna be a good game tomorrow, pops.”

“You learned from the best, champ.” He smiles, “Now come on, we got a game to finish.” You smile, “I want to show you one of my favorite moves. Worked every time. Maybe you can try it out on the ice tomorrow.”

“For sure, pops.”

You follow your dad back to the couch. The two of you playing videogames late into the night, filling the air with boisterous cheers as you played. You couldn’t have asked for a better dad. And he couldn’t have asked for a better son.

[janiehellion]

Falling Deep

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon was a quiet but curious young man—shy, inexperienced, and way more innocent than you’d expect. It was just you, him, and... a vibrator.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: VIRGIN!DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / ORAL FIXATION / CUNNILINGUS / SEX TOYS / DRUGS & ALCOHOL / NON-CON ELEMENTS

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.925

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: PRE-APOCALYPSE—ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @dixongrimesgirl

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Thank you for your patience! I know it’s been a long wait, and I can only hope it was worth it. This might not be exactly what you had in mind when you sent in the request, but I hope you enjoy it.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

The Chattahoochee was a whole different level of disgusting, even for a bar so close to the deep woods of Georgia. Low ceilings, broken lights, and the smell of piss and beer were present in every corner. Regulars stumbled in every night and day, a lot of them already drunk or high, but most of them?

Both.

It was the kind of place that was sticky no matter how much bleach you poured on it and where you could smell the bad life decisions coming from a mile away.

You worked behind the bar, pouring shots of moonshine and avoiding the greedy touches of men like it was just another part of the job. Which, in a place like this, it practically was. Located in the heart of the most godforsaken area of Georgia, it was the perfect place for the kind of people you’d rather not run into at any time.

Safe to say, Merle Dixon had been hitting on you since day one, coming at you with even worse pickup lines while high on who knows what. He'd lean over the counter, smirking, smelling like alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. "Hey, sugar tits, gimme 'nother," he’d laugh, putting a half-torn dollar on the bar like it was supposed to impress you.

"Watch the damn language, Dixon, or that’ll be your last drink for tonight," you’d answer, not even looking up as you poured him another shot.

"Hey, c'mon now," he’d answer you, "don't be like that. Ya know ya wanna gimme a shot at somethin’ else, don't ya?" He'd grin further, which seemed more lustful than charming, his eyes staring at your tits like they belonged there at all times.

You'd roll your eyes and shove the glass across the bar with a little more force than necessary. "In your damn dreams, Dixon. And keep your damn eyes up here, or I’m gonna rip ‘em outta your damn skull," you’d warn, but not entirely without sarcasm. It wasn’t the first time he behaved like that, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

Then there was Daryl, his little brother, always standing or sitting nearby, almost like a shadow, or rather, like someone who didn't belong in a place like that. He wasn’t the type to come up and throw a pickup line at you; hell, he barely spoke at all. Just stood back while Merle tried to flirt with you, as if he was embarrassed to even be there.

You’d catch Daryl looking at you with these sideways glances, his arms crossed over his chest like he was waiting for whatever bullshit his brother might do next. Or maybe he was scared, and he just had no clue what to do with a girl who would throw a bottle at someone's head and talk filthier than any man in the bar.

One night, Merle was high on meth that had his pupils blown wide, and he was drunk as always. "Y'know, darlin'," he slurred, leaning far over the bar, "I could make your night real fuckin' interestin’. Got a little somethin' else with me that’ll loosen ya up for some fun." He took out a tiny baggie—powder—white and unmistakable.

"Fuck off, Merle," you said with a smirk. "Go snort that shit somewhere else, where I don’t have to watch your annoying ass. Ain't your damn babysitter." You were used to it, but he was starting to piss you off more than usual. "And don’t even think about offering it to anyone else inside this hellhole. Last thing I need is you getting the whole damn bar high. Do that outside, with those who are probably shitting all over themselves right now."

Meanwhile, Daryl was sitting on a stool nearby, again, his eyes looking from you to his brother. You couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable he looked, the way he watched Merle and every other person around. There was always something different about him—he was quieter, more... soft. The kind of guy who stood back and kept his head down.

"Leave 'er 'lone, Merle," Daryl mumbled, more to himself than to his brother. But he seemed to be sick of the whole scene. Not that Merle ever listened, or would ever listen to him.

No, Merle just rolled his eyes before shoving the baggie back into his pocket, not even looking in the direction of his brother, keeping his focus only on you... and your tits. "Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just tryin’ to show ya a good time for once." He grabbed his drink and stumbled off, probably to piss in a bush outside, and you were left with Daryl, who still just sat there.

Some time later, you grabbed a dirty rag and started wiping the bar down, side-eyeing him. "You gonna say somethin’, or just keep sittin' there?" You teased, soon throwing the rag under the counter and pouring him another drink.

He shrugged, looking away, clearly not sure what to do with himself. "Ain’t like I could stop him if he tried anythin’," he mumbled, looking down into his glass.

"If he tried, he'd go home without his dick. Not that it'd make much of a difference for him," you said back, smirking at him and trying to get him to loosen up a bit. "You come here just to watch me shut him down every night?"

It was a half-serious question, but you knew the answer. Daryl wasn’t like the other assholes—he didn’t hit on you, didn’t try to grab your ass or tits when you passed by, and never once called you some stupid nickname like sugar tits.

"I… jus' end up 'ere," he said awkwardly, his fingers tapping down on the counter. "Ain’t got much else to do."

"Well, at least you’re not tryin’ to snort coke off my tits or ass," you answered, making him go red in the face.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat, and you couldn’t help but find it kind of adorable.

"You know, since you come here enough, Dixon 2.0," you continued, "might as well help me close up sometime and throw the rest of these assholes outta here. Would get you a drink on the house."

It was just a passing suggestion, a simple idea, but his eyes looked up, like he was considering it, and for once, he actually looked into yours. Not in that drooling, perverted way his older brother did, but with curiosity. "Maybe," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dunno."

"You know what? Just think about it."

And so, the routine went on. Merle would walk in, and Daryl would sit nearby, quietly sipping his own drink while keeping an eye on his brother. And secretly, on you.

Tonight, though? Tonight was different. Somehow, you’d gotten him here, in your home, alone, without Merle, who was probably stinking of booze and piss all over again somewhere. His brother must have gotten his hands on something strong, or whatever it was, it gave you the perfect excuse.

You’d leaned in close while Daryl was mumbling about his brother and told him he should come over; maybe help you with something, and you told him it was important. You hadn’t even needed to lie all that much—he’d just nodded, eyes wide and nervous, and here he was, following you home like a little boy.

When he got to your place, he just stood there, all tense, and moving from one foot to the other like he didn’t know where to put himself. And you—well, you liked watching him squirm and being nervous, knowing well you were the one making him feel like that.

Daryl wasn’t even in the door for five seconds before you threw your bag on the floor, walking inside without saying anything else. No pretenses, no "make yourself at home." You didn’t bother with shit like that. If he was here, he was here on your terms, and you weren’t about to treat him like a guest.

"C’mon in," you said, standing next to the door to finally close it.

You saw him gulp, eyes looking around like he was searching for a quick exit he could use just in case, but finding nothing but trouble. So he nodded, stepping in, his shoulders hunched as he stood there, awkward as hell. Every inch of him screamed that he was nervous, but he didn’t run, not yet. You liked that about him. Quiet, sure, but still stubborn.

Meanwhile, your place was kind of a mess, clothes lying around, bottles on the tables—some empty, some half-full. A few were left over from last week, but hell, you weren’t cleaning for anybody, especially not for him. Daryl didn’t seem to mind, though; if anything, he looked like he was trying hard not to stare around too much, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, his face all red once more, while you kicked off those awful heels that made your feet ache.

"Go on and sit down in my room," you said over your shoulder as you turned around, smirking as you heard his quiet huff. "I'm gonna get outta these damn clothes and put on something more comfortable."

"'Kay," he muttered and nodded again, sounding like he’d swallowed his own tongue.

Once in the bathroom, you pulled off the way too tight top and short skirt in the bathroom, letting yourself breathe for once. That outfit was a real curse; your bra always felt as if it was pushing your tits all the way up to your chin, but it kept the tips flowing, so you kept wearing those clothes.

But tonight? You’d rather die than let Daryl see you in it for too long. Poor boy was already chewing the inside of his mouth and choking on his own words like he might say the wrong thing and die on the spot.

But what you didn't know was that the second you went away to change your clothes, Daryl’s hands started twitching, like his body was on alert between curiosity and unease. A few of your clothes were tossed across the bed, smelling like that bar you worked at—smoke, sweat, and alcohol. It all felt like a place he shouldn’t be at, but here he was, sitting down on your bed and touching your clothes to shove them aside.

He told himself he wasn’t snooping, just trying to figure you out as he sat there nervously. Hell, you were already a mystery to him—a tough girl working in a bar where skirts and shorts barely covered what they ought to and heels high enough to bring any man to his knees.

So here he was, and his mind started running wild, wondering if every woman’s place was like this—half-dirty, with clothes tossed around, magazines piled up, and so much more.

Then his eyes landed on a big box sitting half-shoved under your bed, an open corner poking out like it had been forgotten as his foot bumped against it. He should’ve left it alone, but there was that itch, like he couldn’t look away. Daryl crouched down, sitting down on the floor, his fingers fumbling with the top until it opened up. His eyes went wide, lips parting as he looked inside.

It was filled with... things. Smooth, soft, strange-looking things in different shapes and colors, each one making him more confused than the last.

"What's this stuff?" He whispered, eyes squinting as he picked up a small pink thing with a rounded end. It fit in his hand, smooth but with some weight to it. "This for her... work?" He mumbled, rolling it over in his hand like it might magically turn into something he recognized. Maybe it was a tool, or even one of those weird bar gadgets he didn’t know about.

Another catch of something sparkly and soft shoved down in there made his heart beat faster, and before he knew it, he was pulling out more—the things looking weirder by the second. There was a wand-looking thing, and he held it like it might explode, wondering what the hell you were doing with all this.

"Drugs? Gotta be for drugs," he muttered, frowning as he inspected the box. Could be some kind of injector, maybe? He knew about that stuff—the guys that Merle met sometimes, passing around different things for the good times. But nothing here made sense, and there wasn't any instruction manual in sight.

He looked around like you’d come back any second and catch him, heat burning inside of him as he thought about what this meant. Were you hiding something? Was it… Was it for some kind of secret thing you did when no one was around?

"Damn it, what’re ya up to?" He said, biting his lip, his hand brushing over the surface of the smooth, strange thing, feeling his pulse race at the thought that you did know exactly what these were for.

And yet he didn’t. Not a damn clue.

"Hell’s this?"

He felt a cord between his fingers, pulling it slightly, as if tugging on it might magically make it make sense. Maybe it was for listening to music? But it had no sound, and no little earbuds or anything that he could see.

Setting that one down, he picked up another—an oblong thing with ridges along one side. It looked almost like a flashlight, but there was nowhere for the light to shine from. He pressed his thumb over it, turning it this way and that, but nothing happened.

"What the hell?" It had to be for something specific. You wouldn’t just have random stuff lying around like this for no reason, would you?

Then he found another, rounder one, with a strange little button on the side. He pressed it, flinching a bit when it buzzed all of a sudden. The damn thing nearly jumped out of his hand, and he held it tight to stop the vibrations.

"Damn thing’s possessed," he nearly yelled, feeling his cheeks burn. It felt... weird. Too weird.

And you? You had barely slipped into the bathroom, taking off your work clothes and enjoying the idea of how Daryl would squirm alone for a moment in your bedroom. The way he’d stumbled his way in earlier, not wanting to make eye contact like he didn’t know what to do with his own hands? It was almost way too easy to tease him.

And there he was, practically glowing red, sitting next to the box you kept under the bed. A simple big box—hell, he was behaving so cautiously, like he’d just discovered a bomb or a dead body. But what really caught you was the thing in his hand. A vibrator.

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me," you whispered, loud enough for him to hear. His head moved up, eyes wide as if he’d just been caught robbing a bank.

"Shit!" The vibrator fell out of his hand, hitting the floor, but that was only the start; the thing started buzzing further—vibrating across the floor and right toward your feet. Daryl didn’t move; he didn’t even reach for it. He just sat there, staring at the buzzing vibrator like it was going to bite him.

"Gonna tell me what you’re doin’ with my stuff?" You asked, half-amused, half-teasing, waiting to see what half-assed excuse he’d come up with, as you leaned against the door frame. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out at first.

"I… uh—" he stammered, swallowing loudly, his hands fidgeting like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. "I thought… I mean—thought it was, like, stuff for..." His voice trailed off, eyes looking to the ground, too ashamed to meet yours.

"Yeah? Stuff for what?" You pressed further, stepping forward, taking the vibrator and turning it off, stopping the noise but not the look of pure mortification on his face.

"I… thought it might be, y'know... Maybe it was, uh, y’know, things for... for bar stuff, or somethin’. Yer work." His voice was quiet, like he might get in trouble just for saying it out loud.

"For work?" You laughed and crouched down to sit next to him. "Yeah, Daryl, because every bartender needs a vibrator in her kit. So… You wanna tell me why you’re snooping, or am I just supposed to guess?"

You reached over, brushing a hand along the edge of your toy box, taking in the way his eyes tried to look at each item inside. Poor boy had no clue what half of it was for, but he looked at everything like it might burn him.

"Am sorry! I wasn’t… Jus'… waitin’ on ya an' got curious, I guess," he murmured. "Didn’t mean nothin’ by it."

You leaned in closer, enough that he could probably feel your breath on his face. "Curious, huh?" You asked, eyeing the way his shoulders tensed up. "You don't know what that stuff is?"

"Uh…" He blinked, looking between you and the vibrator like it might suddenly start buzzing again. "Not… really. No."

"Oh, you really don’t?" You pretended to be surprised. "It’s a toy, Dixon. A fun toy. For women. And men sometimes as well."

"That for real?" He asked, voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

"As real as it gets, sweetheart. And judging by that look on your face, I’d bet you don’t have much experience with this sorta things." You raised an eyebrow, daring him to admit it.

He swallowed hard, his eyes dropping back to the floor. "Ain’t never… really..." He trailed off, his whole face full of embarrassment.

"Never what?" You asked, leaning in so close you could smell the cigarettes and sweat on him, and somehow, it drove you wild. "Fucked a woman? Or even fucked yourself, huh?"

"I—" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, a sound that told you everything you needed to know. "I don’t… don’t really know… how… t'do any of that."

"Oh, honey." You leaned back a little. "You look like you’re about ready to pass out."

Daryl trembled, trying to look anywhere but at you, his whole face burning. "I—I jus'… I dunno what to do with... all that," he continued, motioning awkwardly toward the box.

You smirked, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. "Guess no one’s shown you how a woman uses one of these before, huh?" You watched his reaction, loving every little deep breath he took and every embarrassed flinch.

"N-no… But what if... maybe they could've been... for, uh, drugs?" His face somehow went even more red, and he looked ready to sink into the floor.

"Drugs? What, you think I’m hiding some kind of dealer setup in my own bedroom? And especially right under my damn bed?" You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Trust me, they’ll get you high, alright—but not the way you’re thinkin’."

The embarrassment on his face was almost painful to watch as he shifted on the ground. "Like I said, I—I don't... Ain’t never done stuff like that before, okay? I—I mean, I done that with myself... sometimes. But not really... okay?"

You smiled, letting your fingers move over his, watching as his breath stopped, his eyes looking up to meet yours for a desperate second. "Well," you murmured, "maybe I could show you a thing or two. If you’re up for it, that is."

Daryl swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he glanced between you and the box again. He indeed looked like he was about to pass out, but he seemed curious—curious in a way that he couldn’t quite hide.

"Oh, c'mon, I know you want to," you whispered, clicking your tongue, standing up, and taking off your shirt slowly. His eyes looked up fast, staring at you, and he shifted on the spot, pressing his thighs together. That’s when you noticed the growing bulge in his pants—it was more than obvious he was already hard as a rock.

"Damn, Dixon," you chuckled, "you’ve got a real problem, don’t you?" You let your shirt fall down to the floor. "Hey, don’t just sit there looking lost—c’mon, no way you're that scared of undressing a woman!"

He stammered something, some half-strangled "n-no," his hands gripping his own thighs like he had to hold himself back from reaching for you. That only spurred you on, raising your brows as you grabbed him to stand up and guiding his trembling hands to the hem of your pants.

"Well, here’s your chance," you smirked, waiting for him to open the button. You watched his fingers fumble with it, shaking as he pulled down the zipper, and then, when he managed to pull your pants down over your hips along with your panties, his eyes widened like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

"Keep goin’, don't be shy," you whispered, guiding his fingers down your thighs until your clothes hit the floor.

He just stood there, staring, mouth opening like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the slightest clue what to do next. You leaned in close, eyes locked on his, before you knelt down again and took the vibrator out of the box once more, pressing the button and letting it hum.

His eyes shot to the toy, watching with pure terror and fascination, and when you pressed it into his hand again, he held it like some foreign, sacred object he was too scared to break.

"Here," you mumbled, laying down onto the bed, legs spread just enough to give him a view he couldn’t tear himself away from even if he tried, before you pulled him next to you and guided his hand between your legs, pressing the vibrator to your thigh and dragging it higher. "Just like that, Daryl. Feels interesting, doesn’t it?"

Daryl could barely breathe, staring down as if hypnotized, the muscles in his whole body tensing up. When you moved his hand to press the vibrator against your pussy, you felt him stiffen, his other hand gripping his thigh to stop himself from trembling. The toy was vibrating against you, and you let out a quiet, satisfied sigh, glancing up just in time to see the way his eyes stayed on you, watching every little twitch and shiver of your body.

"I bet you’re a quick learner," you teased, reaching down to guide his hand again, moving it with the toy so it hit just right, and damn, if it didn’t feel good. His mouth fell open a little, and he sucked in a breath when you suddenly moaned, pressing yourself harder against the vibrator. His hand moved a bit awkwardly, like he didn’t quite know if he was supposed to be touching you this way, but the look in his eyes said he wanted to keep going more than anything.

You let out another moan, a little louder this time, just to see the way he reacted. His grip on the toy tightened, and you didn’t miss the way he was fighting with himself, clearly struggling to keep himself in check as his cock pressed harder against his pants, his breath coming out faster and shorter.

"Poor thing," you whispered, pulling his hand away for a moment, just to watch him struggle. "Bet you’ve never been this hard, huh?" Daryl's eyes looked at you, wide and mortified, like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. But the look he gave you—so desperate, so needy—only made you want to push him further.

"You wanna see what this thing can do to me?" You asked, not giving him time to answer as you pressed the vibrator into his hand again and guided it back between your legs. "Just keep it steady, like that. Right there." You rocked your hips against it, letting out a shaky breath as the lust built itself up inside of you, still watching as he clung to every little sound that left your lips.

Daryl's eyes were glued to you, his mouth open, and you noticed the way he kept moving his hips, trying to get rid of his hard-on. But no matter how much he squirmed, it wasn’t enough. He was near leaking through his pants by now, his cock being so hard he couldn’t think straight, and the sight of you practically coming undone in front of him had him on the edge himself.

"Feels good, doesn’t it, Dixon? But... don't you want to feel that too?" You taunted, moving your fingers along his wrist, pushing him to press harder and the toy just a tiny bit into you, wanting to let him feel every little tremor that wracked your body. He just nodded, lost for words, breathing hard, his eyes moving between your face and the way your hips bucked against his hand.

"Keep going, just like that," you urged, and he obeyed, pressing the vibrator a little harder, his other hand softly brushing against your thigh as if he needed something to hold onto to keep himself from falling apart. His face was so close now, so flushed, eyes wide with need, lips parted as he struggled to keep his breathing steady.

"Y’know, Daryl," you moaned, "you’re doing a hell of a job for someone who’s never touched a woman before, not even with toys." His face burned, but he kept going, kept pressing that toy against your pussy, completely mesmerized by the way you reacted.

"You like watching me, don’t you?" You murmured, letting out another moan that left him swallowing hard. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed... that you can’t keep your eyes off me and how damn hard you are."

He tried to come up with a response, something about "I... I didn’t mean to..." but his words trailed off, and he was just there, helpless, utterly at your mercy, his hand tightening on the toy as you let out one last moan that left him breathless and staring, before you snatched the vibrator from him and clicked it off.

The little tremor it left in his hand was nothing compared to the way he stared at you now, still holding onto that last bit of control.

"Think you can do it without help?" You asked, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to your pussy and to make him feel how wet you were, his fingers twitching as they moved along your folds. Daryl nodded but was holding on for dear life and trying not to slip.

"I... I dunno," he mumbled, eyes glued to your pussy.

"Oh, for the love of... here," you growled, placing your hand over his, guiding his touch lower, rougher, until you dragged his fingers exactly where you wanted them. But Daryl was a mess, barely holding himself together, his other hand still clamped over that hard bulge in his pants as he lay there beside you.

"Now, watch closely," you instructed, pressing his fingers just the way you liked it. "Doesn’t take much, does it?" You smiled, letting your free hand move down his chest, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. "Bet you’d come just feeling me touch you."

He whimpered, the outline of his cock pulsing through his pants, a wet spot already forming itself. It didn’t take much to notice the hesitation in his every move, making him so easy to toy with.

You leaned back a little, pushing your tits forward. "Go on and position yourself over me," you dared, and as soon as he did, you lifted his other hand from his bulge to your tits, watching as he sucked in a breath, his hand shaking as if he were holding something he had no right to touch. "Ever felt these before?"

Daryl shook his head, still wide-eyed, his eyes looking into yours for a second before dropping back down, like he was afraid to look too long.

"Then make the most of it." You reached down, pressing his other hand harder against you. "I want you to use that mouth of yours now," you smirked, pushing him down to press his lips against your nipples. His breath was warm and shaky, and he hesitated, his mouth just an inch away from you. You raised an eyebrow, daring him, and after a long, deep breath, he finally leaned in.

"That's a good boy," you praised, your fingers running through his hair, feeling him shiver under your touch. He was so damn easy to play with, each little whimper and moan only turning you on more, urging him to suck and lick, his tongue slow but eager, desperate for more.

"Gently," you ordered, glancing down to see him lose himself, his hands now touching you like he didn’t want to let go. The poor guy was panting, his eyes squeezed shut as he sucked and kissed your nipple, as if the sight alone would push him over the edge.

You soon moved your hand down, feeling the outline of his cock through his pants, feeling him flinch, his breath stopping as you gave him just a bit of what he wanted. "This what you want, Daryl?" You whispered, teasing him and squeezing his shaft just enough to make him groan, his hips bucking, desperate for more. "You do, don't you? But now, I want you to eat me out."

Daryl couldn’t even get out a response, his mouth still on your nipple, but the look in his eyes told you everything.

"Pathetic, but also really cute," you laughed, unzipping his pants just enough to reach inside, your fingers wrapping around his cock and making him gasp, his whole body tensing as you squeezed him. He was thick, hard, already wet from the pre-cum that leaked from his tip, and the way he moaned, quite high, only made you want to drag it out and tease him until he was begging to come.

As you quickly positioned yourself over his face, you could see how he was a nervous wreck the moment your ass hovered above him. "Oh, please, don’t just lay there. Get to work," you teased, lowering yourself down, your pussy brushing against his lips.

When he finally opened his mouth, it was like you flipped a switch. The moment your folds hit his tongue, he moaned, the sound muffled against you. It sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but grind against his face, pushing him harder against you.

"God, you’re a natural," you gasped, encouraging him with your hips. "Just like that, baby. Don’t be shy; use your tongue."

Daryl’s mouth worked hesitantly at first, but the more you ground down, the more confident he became. His face was buried in your pussy, the taste of you driving him wild as he licked and sucked, trying to figure out what made you feel good, and the way he looked up at you, eyes full of wonder and lust, only made you want to ride his face harder.

"Yeah, keep going," you panted, feeling your legs tremble as he finally got into a rhythm. "Good boy, just like that," you moaned, feeling the tension building inside you. He was so focused, so eager to please, and the way he hungrily licked and sucked made you see stars.

"Don’t stop, Daryl. I’m so close," you urged. "Yeah, that’s it," you moaned, pushing your hips down even harder. "Don’t you dare stop. Just like that—yes!"

The way he held your thighs, trying to hold you against him, and the way he whimpered against you—those sweet little sounds pushed you right over. "I’m cumming! Fuck!"

Your body tensed, and you ground down harder again, shaking and feeling him groan against your dripping pussy as you let go and came, completely lost in the moment.

You felt him drink it all in, and you knew he was just as lost as you were. The second you pushed yourself off his face and watched him, face red and lips parted, you could tell Daryl had no idea what to do with himself. Wide-eyed and panting, he lay there as if you’d just dragged him straight into some fever dream he wasn’t even ready for. He seemed so helpless as he tried to piece together the storm of feelings that’d just hit him.

"Still with me, Daryl?" You asked, letting your weight push him further into the bed. His eyes looked down between your legs, then looked away, like he didn’t have the courage to watch.

"Y-yeah…"

He shuddered, that helpless little whine slipping out as you leaned down, your mouth right over his. He was as stiff as a board beneath you, looking both horrified and desperately curious at the same time.

"Think you can handle more of this?" You whispered, one hand moving down and wrapping around his cock as you took it fully out of his pants.

"W-wait," he stammered, trying to close his legs in a last attempt to get some space, but you only held him tighter, giving his cock a slow, teasing stroke. It twitched in your hand, leaking all over your fingers like he couldn’t stop himself.

"Sweetie, look at you," you smiled, swirling a finger over the tip, just to watch him jerk, hips lifting up like he was begging. "So needy aren't we?"

Daryl let out another whimper, his face going beet-red, those shy eyes looking away once more as though if he didn’t look at you, he’d somehow be less mortified.

"Feels so good, huh?"

His whole body was practically trembling with need, and he was leaking—a lot. His cock throbbed in your hand, pre-cum dripping so much it smeared along your fingers.

"Damn, Daryl," you whispered, smirking as your fingers now teased along the underside of his cock. "Didn’t know you’d be this easy, really."

You soon leaned down, your mouth just over his cock; the slightest lick of your tongue along his tip pushed another bit of pre-cum out, and you couldn’t help but laugh, loving every bit of his need.

"Baby, look at you, leaking everywhere," you teased again, wiping the tip with your thumb before bringing it to your lips, licking off the taste. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, you pulled back slightly before leaning up to kiss him, letting him taste himself on your lips.

It made him moan again, his hands reaching out to grip your body as if needing to ground himself. "P-please…" He whispered, but you didn’t give in just yet.

Instead, you reached down, grabbing your vibrator again. You saw the way his eyes narrowed, with pure nervousness all over his face, as you suddenly pressed the toy to his cock, starting at the lowest setting. The buzzing made him gasp, his hips jerking involuntarily against you as you dragged the vibrator along his shaft, right along that sensitive spot just under the head. Every time it brushed up and down, he leaked more against your hand, only making it messier.

"Oh s-shit…" He whimpered, sounding utterly wrecked.

With a smirk, you leaned back and held up the vibrator for him to see, his eyes following it, dazed, and lips parted. "I think that’s enough; otherwise you might explode on the spot," you said, watching his expression drop just slightly as he looked at you switching it off and tossing it back into your toy box all of a sudden.

Leaning up, you gave his lips a slow, lazy kiss, feeling him melt against you, even more needy when you pulled away and slipped back down. And damn if he didn’t start leaking more, a fresh drop of slick pre-cum glistening right there, just begging to be tasted.

"How sweet you are, Daryl," you murmured, slowly moving your tongue along the underside of his cock, not missing the way his hips jerked up instinctively, even though he didn't seem to understand why. One gentle lick. That’s all it took for him to be close again, and he was helpless against it.

"Just relax and enjoy it," you continued, letting your tongue move along the tip of his cock and the desperate little gasp of his driving you wild as he grabbed the sheets, practically sobbing as he tried to hold back.

You wrapped your lips around just the head, barely enough to count as anything. But to him? It was like fireworks going off.

"N-no, I—oh fuck, I can’t—" He breathed out as his head fell back, his body shivering under you.

And when you took him just that tiny bit deeper, that was it—he lost it. Hard. He tried to hold it, tried to push you back even, one hand weakly pressing against your head, but he was already too far gone. The orgasm tore through Daryl, overpowering him completely.

His whole body stiffened, a helpless cry coming from his throat as he finally lost it, filling your mouth with his cum as he came. Before he even had time to process it, you’d swallowed every last drop from his throbbing cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you looked back up at him.

He was still shaking, his mind clearly blown, and when he finally managed to look at you, it was with that same wide-eyed shock.

Daryl just lay there, still in shock, his body trembling as reality sank in. "D-did ya really jus'—" His voice cracked with disbelief all over his face as he tried to wrap his head around what just happened.

You smirked at him, leaning in close, your lips moving softly against his in a teasing kiss. "What’s the matter, sweet boy? Never had someone swallow your cum before?"

He quickly shook his head. "I—I thought ya might get pregnan' or somethin'!" He stammered in embarrassment, his mind racing with the wildest thoughts.

"Oh, cutie. You really think it’s that easy? I'm sorry, but that's not how it works," you laughed, nudging his arm, enjoying the way his shoulders tensed up like he was trying to hide from you. "What? Can’t even look me in the eye after that?"

He opened his mouth, but whatever words he thought he might stammer out just died right there, and his hand went up to scratch the back of his neck.

"I... I didn’ mean to..." he finally managed to say, his voice cracking in the middle, his face still as red as a tomato.

You raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t mean to what? Coming in record time?" You let out a sarcastic scoff, and he near cried, ducking his head as though it would save him.

"I-I dunno, I thought... I jus', I mean—" he stumbled over each word. "Jus' ain’t never been with... y’know, anyone... like that."

"No kidding," you replied dryly, watching him shrink even smaller, if that was possible. "Anyone coulda guessed that, by the way, you freaked the hell out." He winced at your words, but hell, it just made him look all the more adorable, laying there.

When you placed a hand on his thigh, he went stiff as a board all over. "Easy, Daryl," you murmured. "No one’s laughing at you... much."

"I-I’m... sorry," he mumbled again.

"Sorry?" You scoffed, tilting his chin up to force his eyes to look at you. "For what? That you came too soon, or that you actually loved it?"

He tried to look away, but your fingers held him in place. "Both, I reckon," he answered, his voice shaking. It was like he thought he’d done something wrong, like he needed to apologize for being human.

"Nothing wrong with it, Dixon. Means I sure as hell did it right." You laughed, running a thumb over his jawline as he stared back at you.

"Bet that head of yours is just spinning right now, ain’t it?" You said, half-mocking. "Poor, sweet Daryl, don’t know what to do with himself now."

It was easy to see what he still needed—what he wanted, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it. You didn’t have to guess, though. He was desperate for something more, desperate for you to just tell him what to do. It was obvious that he had no experience with women or anything like this, but it didn’t matter to you. If anything, it just made it better. You wanted him nervous.

"Hey," you said softly. "It’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed. Not at all." You could see that he wanted to apologize again, wanting to make up for how pathetic he felt.

"Tell you what," you said, kissing his cheek. "You’ve got a lot to learn, Daryl Dixon. But I think you’re gonna like it. You just need to stop worrying." His hands moved to your waist, but they were hesitant, unsure. "And me? Well, I’m not here to judge you."

You took his hands and placed them back on your body, guiding him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate much, but it seemed as if he was trying to copy the way you had guided him earlier, trying to find some way to make up for what had happened. But that, for now, was enough.

"Don’t worry," you said, grinning at him, "I’m going to teach you."

Because you would. And he had no choice. Maybe that was what you liked most. The way Daryl needed you now, the way he didn’t even know what he wanted, but he was willing to follow you with your help along the way.

And he was only going to fall deeper.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema — (also tagging @darylsdelts as requested)

[twinksrepository]

A shower for two

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Lucifer X F!Reader

CW: Smut, sweaty, teasing, Fingering, delayed orgasm, multiple orgasms, implied rough sex, Shower sex, implied creampie, hickies.

Word count: Roughly 2.7K

A/N: You get back from a run and almost run right into Lucifer, who offers to join you for a shower before joining him for a meal.

I bet you don't need much to know what premium picture inspired this one.

Images belong to Solmare.

Jogging up the stairs to the house you stop for a moment, using the bottom of your shirt to dry some of the sweat on your face while you try to catch your breath. Pacing a little and using the cool air of the evening to help slow your racing heart before heading inside. 

A few slow steps as you pulled your earbuds out heading towards your room to grab a set of clean clothes. You’re drenched from your run and the idea of a hot shower sounds amazing against your tired muscles. Turning down the hallway and almost bumping into Lucifer. By almost, you mean if he wasn’t more aware you would have planted your head against his chest since you were looking downward. 

“Oh, sorry.” Giving a small laugh that shows just how out of breath you still are as you step back. 

A whisper of your name before you get one of those rare soft Lucifer smiles. “Just getting back?” 

Nodding and wiping the side of your face feeling a few beads of liquid drip downward, you are not cooling down at all. “How about you? I thought you had some work to do back at RAD?” 

“Done. It didn’t take me as long as I expected.” You flinch a little when he reaches out to tuck the strand of hair that always seems to fall in front of your face back behind your ear. “Did you eat already?” 

“No.” You shake your head while answering him. “I went for a run almost as soon as I got back, I told the others not to save me any dinner.” It would have been a fight to keep a single plate from Beel even if you had wanted something put aside. “I figured after my shower I’d just grab a sandwich or something.” 

“Ah.” Nodding at your logic with the hint of a smile, you can’t help but feel the fluttering of your stomach as your cheeks start to burn while you flush for a different reason. “I picked up a few premade meals on my way home, I expected to miss whatever had been made. Would you care to join me in my room?” 

The fluttering in your stomach grows worse and you feel your face split into a wide grin. “I’d love to. I just need a shower and I’ll meet you there.” Starting to move past him since you don’t want to take too much longer knowing you have the chance to spend a few uninterrupted hours with him. A gloved hand stops you in your tracks placed against the center of your chest. “Lucifer?” Tilting your head to the side unsure of the reason for the brief flash of pink across his nose.

“Perhaps, I’ll join you.” Your stomach clenches and your heart starts to race once more as you bite your lip before nodding. “I’ll see you in my bathroom.” If you thought you had been blushing before your face is an inferno now, giving him a soft acknowledgment before he leaves you in the hallway. 

Darting to your room with your face ablaze your heart beating a tempo that has you hearing the pumping of the blood inside your veins in your ears. You feel like you’re on a secret mission or something as you check the corners of the hallways, not wanting to be caught by any of the brothers as you make your way toward the Avatar of Pride’s room. Your clothes are pressed tightly to your chest, well not that tightly so you don’t cover them in sweat. 

A short knock and you’re tugged through the crack in the door, your face firmly planted in his chest before you hear the lock being engaged. “Um. It’s just a shower Lucifer.” You find yourself muttering into his chest. 

“I prefer when our time isn’t interrupted by the antics of my brothers.” His hands slid down over your arms, the bare skin of his palms raising goosebumps in their wake. You’d arrived as he was starting to undress himself, he’s down to his pants and black shirt. Glancing up you turn your head to the side to avoid his lips connecting with your skin. 

“Lucifer, I’m sweaty and gross.” You don’t like denying him the chance to kiss you, it’s one of your favorite things but the idea of making out while you can smell your sweaty body doesn’t help put you in the mood. 

“You’re covered in sweat when you’re tied to my bed and under me, screaming for me to break you. When I let you scream anyway.” It’s such a deadpan delivery that you jump in his hold, your nose scrunched up because you can’t really argue with his logic. 

“It’s just different ok!” A waiver in your voice that makes you sound so unsure of yourself, thankfully the demon takes pity on you and steps away. Or he noticed the low whine of your embarrassment. A few strides toward his closet as he keeps removing his clothes—a slight distraction as those painted nails work the buttons of his shirt loose.  

“You know your way to the bathroom.” Jumping again, the inferno burning on your face once more, your ears burning just as much if not more than your cheeks. Slightly embarrassed at being caught watching him, if you had paused a little longer you would have caught the swell of his chest. Or the smirk on his face. 

Leaving your clean clothes on the counter near the vanity, stopping to let out a soft snort at the flickering lights lining the bathtub edge against the wall. “Did you seriously light candles in here?” Calling out while you start to peel your sticky clothes from your skin, wincing at the size of the wet patch on the fabric. Confirmation of a good workout at least. 

“I see my attempt at being romantic is once more wasted on you.” Another flinch when his deep voice whispers next to your ear, unable to see him because of your shirt sticking to you as you try to pull it over your head. “Here.” A hint of amusement as his hands slid under the stuck garment to help divulge you of the fabric. 

“Not wasted.” Laughing as your head pops out of the opening, licking your lips at the shifting of the muscles of his arms as he tosses the sodden fabric to join when you had left your pants in the corner. “I do appreciate when you show that side of you, but between that and saying how you picked up a few premade meals.” Raking your eyes over his body, noticing the black towel wrapped around his hips. “I might be a little suspicious and starting to think you planned this.”

A deep chuckle and a grin your only answer as he steps around you to work the knobs for the shower and the oversized raindrop showerhead before snapping the towel from his hips. A look sent over his shoulder at you as he slips under the spray and your hands move a lot faster to remove the rest of your clothes to join him.

The first few drops of water that hit your skin are just the right temperature as you step in behind him, trying to keep your eyes from trailing downward to the fine muscles of his lower back. And lower. The streams of water along his well-defined body don’t help with the way the water forms trails that converge in just the right spot. 

Neither does him trailing his fingers through his wet hair and slicking it back from his forehead. You swallow, an action he doesn’t miss. “I believe you were the one who needed the shower.” 

“I swear you’re trying to see if you can make me combust.” Muttering as the fire on your cheeks is hot enough you’re sure it has to be causing steam to rise from your skin. Steeping in front of him to let the spray hit you directly, your hands rubbing at your face as the water streamed down your skin. 

“If I did that who would keep me company?” He’s teasing you still but any annoyance you might feel is brushed aside by the feel of his fingers along your scalp. 

“Diavolo.” You tease right back, laughing as he swatted at your ass from dropping the demon prince’s name. 

“That brazen attitude of yours is going to get you in trouble.” 

“Trouble that involves punishment from you?” Your quip has both of you laughing, and you lean back letting Lucifer lather your hair. It’s an uncommon occurrence that you would have never expected from him when you first came to the Devildom. If you’re being honest up until your last night as a member of the exchange program the first time you would have never pictured it. His love language is definitely more along the lines of physical touch and acts of service. When he doesn’t have you tied down and exhausted anyway.

“Rinse.” A single command and you step back fully under the spray and the moment you no longer felt any suds along your hair you turn to pull Lucifer under the spray with you. Tilting yourself to kiss the underside of his chin while the water pounded into both of you. 

“Thank you handsome.” 

“You know one is never enough to satisfy me.” His arms wrapping around you and you find your hands reaching up to tangle in his damp locks as he connects your lips. There’s no preamble to him sliding his tongue into your mouth, you see no reason no deny letting him have control and doing whatever he wants. Moaning as his tongue coils along yours in a way that makes you feel weak in the knees and has your core clenching. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to become heated and there’s no mistaking the firm length trapped between your bodies. 

“What happened to being sweaty and gross? We’ve only washed your hair.” His voice has that edge to it that lets you know he’s planning to absolutely fuck your brains out tonight. You’re going to be sore tomorrow that’s for sure, and internally you’re giddy. More than happy to be a pillow princess for him unless he wants you to do something specific. 

“I’m easily distracted.” Laughing against the seam of his mouth. “You know that.” Keeping an arm around his neck as you lean back a small amount, using your finger to toy with the longer portion of his bangs. Curling the strands around your index finger and watching the light shine through the graying sections. Giving him a wink. “Since you are my favorite distraction.” 

Shaking his head with a soft smirk in place. “I would never refer to you as a distraction, though you are almost as much trouble as my brothers.” 

“Only almost?” You’re well aware of the feeling of his fingers sliding down your back, the tips of his fingers gracing every vertebrae as they trail downward. 

“You’re more fun to punish.” Giving your butt a squeeze and leaning forward so he can nip the shell of your ear. “Was earlier just a ploy to rile me up, refusing to kiss me and make me wait?” His voice is low with a husk to it, that ember in your core burning a little hotter. 

Honestly, that wasn’t what you had been aiming for but the way he sounds, and the twitching of his cock between your bodies. Well. “Of course it was.” If he catches your lie he ignores it, but the smirk he’s sporting has your core throbbing. “Haven’t you heard good things come to those who wait?” 

“You’re lucky I have patience then.” Moving his head to catch your lips while his hands slide down to you grip your ass and lift you, turning the two of you until you feel the slick tiles against your back. As his tongue slides against yours, you give your hips a roll seeking some friction along his body. “Unlike you it seems.”

“I can’t help it, you’re additive Lucifer.” You know he has a firm grip on you, reaching one hand down to wrap your fingers around his length. “And I like being stuffed.” Pumping his shaft while mouthing at his neck. 

He doesn’t say anything more, shifting your body in his hold and angeling his hips to better align your bodies. You don’t need him to speak as you use your fingers to slide his cock between your folds, smearing the head with the fluid seeping from your core. The mist from the spray hitting his back clings to both of you, looking at his crimson orbs you lick your lips. 

You can feel your heart pounding inside your chest as you both maintain eye contact, staring into those red eyes that shine with adoration certain you have a similar look within your eyes. Gasping as in a single movement Lucifer buries his length in your slick walls, your hands gripping his shoulders as you moan long and low against his neck. 

“Hold on.” Groaning through gritted teeth as he starts to thrust into you, the force driving your back hard against the tiles of the shower. Sliding your hands along his shoulders to the back of his neck, intertwining your fingers while your neck arches the crown of your head sliding along the tiles. Your legs rising to wrap around his waist, hooking your feet together and using them to push his hips harder against your body.

His breathing turns ragged in no time, panting as his hips piston in and out of you at a break neck speed. “Lucifer!” You’re no better off, squeezing your elbows together to try and steady yourself against his chest. The steady wet snap and the stretch of your walls has you approaching your edge quickly. 

“I know.” There’s a flush on his cheeks that has nothing to do with the hot water still beating against his skin. Dropping his forehead against yours his damp exhale mingles with your own heated breath. “Cum for me.” With the tiles against your back, Lucifer doesn’t need to keep both of his hands on your ass. Trailing one hand upward along your side to brush his long digits against your ribs. 

Sliding your fingers along his neck to tilt his head upwards so you can close the distance and press your lips against his. Your back arches when he angles his hips just enough to push you over that edge, a shuttering gasp into his mouth as your walls clamp around him like a vice forcing his movement to still. 

Keeping his touch light, Lucifer trails his fingers along your side breathing deeply to regain control of his cock to stop himself from spilling inside of you. He’ll stuff you full of his cum several times before the night is over, but each time will be on his terms. Waiting for the spamming of your core to slow before lowering your legs to the floor but keeping a hand on your hip. 

You’re glad for his steadying hand, one of your arms wrapped around his neck as you lean against his shoulder. With the slick surface of the tub and how rubbery your legs feel you seriously doubt if you could have stood on your own right now. “That was a damn good cool down.” Trying to joke with him while you catch your breath. 

“Cool down?” A hint of disbelief in his voice as he guides you under the spray once more. “I’d say your run was your stretch for what I have planned for the rest of the night.” Grabbing the smaller bottle of your shower gel that seems to have a permanent place in his bathroom and starting to work at cleaning your skin. 

“Does that mean you aren’t going to feed me like you promised?” 

It’s silent except for the falling water for a few moments before Lucifer burst out laughing, kissing the corner of your mouth before he goes back to cleaning your skin. “I did invite you to share a meal with me.” Working along your stomach he gives you a look. “After that meal, I plan to ruin you.” 

“No visible marks.” A small plea that gets another chuckle from him. 

“I’ll consider the request.” 

The next morning when you head into the dining room for breakfast there’s no denying the marks along your neck and jaw. Or avoiding Asmo asking why he wasn’t invited to join the two of you based on the noises he heard when he walked by. 

Back to Masterlist

[harunayuuka2060]

'Oh, why must I be plagued by such 'ineptitude' around me? I gave you one simple task: bring me Idia Shroud. And what did you do? You captured two random students and held them hostage!'

Arcane Hunter A: But boss, one of them is a fae, and I remember you were fanboying over someone like that on TV.

Arcane Hunter B: *nudges him* *giving his partner a look to shut up*

Arcane Hunter A: What?

'...'

'A fae?'

Arcane Hunter A: Yeah. And they're good-looking too.

*The mysterious figure seems to have been reminded of something.*

'Ah, of course... They're also enrolled at Night Raven College... Haha! How could I have overlooked such an important detail?'

Arcane Hunter A: Uh... Boss?

'I suppose I can pardon your failure on this mission... for the time being.'

MC: For those who call themselves Arcane Hunters, they certainly seem to lack the ability to properly secure hostages.

MC: Anyway, how are you feeling, Ortho?

Ortho: I feel much better now, and I’ve already sent our coordinates to my brother.

Ortho: Also, thank you for the repair.

MC: *smiles* I only managed to gather the tools you needed, but you did all the work.

Ortho: *giggles* I was impressed when you managed to sneak out without anyone noticing.

MC: *chuckles then stops*

Ortho: They're back.

MC: Yes, and they've brought someone with them.

*The Arcane Hunters entered the room, accompanying the person in front of them.*

Arcane Hunter A: *noticed that Ortho is awake*

Arcane Hunter A: Huh, looks like the robot kid can fix himself.

Arcane Hunter B: S.T.Y.X technology is truly impressive.

Ortho: ...

'Now, now, don’t frighten the poor child. We wouldn’t want to appear rude in front of our esteemed guest, would we? *looking at MC and smiles*

MC: ...

MC: Pardon me, but I don't believe we've met before.

'Indeed, we haven't had the pleasure, for I am merely an admirer, utterly captivated by your performance in the Sing and Dance Competition. Ah, forgive me—I seem to have neglected a proper introduction.

*kneels in front of them, taking MC's hand*

I am Remington Ashford, 23 years old, and still searching for a partner who will truly appreciate me. *kisses the back of their hand, gazing into their eyes*

MC: ...

Ortho: Ew.

Arcane Hunters: This little—

Malleus and Ruggie: *both seething in anger*

Malleus: Shroud, are you familiar with this Ashford?

Idia: *sigh* Yes. He's the boss of the AetherTech Industries.

Ruggie: Sounds bougie, but it doesn't ring a bell.

Idia: Of course, it just opened not too long ago.

Malleus: Then, does he need something from you?

Idia: I don't know. *frowns* But whatever it is, I'll make sure he'll regret hurting Ortho.

[itsrlymine]

All You Have to “Do” is Acknowledge It’s Already Done. Seriously. That's It.

Law of Assumption. Reality Creation. Shifting. Manifesting.

Whatever the fuck you want to call it, you need to know that as the creator and the center of your youniverse, you deadass have it already. Anything. I mean anything. You want a new house? Babe you are reading this from your new kitchen. You want a new car? You literally just left the grocery store and everyone was asking you how much money you spent on it. $250K isn’t the craziest amount to pay for a car so why were they all freaking out?? You want an sp?? Didn’t they just finish giving you that gwak gawk— My point is… Everything is done now. It’s your choice to believe that it isn’t that allows that illusion to appear before you. Reality has to follow your rules because reality is you. 

If you keep asking questions, reality will question you. It’s not hard, it’s a change in mindset. Acknowledging that what you “wish” to experience is no longer a wish but a part of your life. Change the way you speak about your life starting now. 

“Oh but can I get my sp back even though they—“ 

Not unless you say you can boo. Not unless you know they are peaking over your shoulder trying to read what you’re seeing on your screen right now. 

“Oh but I want go to my dream university and I don’t know if I—“ 

Please be so fr. Aren’t you supposed to go to a dorm party later tonight?

You don’t hope and pray your Tumblr account is still active as soon as you leave the app. You have this inner knowing it’s still there and will “show up” next time you want to doom scroll. So why is it different for your “desires” now? How can you desire something you already have? Do you desire the skill to read when you already know how to????

It is easy when you say it is. When you know your words aren’t going into some void to never return. When you know that God is speaking and when God speaks, everybody gets in place and acts accordingly. The words are being reflected back to you the instant you stand firm in what you are now experiencing. 

If you believe/say nothing is working, why are you then upset nothing is working? You said it and you are right.